> Taking Back Canterlot
>  by Coyote de La Mancha
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Episode 1. Prologue: Bowels of the Devil.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, slowly making her way to the surface of her mind. Her memories drifted in and out, blending unevenly with what she could hear of her surroundings. 
How’s the patient…?
I’m Rich Hues... it’s an honor to meet the young lady who handed me the election…
Seeing as how she’s still breathing after being caught in a massive explosion, I’d say pretty good…
No need to be modest… I’m serious... there’s no way I could have beaten Martial Law if it had ever come to a vote, God rest his soul...
Coming through… what happened… shanking… put her over there…
But you made the impossible happen… and for that, I can’t thank you enough…
Has she said anything yet… not yet, but she’s barely regained consciousness…
I mean, if Martial had been the only person killed, attention would definitely have been cast on me…
All vital signs are normal... all things considered...
But after that little fireworks display you pulled at his funeral… it’s become abundantly clear that all these horrible crimes were perpetrated by the Rainbooms…
Be careful, Doctor… You patient’s dangerous…
You know, I have found that as you get older, you realize there are only two kinds of people in this world… chromism, gender, money, none of it matters…
You got anything you wanna say to the judge, you’d better start thinkin’ of it now…
You’re either a winner, or a loser… and now, in order for me to stay a winner, it’s time for me to salt the earth, starting with you…
You’re wasting your time… c’mon, let’s go call the warden, he’ll probably want to get ahold of Armor…
You’re going to die here, little girl… but if it makes you feel any better, I’ll make sure to thank you in my acceptance speech…
As her mind continued to clear, she remembered smiling as his goons surrounded her. They’d thought she was helpless, their guns hadn’t even been out. She remembered thinking, This will be easy. One last clean sweep, and then the war would have been over. The city of Canterlot would have belonged to the Rainbooms. We can rebuild, she remembered thinking. Bury the now-avenged dead, let the people get on with their lives.
Then, she’d seen the silhouette by the harbor. A female form, indistinct in the mist and the darkness. Long hair waving in the wind as the shadow had slumped, shoulders telling a novel’s worth of sorrow and regret.
The figure had held something in her hand. A box, with an antenna.
Hues in front of her, still talking. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to—
She remembered seeing Rich Hues’ eyes widen as they both beard the telltale beep of the bomb’s receiver. She remembered reflexively hurling herself away from the boat in an aura of violet, even as the detonation engulfed her in fire and death.
Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes.
Sorting out what she’d overheard, it was obvious where she was. But even if that hadn’t been enough, the dirty white ceiling tiles and cheap walls, the IV in her arm and the orange jumpsuit she wore – not to mention the smell – were all enough to bring her up to speed.
She was in a prison infirmary. She had obviously been deemed too dangerous to keep in a normal hospital. She’d known gangsters who would have grinned at the thought, taking the assessment as a high compliment.
But then, she’d known a lot of stupid people in her time.
From the other side of a dividing curtain, a girl’s excited voice drawled, “Hey, is it really you?”
Twilight’s brow furrowed in irritation. There was literally no one on the entire planet you could ask that of and not get an affirmative answer. But the voice sounded familiar - for all that she couldn’t place it yet - and too young to be there. So instead of responding immediately, she shifted her gaze to her right, towards the sound. 
That small movement was almost all she could do. Whatever they had her strapped down with kept her from moving almost at all. Apparently, whoever was running things knew who they were dealing with.
Or at least, they thought they did.
The curtain was jerked away to reveal a teenaged girl with bright yellow skin and red hair, surmounted by a deep purple bow. Twilight frowned, then stared. 
“Apple Bloom?” Her voice was almost a croak from disuse.
The girl nodded. “Uh-huh. Listen, my sister told me all about what y’all were doin’ back when, when she was runnin’ with you. But I ain’t th’ only one that knows; half the guards’re takin’ bets to see who gets to you first, them or the convicts.” 
Apple Bloom glanced over her shoulder at the doors for a moment, then back to Twilight. “We gotta get you outta here!”
Twilight stared back at the ceiling. “No,” she said.
“What?”
“I said no,” Twilight repeated. She swallowed against her drying throat, then, “There is no ‘we’ in this equation. ‘We’ aren’t doing shit.”
“But—” 
Twilight shook her head, still looking up. “Apple Bloom, the Rainbooms started out trying to help people. Hell, we started out making music.
“Then the Sirens came back somehow, each one in control of a different gang. I mean, they took over the town almost literally overnight. They set their gangs fighting each other in the streets along with anyone else who opposed them, feeding off the results.”
“I remember the Dazzlings.” 
“Yeah. So, we faced them again. Except this time, it was different,” Twilight went on. “They weren’t just using their music. They’d already gained so much power from the gang war, their voices could kill. And as their gangs kept getting bigger, their magic’s reach kept getting longer. The city kept getting more corrupt, more hopeless. Then the state. And then farther. And the fight just kept getting dirtier, while they got stronger.
“When they blew up the school, we started getting followers. Students who had survived, family members of those who hadn’t. Even some faculty. With their help, we were able to use the social decay to our advantage, get ordinance to match the other gangs. We took over their operations in-town. We took them down, one by one. And we…” 
She took a deep breath. “We killed the Sirens,” she said quietly. “We killed them. Them, and... a lot of other people along the way.”
“But I know all that!” Apple Bloom exclaimed. “I tol’ja, Applejack tol’ me all about what was goin’ on, right up until...” her voice trailed off.
Twilight stared at her. “And you want to be part of that? Are you fucking insane?”
“We’re all part of that now, whether we wanna be or not!” Apple Bloom insisted. “You don’t know what it’s like in Canterlot now. Do you even know how long you’ve been out?”
“Well, obviously longer than I think, if you’re asking me that.”
“You’ve been in a coma for over three years,” the younger girl said. “An’ everythin’s just gone more an’ more downhill. The cops’re just another gang now, an’ they’re not th’ only one. An’ it ain’t just here, it’s all over, but this here’s where the worst of it started…”
Twilight sighed, closing her eyes. She remembered when she and her fellow Rainbooms had discussed options after the school had been destroyed. Sunset had been the loudest voice in favor of armed retaliation, backed by Applejack and Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy had been the loudest against, backed by Rarity and Pinkie. Twilight, the swing vote, had stood with Fluttershy… until days later, walking the streets in broad daylight, when she’d gotten caught in a crossfire between the Sirens’ three gangs. 
She’d been lucky to survive. And when she’d healed up, she’d changed her vote, becoming one of Sunset’s three lieutenants in the Rainbooms gang. They’d taken on everyone in a three-on-one war – four-on-one, if you counted the police – and ultimately, they’d come out on top. At least, those who’d still been alive had.
And… damn it, after all was said and accounted for, she’d been good at the G-life. Never in her life had Twilight felt so powerful, and yet so in-control, as those days. By the time she was running the Rainbooms herself, she’d finally stopped having nightmares about Midnight Sparkle. She’d finally come to peace with her darkness as much as her light.
When it came right down to it, could she quit the Life? Did she even really want to?
She didn’t know. But she could at least hit the pause button while she figured it out. And that meant not dragging AJ’s kid sister into her gangster shit while she did.
“No,” Twilight said again. Her voice was better now, but still raspy. “You don’t know how bad this can get. And I’m sure as hell not showing you.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Apple Bloom demanded. “You do remember my sister, right?”
“Yeah,” Twilight said, squeezing her eyes shut at the memories. “I remember her.”
“Well, what then? You don’t trust me? I mean, I got myself shanked just to get in here to talk to you! Doesn’t that show I’m loyal?”
Twilight’s eyebrows raised slightly as she flickered her gaze to the younger girl. 
“Being an Apple means you’re loyal,” she said. “Being here just means you’re stupid enough to get stabbed.”
“An’ y’all did notice I’m already in prison, right?”
“Not a mark in your favor. Or mine.” Twilight closed her eyes. “The answer is no.”
There was a long pause. Then:
“Twilight,” Apple Bloom’s voice was barely a whisper. “Twilight, the farm’s gone.”
Twilight’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
Apple Bloom’s eyes were full of tears, but her voice was steady and low as she went on, “Razed. Burnt to th’ ground. Applejack had said t’stay outta town, ‘til things got better. An’ we did. But then the cops came by...”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
The girl went on, “Granny tried ta send ‘em packin’ with a shotgun, an’ they shot her fulla holes. Big Mac come a’runnin’ when he heard the shots, an’ they just kept shootin’ him, even after he was down…”
“Alright,” the purple girl said. Her eyes were hard.
“Twilight, I ain’t got nuthin’ left…”
“I said okay,” Twilight repeated, still staring at the ceiling. “You’re right. We’re doing this.” She took a steadying breath, her mind working frantically. “Okay. Apple Bloom. How well do you know the layout of this place?”
“Pretty well,” Apple Bloom said, wiping tears away with a fist. “We’re on an island about five miles off the coast. They got boats on the south side. I can get us there.”
“Then you’re navigator.” Twilight considered, then, “Listen, I know you can shoot, but...”
“My docs got blue laces,” Apple Bloom said, her eyes grim. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me.”
“Well, when we get out of here, you’re changing them to purple,” Twilight said. “I’ve got a brother, too.”
Apple Bloom nodded again. “Fair ‘nuff.”
“Okay, step one,” Twilight said, calculating quickly, “undo my restraints.”
For the first time, Apple Bloom seemed hesitant. “Um, Twilight?”
“What?”
“You ain’t got no restraints.”
Twilight blinked, then sighed. Of course, she thought. Years in a coma. What was I expecting?
“Okay, that’s fine. We can still do this,” she said. “But we’ll need to move fast. When Shining finds out I’m awake, he’ll just make this harder. So you follow my lead. And remember, no unnecessary killing.”
Apple Bloom frowned. “Um, y’know these here’re prison guards, right? They ain’t exactly the good guys.”
Twilight looked sideways at her. “You’re either in the Rainbooms, or you’re out.”
“But—”
“No buts. Some of these people will have families. We’re being civilized about this. And that means getting out quiet, with minimum bloodshed. Understood?”
Apple Bloom looked down. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. With any luck, the alarm won’t even sound until we’re already out of here.”
Just then, the door opened, admitting a grey-skinned man with short black hair and beard. He wasn’t tall, but he was broad in the shoulders, and he wore a white lab coat.
“Lie back down!” the doctor snapped at Apple Bloom. “You can’t be that hurt if you’re talking.” He reached out, jerked the curtain back into place. “Anything else out of you, I’m sending you back to GP as-is. Understood?”
Then, he walked over to where Twilight was. “Well, you seem alert,” he nodded. “Good enough to stand trial, anyway. You just keep quiet, I’ll have this little bitch out of here in a few minutes.”
Twilight calculated the odds that her control was enough, after years of inaction, to render the the doctor unconscious without killing or crippling him. She concluded that they were probably close to zero. The odds of Apple Bloom subduing him while unarmed, with even a relatively superficial abdominal wound, also seemed poor. Apple Bloom had always been a scrapper, but he probably outweighed her by a good hundred pounds.
As the grey man walked to the other side of the curtain, Twilight spoke.
“Doctor,” she said, “please step away from the girl. Then lie down on the floor, and put your hands behind your head with your ankles crossed.”
Twilight could hear Apple Bloom’s jumpsuit being unzipped, hear the girl’s hiss of pain as the doctor examined her wound.
“Oh, shut up, you’re not hurt,” he said. “I’ll stitch you up now. Guards’ll be here in just a minute to escort you back to your cell.”
Inwardly, Twilight shrugged. Oh, well.
First, she withdrew the IV from her arm in a light violet glow, letting it fall to the side of her bed with a gentle plink. Then, she enveloped her will around herself, raising her useless body up in an aura of purple and amethyst. With a thought, she tore the curtain away as the doctor whipped his head around and stared at her in disbelief.
“Step away,” Twilight rasped. She floated above the other two like a starving ghost, limbs dangling, head lolling to one side. Hopefully, the physician would be frightened into compliance. “Hands up, and lie down on the floor. Now.”
Staggering back, the grey man fumbled at his coat, quickly bringing a revolver to bear and firing wild, emptying his weapon at the levitating woman before him. Twilight was able to deflect the worst of it, but two of the bullets tore into her emaciated legs.
Twilight grunted in pain. That was harder than it should have been, she thought. My magic’s gotten rustier than I thought. 
And then, immediately following on that thought’s heels, Wait, since when do they arm physicians? 
Then, she renewed her focus. She drew the pain in, focusing it into more power as she glared at her assailant.
Throughout the prison, an alarm sounded. 
The white-coated man flew over Apple Bloom and slammed into the far wall beside the door, spread eagled and helpless, his gun dropping from his hand. Meanwhile, blood ran freely down both Twilight’s legs, soaking into her socks, dripping to the floor. 
Apple Bloom stared, her thoughts careening crazily to one of the CMC sleepovers, years ago. The movie of the night had been Fantasia. The three of them had spent close to an hour afterwards, talking about the Night on Bald Mountain scene. None of them had slept that night, keeping all the lights on they could until dawn.
Twilight considered her wide eyes briefly. Either her sister hadn’t quite told her everything, or she just hadn’t believed it all.
The doctor was coughing blood, the left half of his body hanging limp and useless, the left side of his face sagging. 	
Over the radio on his belt, a voice could be heard: “Shots fired, repeat, shots fired in the west wing...”
“By the way,” Twilight said through gritted teeth. “That thing I just said, about being civilized?”
Blood began to slowly ooze down one of her nostrils, as she flexed her right hand.
The grey man’s torso ducked down like a hand puppet, his waist still pinned to the wall. Then, his head rammed backwards into the concrete with inhuman force. His head burst on impact with a horrible popping sound, blood and brain splashing the wall and part of the ceiling above him. Then, he simply fell. His face crumpled, mask-like and unrecognizable.
“Forget I said that,” Twilight said.
Apple Bloom paled.
Twilight glanced down at her. “Are you still in? This may be your last chance to walk away. No one will ever think less of you if you do, especially me.”
The teenager’s eyes narrowed in determination as she swallowed, then nodded. “I’m in.”
Twilight nodded. “Good. Get his gun and whatever ammo he has, then get behind me. Be quick.” Her eyes glanced back to the door, where they could both hear the sound of running feet approaching.
While Apple Bloom grabbed the revolver and searched the soaking corpse for ammunition, more voices spoke over the radio. Several voices confirmed that the shots had been fired near or in the infirmity, a total of six shots. That there was currently no more gunfire. Then, the dispatcher began giving orders, putting the prison into lockdown, coordinating armed teams to surround the infirmary doors and wait for backup. In the distance, steel portals could be heard, slowly sliding and locking into place.
Then, a new voice broke into the radio. “Dispatch, this is CRT Leader. We are locked and loaded, and headed to the west wing.”
“That’s an affirmative, CRT,” the dispatcher replied. “All units, stand by to support CRT. CR Team Leader, target area is confirmed as the infirmary. Escapee is Twilight Sparkle, charged with the murder of former mayor Martial Law, as well as with multiple counts of first degree murder and police homicide. Suspect’s file also has a note that she is to always be considered armed and very dangerous, regardless of circumstance.” 
There was a pause, then the dispatcher spoke again, saying, “Team Leader, do you read me?”
“Loud and clear, Dispatch.”
“Kill that crazy bitch.”
Both women could hear the gritted teeth in the reply, “Roger that.”
Meanwhile, Twilight had been extending her will. All around the room, drawers had opened and trays shifted. Dozens of assorted scalpels and other sharp instruments now arrayed themselves unevenly on the floor, pointed towards her approaching enemies, waiting only for her will to thrust them through the air like arrows of steel.
She glanced back at Apple Bloom. Her expression was not concerned, only grim.
“We’re taking back Canterlot,” she said. “Starting right now.”
Then the doors flew open, and the slaughter began.
> Episode 2. Prologue: Enter the Dark Side.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shining Armor blinked and rolled over, focusing his eyes. A long, hard look at the phone on his night stand told him that yes, in fact, it was his phone that had awakened him.
Looking at the number, his frown deepened. He’d missed the call, but only just. He hit redial and held the phone to his ear, his head still resting on the pillow.
“Yes, this is Armor. No, I just called you. What’s...”
He jackknifed up. ”What?!? How long? No, I’m glad you called. Listen,” he started rolling out of bed, “don’t let anyone talk to her, okay? I mean no one. Just keep her in solitary until I can get there--”
Then, he leaped out of bed.
”What the fuck do you mean she’s in the infirmary?!?
Shining put his phone on speaker and threw it on the bed. He dashed around the bedroom, throwing on clothes.
“God damn it, Brass, her file specifically states...!”
“Her file specifically states that she’s a cop killer,” Brass’ voice said. “Everything else aside, you’re lucky I called you at all.”
“Don’t you give me that, you know very goddamn well--” Shining broke off, his eyes widening, as a new sound came over the phone line. “Is that the alarm?”
“Huh, what the...” 
”Is that the fucking alarm?!?”
There was the merest pause from Brass, then: “What the fuck?”
“Okay, Brass, listen to me,” Shining Armor was saying as he struggled into his shoes. “We can still salvage this. Just keep everyone out of there. No contact. Do you read me? No contact! I’ll be there in no time--!”
“Sorry, Armor. I’ve got one person down now. Dispatch is already coordinating teams against the escapee.”
”Then have them stand down!” Shining yelled as he grabbed his phone again. In a moment, the front door slammed closed behind him and he was jerking open the door to his car. “Have them secure the area if you want, but don’t go in, don’t engage! That’s a fucking order, Warden Tacks! You hear me? DO NOT ENGAGE HER!”
Shining could almost hear the other man leaning back as he said, “Yeah, Shining, I couldn’t make any of that out. Must be all the background noise.”
The engine roared to life as Shining Armor said through gritted teeth, “God dammit, Brass, listen to me, don’t do this, don’t you fucking do this, not now...”
“Look, Shining, I’m sorry,” Brass Tacks said. “I really am. But you’re not going to be able to save her this time.”
Then the line went dead.
Shining Armor raced down the streets of Canterlot, siren howling, lights blazing through the night. There was a chopper at the station. There was still a chance, however slim.
His tires screamed as he took the corner of Asimov and Ninety-Second, speeding through a race he knew he couldn’t win even as he dialed the station’s number.
“She’s not the one I’m trying to save.”







The water only stung a little as it flowed over her wounds. A few cuts and nicks here and there. Her abdomen, the wound she’d taken to reach Twilight in the first place. And her thigh still ached, of course, from where she’d been shot.
Apple Bloom sighed again as the hot water continued to run along her body. She arched a little bit as she ran her fingers through her long red hair, feeling a few vertebrae slip back into place as she did. The water ran pink in a few places, little rivulets of diluted blood reminding her – along with the pain – that she’d come out the other side alive.
Then, reluctantly, she shut the water off and opened the curtain, stepping out onto a soft fluffy mat as she grabbed a large towel. She hissed a little as she dabbed her injuries dry, though only the bullet wound was really bad. And even then, she’d been able to dig the dang thing out without too much trouble. She really couldn’t complain.
She glanced at the white, thick towel in her hands, turned pink here and there from her ministrations.
Comfy towels. Soft floor mats. Hot water.
Such luxuries.
Apple Bloom peeked out the open door again, at the figure nestled in the bed closest to the bathroom.
Still breathing.
Apple Bloom sat on the closed toilet and opened one of the Flormart bags she’d brought with them both when they’d checked in. A camper’s first aid kit, some super glue, rubbing alcohol, and a sewing kit. 
She looked dubiously at the sewing kit, then put it aside. She wasn’t adverse if needs be, but she knew she was no Rarity. And right then, needs didn’t seem that bad. So instead, she put the towel in her mouth, pulled her thigh wound open with her fingers, and poured in the alcohol. 
Once she’d finished her muffled screams (half expecting her teeth to meet in the towel’s middle while she did, kicking the bathtub the whole time), she opened the super glue and lined the edges of her thigh wound, holding it closed until it stuck. It wasn’t perfect, and it was still swole up, but it would do until she could hire a doc to fix her up proper. Till then, she could limp a little. It was fine.
The worst being over, she peeked in on Twilight again, and then got to work on her other injuries. Finally, she covered everything with some butterfly bandages to help the glue hold the skin in place, and then Band-Aids to cover the bandages.
Her self-ministrations complete, Apple Bloom started walking out of the bathroom, then stopped and smiled. She turned and picked up another large towel and wrapped it around herself. Then, she exited the bathroom, bare yellow feet padding softly in the thick carpet.
Modesty was another luxury she’d missed.
Twilight’s face had gone from a healthy violet to a pale amethyst, the sunkeness of her eyes and cheeks even darker than when Apple Bloom had first seen her. Her hair was limp and lifeless, and underneath the blankets, her body was positively sticklike, her limbs almost fleshless, her bones sticking out like bare branches.
When Apple Bloom had cleaned out Twilight’s leg wounds, the older girl had moaned and shifted, but she hadn’t woke up. The bullets had gone straight through, so Apple Bloom hadn’t had to dig anything out… but Twilight had lost a lot of blood.
Apple Bloom knew she should see a doctor, but as fugitives that was just about impossible. 
Now, sitting on the bed next to her, Apple Bloom took a box of diaper wipes from the side table. Gently, tenderly, she started cleaning Twilight’s face again. Some of the blood just wasn’t willing to come off, especially around the nostrils. But Apple Bloom was willing to keep trying. Biting her lower lip, she gently wiped Twilight’s forehead and eyes. 
“C’mon, Twilight,” she whispered. “Please be okay.”
Twilight winced, then frowned, taking in a long, slow breath.
“Sunny, what time is it,” she mumbled. “S’too early.”
Apple Blom’s breath caught in her throat. “No, Twilight, it’s me,” she said. “You remember?”
Twilight’s eyes fluttered half-open, tried to focus.
“Apple Bloom?”
Apple Bloom nodded, relief flooding through her. “Uh-huh.”
Twilight glanced around her a little. “We made it.”
“Yup.” Apple Bloom “How you feelin’?”
Twilight Sparkle tried for a moment to move her arms under the weight of the blankets, and found it impossible. Then, she gave a weak smile.
“Well,” she said faintly, “I used to feel… with my hands...”
For a moment, Apple Bloom stared. Then, there were a few barks of half-suppressed mirth, almost like coughs, from each of them. Then, the laughter made its way out, Twilight giggling weakly while Apple Bloom half-laughed, half cried.
Eventually, the moment subsided. Apple Bloom gently moved some of Twilight’s hair out from her face, genuinely smiling for the first time in a long while.
“Seriously, though, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this physically weak,” Twilight said. “It’s like I’ve been hollowed out. I think my body might tremble if it had the energy. But it doesn’t. And my head, Jesus…”
“Want some aspirin?”
“Blood thinner,” Twilight said. “I shouldn’t chance it. Any acetaminophen?”
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Huh-uh. I can getcha some in a little bit, though.”
“You can… wait,” Twilight said, her purple eyes suddenly focused and sharp. “Where are we? How long have I been out?”
“We’re in a Motel 7, an’ you’ve been out for about five or six hours.”
“Five or six hours. Okay, that makes sense. But…”
“But?”
“Look, Apple Bloom… where did we get the money for all this?”
Apple Bloom smiled again, hands clasped in her lap, looking at the ceiling. “Well, y’see…”






By the time they’d reached the prison docks, Twilight’s entire chest, neck, and lower face had been covered in blood. She’d barely gotten on the boat before passing out. Without air cover to worry about, Apple Bloom had just left the boat lights off, and aimed for the city lights across the bay.
Getting to shore had been harder. Even if word hadn’t spread yet, nobody was going to miss two young women in prison jump suits. So, apologizing profusely, Apple Bloom had stripped Twilight out of her jumpsuit… only to discover that, unlike Apple Bloom, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. So, Apple Bloom had left Twilight in her socks, and put her own T-shirt on her. Twilight had lost enough weight that it almost did the trick.
Almost.
For her part, Apple Bloom kept her bra and panties, and her socks and shoes. Then, leaving the boat to idle, she’d taken Twilight and rolled into the water.
Looking back, Apple Bloom thought the scariest part of the whole caper was likely the swim to shore. She knew how to keep someone’s face above water, she could practice a water rescue in a swimming pool just fine… but the bay had waves, sometimes big ones. Several times Apple Bloom had just about panicked, thinking she’d let her unconscious friend drown.
Finally, there was a low place she could climb up, and pull Twilight up after her. The brine had washed all their wounds, but Twilight’s nose was still bleeding, though slower than it had been. Then, Apple Bloom began to walk, one arm around Twilight, carrying her like a drunk friend as best she could.
Of course, it had been impossible to stay completely out of sight. A few cars passed by now and then, even on the minor streets. Eventually, a blue car slowed down and stopped, the driver taking in the sight of them: two young women, scantily clad, one unconscious and bloody.
“Hey,” he said, “You girls need some help?”
Apple Bloom opened her mouth to say, Yeah, we were just mugged, can you help us, but then she saw how he was looking at them. His eyes raked them up and down, taking in their legs, their breasts, the tiny patch of deep purple hair barely visible under the hem of Twilight’s t-shirt.
So instead, she cocked her head and drawled, “Well, I dunno, Sugar, what kinda help you thinkin’ about?”
He smiled. “I dunno, but it could be fun.”
She lowered her head, looked up at him from beneath her red bangs, still smiling. “Oh, Honey, we could so use your help.”
He nodded to Twilight. “What happened to your friend?”
“She didn’t have Daddy’s money,” Apple Bloom pouted. “He can be so mean.” Then she moved her eyes down, back up again. “Think you can help us with that?” 
He unlocked the doors, his smile turning hungrier. “I bet we could help each other.”
She started gently loading Twilight into the back seat. “I bet we could.”
“What about her?”
“Oh, she won’t mind, long as she gets her share.” 
Apple Bloom got in next to him and snuggled close, giving him a good view as the car started rolling again. She could feel the cold, reassuring metal of the 9mm against her back. She’d had to let the other weapons go, sinking them forever into the bay. It had hurt to lose them, but there was no way she could have concealed them all wearing nothing but her underthings.
But a small automatic, that she could manage. 
The street lights glanced off the pale band on the man’s finger. When he’d first stopped, he’d had a gold ring. He started turning the car left, heading towards a small motel.
“Gonna be a hell of a night,” he said.
Apple Bloom smiled as she reached behind her.
“Oh, Sweetie,” she purred, “you have no idea.”







While she had told her story, Apple Bloom had been helping Twilight drink small amounts of Crocaide. Twilight had to admit, even that small amount of food was helping. 
Now, she stared at the younger girl, mouth open in sheer delight. “You didn’t!”
Apple Bloom grinned. “I sure did. His gun was in the glove box, so I had the drop on ‘im. Took ‘is wallet an’ told ‘im he had a choice: he could keep the car, or the ring. He picked the ring.”
“Smart man.”
“Not as smart as if he’d kept it on, but yeah. So, I covered you up in the back seat an’ did some emergency shoppin’, then got us here.” She gestured towards a wall. “I parked a ways away, in case th’ car’s deductible is more’n the cops’ finder’s fee. But probably, we got us a car, along with clothes, supplies, an’ a month’s rent paid in advance.”
Twilight frowned. “A month? Apple Bloom, we can’t stay still a week. How long before they start looking for us?”
Apple Bloom shrugged, rising from the bed. “Well, if they were different departments, I’d say a while. Agencies don’t get friendly with each other the way they used to. But since the cops run the prison, they’re likely out in force right now. We’ll need to wait a few days at least, maybe more.”
Twilight stared. “Days? Apple Bloom, you’ve got to go now.”
Apple Bloom whirled to face her. “What? I can’t leave you now!”
“You have to! I can’t believe I was this short-sighted...”
“Twilight--”
“If they find you—”
“No!”
“Apple Bloom, Listen to me!”
Apple Bloom stared at Twilight, seething, as the older girl went on, “Look. It’s only a matter of time before they ID us both. The motel manager will rat us out in a heartbeat when we hit the news. I’m a target no matter what, but you still have options. And if you’re going to keep them, you’ve got to be gone before the police get here. You’ve got to leave, now!”
“No, I don’t!” Apple Bloom turned, leaned a hand on the wall. “Dammit, Twilight, I’m tellin’ you, it’s okay!”
“We’re wanted felons for mass murder, and one of us is an invalid! How is this okay?!?”
“I worked out a deal with the manager! So we’re fine, okay? We’re fine!”
“How?” Twilight demanded. “What kind of deal did--?”
Then, she stopped.
“Apple Bloom?”
Apple Bloom stood with her back to Twilight, her arms crossed protectively around herself.
Twilight’s voice was soft. “Apple Bloom?” she said again.
But Apple Bloom just shook her head, refusing to look at her. She went into the kitchenette, and in a few moments the sound of running water could be heard, and then the smell of coffee began to fill the room.
Twilight stared at the ceiling.
“God damn it,” she said. 
She closed her eyes in pain.
“God damn it.”







Canterlot Correctional Facility was one of the few island prisons left in the country, only recently brought out of retirement and renovated for modern use. It had never been beautiful, but over a century of neglect, abuse, and water damage had done little to improve the place. A few wings had been added, such as the infirmary wing, planting grey concrete slabs next to dark stone and mortar. 
Normally, the place had a dank, musty smell throughout, with a constant undercurrent of unwashed bodies and backed-up sewage. Water ran in rivulets down the walls when it rained, gathering in black pools on the uneven floors and rendering the lowest levels completely unusable for the flooding. But now, it smelled worse than it ever had, its normal odors mixing with the charnel stench of mutilated corpses, gunpowder, and charred flesh.
Police Commissioner Shining Armor walked through the blood-stained halls, hands in his coat pockets, ignoring the stench of death as best he could. All around him, CSI worked like a swarm of hornets, collecting specimens, tagging locations, setting up lasers and taking photographs. All of them whispering, when they spoke at all, the same question, over and over.
How?
The numerous bullet-riddled corpses throughout the prison corridors and yard were not the mystery. Twilight Sparkle hadn’t broken out alone, and whoever was with her had been a crack shot. Apparently they’d raided the armory right after leaving the infirmary, with Sparkle’s accomplice grabbing pistols, shotguns, tear gas, and even an assault rifle. And she’d been incredibly efficient with all of them. More so than any one person had a right to be.
No, the mysteries were in the other deaths.
How? How did a highly-trained team of prison guards die from being crushed together, between the wall behind them and the bullet-proof shield of their Team Lead? How did their fellows die by the dozen immediately after, various sharp objects tearing completely through their bodies with the force of a bomb, yet with no sign of a propellant? How were the barred gates that separated the blocks, however ancient they might have been, forced open?
How, further away from the infirmary, did two pairs of guards come to turn their guns on one another, the bones in their hands and arms shattering in the process, while so many others were simply shot to death? How did the tower guards fall to their deaths as the escapees emerged from the main prison building? How did the prison choppers suddenly crash into vehicle blockades, granting the fugitives an almost clear shot to the pier?
Of course, none of these questions held any mystery for Shining Armor. He knew the answer perfectly well.
As he’d expected, the worst of the carnage was just in front of the infirmary itself. That was where they had clumped together so eagerly, thinking they’d had their prey cornered. Shining was glad for the Vicks he’d smeared under his nose as he made his way past the gore and into the medical room itself. CSI had already been there, of course. And, no doubt, they would present him with their preliminary findings sometime in the morning.
But as he took in the trail of blood drips on the tile floor, and the empty holster on the near-decapitated corpse, he already knew how the slaughter had started. Turning slightly, he observed the still-open infirmary doors. They hung crookedly on their hinges, having been expertly kicked in by large booted feet.
God damn you to Hell, Warden Brass Tacks, he thought.
Still, he couldn’t quite muster any real anger towards the man. Not when the warden’s corpse was mangled along with about thirty others by the piers; part of a desperate, last-ditch effort to stop forces they didn’t understand. But the last remaining prison chopper had hurled itself down from the sky, smashing itself into their midst. Those who’d survived had been machine-gunned down without mercy.
And once they’d reached the boat, the fugitives had simply vanished into the night.
Shining Armor was jolted out of his reverie by the approach of a young rookie, his normally sky blue countenance looking distinctly green around the gills. The kid had the look of someone who had volunteered to go further in, figuring that since his stomach had just emptied, he had nothing left to lose. 
Yeah, Shining thought ruefully, we’re just gonna knock that ‘new’ right off of you, aren’t we?
But out loud, he said, “What you got?”
“We’ve identified the other escapee, sir,” the young man said. He handed the commissioner a manila folder.
Frowning, Shining Armor started leafing through the file. Towards the end, he stopped and stared. 
Applejack, he realized. He flipped back to the front page, then shuffled through a few more.
This is her sister!
He stared at the file, then at the bloody trail leading out. Of course, he thought. 
Friendship. Honesty.
Loyalty.
Thrusting the papers back into the young man’s hands, he whipped out his phone. A few seconds later, he was speaking.
“Yes, Your honor, I know it’s late... No, this can’t wait until morning... It’s about the Dash hearing, it has to be postponed... I realize that, but these are extreme circumstances... No, ma’am, I’m saying it isn’t safe to hold it at this time... I don’t know how long... Yes, Your Honor, I understand the plaintiff’s rights... Regardless, you need to understand, I cannot guarantee... No, you need to understand, the lives of yourself and everyone else in that courtroom will be in danger... Yes... Yes, of course...” 
He took a deep breath, saying, “Yes, Your Honor, I do. I’d just hoped you would listen to reason.” Then, the connection was broken with a quiet, anticlimactic beep.
Sighing, Shining Armor put his phone away. The gods must love fools, he thought. They certainly made a lot of them.
Then, he looked at the far wall, towards the shore line and the city beyond it. He had lied to himself before, he realized, when he’d said he wasn’t trying to protect his sister. He’d raced through the city streets like a maniac, practically forced his pilot into the air at gunpoint. But despite his best efforts, he’d been too late. 
Again.
But this time, he told himself, it would be different. This time, he knew where Twilight was going to be, probably even before she did. This time, he would talk to her, make her see reason. And if that didn’t work...
He narrowed his eyes. She would listen to him. She had to.
Just hang on, Twily, he thought. This time, I’m going to save you. From the gangs. From the police.
And if needs be, from yourself.
> Episode 3. Rainbooms: Evening News.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Click.
The bottom right of the screen showed a name being written in cursive script: Graceful Poise.
Twilight frowned. She recognized that name. Graceful Poise had been an investigative reporter, years ago. Her exposés had been directly responsible for massive prison and mental hospital reform when Twilight had been a little girl. But the studio set distinctly lacked the trappings of anything resembling journalism. 
Seated on an overstuffed couch, a woman - obviously Graceful herself - addressed the camera.
“Hello, and welcome to the show. Joining me today is a young lady who has done some amazing things for our community and our city. Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Starlight Glimmer.”
The audience applauded as Starlight waved with a tolerating smile.
“Now, Starlight,” Graceful began, “a lot of liberals out there...”
Graceful was interrupted by a mass of boos from the audience, which she good-naturedly waved down.
“...a lot of liberals out there have been saying that corporations like Carousel have been part of the problem. That they’re destroying Equestria with their attitude of, ‘To hell with the community, the bottom line is all that matters.’”
Starlight’s concerned frown was perfectly placed as she replied, “Actually, I’m glad you brought that up. I have some pictures I would like to show your audience, if you don’t mind.”
While the TV screen scrolled across a blasted wreckage, she went on, “Now, what you’re seeing here is the remains of what was once Canterlot High School, just a few short years ago. After its destruction during that terrible upswing in gang violence, it became a home to the destitute, depraved, and predatory. It was from this wreckage that emerged the notorious Rainbooms, including such violent criminals as Sunset Shimmer, Rainbow Dash, and, of course, Twilight Sparkle.
“Now, Alderman Rich Hues--”
“A great man,” Graceful broke in, “Who was taken from us far too soon--”
Starlight’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she spoke over the hostess’ interruption. ”Alderman Hues had a vision for the city of Canterlot, starting with Canterlot County. A vision in which all of Canterlot was pulled up and away from the depravity of drugs and crime, and into a better future. And we at Carousel couldn’t agree more. 
“And that’s why we have spent considerable resources turning this... into this.”
Now the image shifted, showing a massive office building, surrounded by high-rise apartments. They all gleamed in the light, massive monoliths of steel and glass, sterile and perfect. Atop the office building was a sunburst crest, and the word, CAROUSEL.
“Where once there were crack houses, now we have corporate parks,” Starlight smiled contentedly. “Where we once had criminals, now we have police on patrol. This is our vision, inspired not only by Rich Hues, but by everyone who died at Canterlot High as well... especially Principle Celestia, who as we all know heroically defended her students against the criminal element--” 
Click.
“The kids who are buying this hip-hop, they’re from good families but they hear this over and over again... popular culture becomes a cesspool and the music corporations profit off of it...”
Click. 
“…and the ones who know about the programs are the ones who get the money…!”
Click.
Now the television displayed some kind of news program. At least, Twilight guessed it was supposed to be. Two men who obviously knew one another - one probably a guest on the other’s show - arguing about whatever they thought would be sensationalist enough to attract viewers. 
It had all the hallmarks of a comfortable disagreement carried from one subject to another, depending on what was topical. For an instant, Twilight’s hand twitched over the remote as if to change the channel again. But then her eyes focused on the image of Shining Armor in the background.
Below the studio image, a banner read, Gangster Chief of Police. And under it, in smaller letters, Cop or Criminal?
“But he’s a hero!” one of them exclaimed.
Twilight frowned, and turned the volume up slightly.
The younger of the two shook his head. “I’m not saying he’s not. But he was running with the Rainbooms a long time—”
“Do you not understand what ‘undercover cop’ even means? His evidence was instrumental in bringing down the gang once and for all!”
“Sure, sure, but his sister’s their leader. And now she’s escaped, current whereabouts unknown, and we’re supposed to believe that’s just a coincidence? There are a lot of people who are very skeptical of Armor’s credentials, and I for one don’t blame them! Just what are the cops even doing about this?”
“What do you expect them to do? They’re not miracle workers! The city is huge, and they’ve got their hands full just dealing with today’s gang violence--!”
“Gang violence which he once helped encourage--!”
“He was under cover! But what your side will never understand is--!”
“And now things are worse than ever! Bad enough we’ve got three new gangs warring across the city, that same violence is also being committed by our own police force--!”
Leaning forward, the elder of the two demanded, “Are you saying you want Rainbow Dash back on the street?!?”
Twilight blinked.
Rainbow Dash?
Unfortunately, the program chose that moment for a commercial break. By the time the debate resumed, they showed no interest in returning to Twilight’s friend and former lieutenant, instead arguing about the viability of her brother’s future in politics. Twilight absently turned off the TV, lost in her own thoughts.
Apparently, Shining had never been a cop who was on their side, but rather a cop who had been playing them all along. And apparently he had managed to wrangle his work as a police informant into a promotion, not just to sergeant or detective but to police commissioner.
It was hard to believe. Or, if she was being honest with herself, she just didn’t want to believe it. 
But... it made too much sense not to be true. In fact, hadn’t she assumed upon awakening that he would be helping the cops against her...?
She shook the unpleasant thought away. Of far more immediate concern, Rainbow Dash was obviously still alive. Almost certainly incarcerated, the way they were talking, and for a while now. 
But a program like that relied upon topical debates to keep viewers engaged. So why would she be enough of a current event to warrant mention, even in passing? 
There were a variety of possible reasons, and none of them were good.
The door opened softly. A moment later Apple Bloom entered the motel room, struggling under the weight of several large boxes, an array of plastic bags hanging from her wrists.
“Twilight, far be it for me t’criticize your expertise… but, um,” with a grunt, she closed the door with her foot, “are you sure y’need all this? I mean, this one’s a computer already…”
“That’s just the foundation,” Twilight answered. “The real computer’s what I’m going to build from them all.”
“An’ the extra monitors? Th’ back seat’s full.”
“Absolutely necessary.”
The yellow girl nodded, skootching the boxes around. “Fair ‘nuff. Gonna need help with that?”
Twilight sighed, already feeling exhausted. “I shouldn’t use my telekinesis yet, not after straining myself like I did in our break out. I might do permanent damage, if I haven’t already.”
She looked at her friend apologetically. “I’ll need you to keep being my hands for a while. Sorry.”
“Aw, heck, Twilight. It ain’t nuthin’.”
Smiling her gratitude, Twilight contemplated the array of boxes and bags.
“It looks like you were able to get everything on my list,” she observed. “I’ll admit I’m surprised; I thought the cards would have been cancelled by now.”
Apple Bloom shrugged as she sat on the other bed and started unlacing her sneakers. “Well, I basically did, yeah. You were right, tech’s moved on while you’ve been down. But I told ‘em we were buildin’ the ultimate gamin’ rig, an’ they were happy to help. Everythin’ should be cuttin’ edge.
“As for the cards?” She peeled off her socks. “That kinda thing moves pretty slow these days, an’ really, nobody checks anymore anyway.”
Glancing at Twilight, she added, “You still need me to hit the drugstore?”
Feebly, Twilight shook her head. “That will have to wait. We’ll have to use a compounding pharmacy anyway, maybe a few warehouses. Which means breaking and entering. But there’s been a new development.”
“What kind?”
“Probably nothing good, but I’ll need my computer set up to be certain. Help me to the bathroom, and then we’ll get the assembly started.”
> Episode 4. Rainbooms: Killing Strangers.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the following day, nearing 2pm. Apple Bloom drove the new car uneasily. The streets were even worse than she remembered. She could only imagine what it must have looked like to Twilight.
Mercifully, the theft had gone off without a hitch. There had been several other cars that would have been easier to get, but Twilight had insisted it had to be a ‘high-end smart car,’ whatever that meant. So, now Apple Bloom was maneuvering a brand spankin’ new Evade Warsteed with practiced ease through the busy streets, her identity concealed through expert use of body paint and hair dye. Apparently, Twi’s experience as a cosplayer had its perks.
Neither of them mentioned the fire-headed girl who had gotten her into cosplaying, back in high school. Some ghosts were best left undisturbed.
It was just under ten miles to the courthouse, and in broad daylight. But Apple Bloom had already seen several shootings and a gunfight between the cops and the Sons of Sombra. Which meant something like five people dead in the space of an hour. Twice that many wounded. 
And outside of them as got shot, nobody seemed to care.
Ahead, the light turned green. Apple Bloom was able to move around a car’s length before the crash of breaking glass and bending steel from maybe twenty feet ahead overrode everything. Traffic stopped for only a moment. Then the cars started zig-zagging crazily around one another, trying to get past the collision that partially blocked the intersection, sometimes scraping each other as they did.
Apple Bloom half-stood in her vehicle, her upper torso rising out through the driver’s side window, one hand on the roof for support.
“What the hell are you doing?” Twilight’s voice hissed in her ear. “Get down before you attract someone’s attention!”
“Twi, you seein’ this?”
“I see you trying to blow your cover!”
“Ain’t that unusual, what I’m doin’. An’ anyway, eyes ahead.”
Several car lengths ahead of her, it was evident that some unlucky soul had side-swiped a cop car. The driver was on the ground in a fetal position, clutching at his eyes. The cop was kicking him repeatedly in the ribs, mace can still clenched in one hand.
“He’s gonna kill ‘im, Twilight.”
“Apple Bloom, if you get stopped now, or even spotted, the whole plan is ruined!” Apple Bloom could hear the agony in her friend’s voice over the Bluetooth she wore. “This is our only chance to get her out of there!”
In the motel room bed, Twilight lay propped up by multiple pillows, a keyboard in her lap. Various screens surrounded her on chairs and cardboard boxes, showing different scenes that she cycled through with ease. Traffic cameras, news broadcasts, hospital security cameras. On the wall, the TV was tuned to Channel 8 News, showing live coverage from outside the courthouse.
“The hearing starts in three minutes,” Twilight said. “And this is Rainbow Dash. It won’t last long. And I still have to get the rest of the team there!”
Apple Bloom’s voice was crisp and clear over the headset Twilight wore. “I won’t get caught, and it’ll get me there faster.”
Biting her lower lip, Twilight stared at the news channels, the traffic footage, the clock.
“Twilight, I can’t just do nuthin’.”
There was the briefest hesitation, then Twilight nodded, fingers moving rapidly across her keyboard.
“Alright,” she said. “Cameras are off. Do it.”
Apple Bloom leaned on the horn, jerking the wheel and stomping on the accelerator as she did. The Evade swerved into the opposing lane, other vehicles swerving onto the shoulder or even into each other, startled by the sudden move.
“Stay behind the police car,” Twilight warned. “We don’t need you on dash cam.”
“Ain’t my first rodeo, Twi,” Apple Bloom muttered. “I got this.”
The cop car was facing her left, about two-thirds through the intersection. As she rolled up, she could hear the cop shouting as he kicked the man at his feet, “…but, no! You had to go! And fucking hit! My car! You ass-head…!”
Apple Bloom leaned out the window slightly. “Need some help there, sugar?”:
The cop’s head jerked up and he half turned, a snarl already forming on his lips. Then the gun in Apple Bloom’s hand spoke once, and there was a black spot on his forehead, blood oozing from it down his face.
As the cop’s body slumped to its knees, and then over to one side, the beaten man’s family rushed out of the car. A middle-aged woman – probably his wife – grabbed his shoulders while shouting frantic instructions to a pair of teenaged girls to help with his legs, loading him into the passenger seat as quickly as they could.
But by then Apple Bloom was on her way, taking a right and moving onto the bridge, accelerating towards highway speeds.
“All done, Twilight,” she said. “I’m outta range.”
“Cameras on,” Twilight replied. “Let’s hope no one noticed.”
“Had to be done, Twi.”
“No, it didn’t. But it was the right call. I just hope we didn’t make this a whole lot harder.”







In the courthouse security room, Shining Armor paced, surrounded by police technicians manning a dozen different monitors. When the phone in his hand rang he answered immediately.
“Armor.”
“Sir? We just had a camera outage reported at Wells and forty-sixth. “
“Anything called in?”
“No, sir. And the cameras are back on again. But it looks like we have an officer down.”
“Good work. Get an ambulance there ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shining Armor hung up and pulled out a radio. When he spoke, his voice was sharp and clear.
“Captain, get your team ready.”
“We’re ready now.”
“Good. Just make sure you keep out of sight until I give the word. Your targets are on their way.”
“Roger that.”







The courthouse was not an ancient structure. It had been built mostly of concrete and white stone, with a kind of courtyard in front and parking in back, the whole surrounded by a short concrete wall surmounted by a high iron fence.
Channel 8 had its van just inside the gate, some newswoman or other giving the customary blather to the camera while she stood on the courthouse steps. Other news vans were parked nearby, their anchors apparently lacking the connections to get quite so close.
There were police everywhere outside, of course, just as there would have been on any day. But with the appeals hearing of Rainbow Dash making such headlines, the place should have been practically swarming with them. Instead, it was as if it were just another day at court. Above, a chopper made lazy circles through the air, the only acknowledgement of additional concern.
The cops hadn’t quite put the word ‘TRAP’ across the building in big neon letters, but they might as well have.
Sighing, Apple Bloom wiped her gun clean and stowed it under the seat, just in case she could reclaim it later. Then, she took a deep breath, got into character, and opened the door.







Throughout the USE, the law had become a Janus, a two-faced guardian of what was and what would be. Always relied upon, but never to be trusted. A servant to whomever could afford its price and a destroyer or anything and anyone who dared defy its power, or even got in its way. Word had it that it was worse in Canterlot than just about anywhere else. 
But regardless, the courthouse was its ultimate temple.
Slowly, Apple Bloom mounted the marble stairs towards the giant Roman columns of the building’s cleaner face, a defiler in the house of an unholy god. The pillars looked straight out of the Pantheon. The steel doors behind them looked straight out of a bank. Or a prison.
As she entered, the sudden blast of air conditioning made her blink. Most everything inside was white with sky blue accents, marble, stone, and gold. The floors, the walls, the hall dome. The only exceptions were the wooden pieces: trim around the walls and high ceiling, on the railing of the walkway that circled the hall above, on the circular security station that lay in the hall’s center. All made from fine oak, stained and polished to a dark shine.
Even the security checkpoints, with their metal detectors and x-ray conveyors, were new and pristine. Each one was run by a brand new laptop, colored a pleasing blue grey as if to assure all who entered that this was a place of safety and support, of sanctuary from the storm.
The air smelled mildly of dust and old wood, and below that, of pine oil and bleach. But in the building’s other side was its other face: the jail and the processing center. Apple Bloom knew from firsthand experience that the sights and smells there were very different, indeed. 
It wasn’t easy being patient. Old fears she had tried to forget rose again, threatened to strangle her. But Twilight was counting on her. And if she faltered, the law would know she was there... and its priests would not hesitate in her sacrifice.
Slowly, with a deliberate calm, she moved further into their midst.







Outside, the newscast was just wrapping up for a commercial break. Various people were entering and leaving the courthouse: attorneys, people with tickets or tags to pay, even an old woman with a walker, being assisted by a police officer through the heavy steel doors.
“…said by some to be the trial of the century,” the anchorwoman said. “A notorious member of the gang once known as ‘the Rainbooms,’ Rainbow Dash was arrested three years ago during an assassination attempt against then-decorated police officer Shining Armor.
“In the resulting trial, Rainbow Dash was convicted of one count of attempted murder, and a staggering three hundred eighty-seven counts of first degree murder, promptly sending her to death row.”
Gesturing towards a zebra-striped attorney entering behind her, she went on, “Since then, her legal team has been filing appeal after appeal, citing claims of mishandled and fabricated evidence, police perjury, and even challenging the definition of ‘first degree murder’ itself as used during her trial. 
“Today marks Dash’s final appeal before her scheduled execution, only days away. In a few short moments, we’ll be allowed back into the courtroom and we’ll find out once and for all if Rainbow Dash will go home a happy woman… or a dead one.
“And now… this.”
There was a moment’s pause while she simply stood, smiling.
“Aaaand, we’re clear,” the cameraman said.
The newswoman slumped slightly, lowering her mic. “Oh, thank God.”
He grinned, lowering his camera. “More action than you can take, huh?”
“Bite me.”
Rundown shook her head, tapping a cigarette from her pack. Lighting up, she said, “I don’t even know what the fuck I did to get this assignment. Trial of the century my ass.”
Blowing out a plume of smoke, she added, “That bitch is guilty as a cat in a goldfish bowl. Everybody knows it. And three days from now, she’s going to fry until her brain looks like one of your mom’s omelets.”
Nat Sound grinned as he accepted the cigarette. “You missed your calling. Shoulda been a poet.”
While he drew off her cig, she rolled her eyes. “My point is, none of this is news. We should be covering the election fraud. Or police violence. Or, fuck, even just the gangs. ”
Crossing her arms, she turned back to look at the courthouse. “Christ, what I’d give for some fucking action.”







In the security room, Shining Armor continued watching the closed circuit screens over the shoulders of the security staff. 
Suddenly, he jabbed a finger at one of the screens, exclaiming, “There! That’s her!”
The techie nearest him turned to him in puzzlement. “Sir, that’s an old woman with a walker. Surely you don’t mean—”
But Shining was already talking into the radio.
“Target sighted,” he said. “Station five, with the walker. Remember, subject is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Fast and hard, people.”
While the police mobilized and surrounded the alleged senior citizen, he had to shake his head a little in regret.
He’d known there was no way that Twilight was going to be up to breaking out Rainbow Dash in person. But just as obviously, there was no way she wouldn’t try a break-out while Dash was away from maximum security. Which meant relying on her new accomplice, Apple Bloom.
A young woman who, being herself a wanted fugitive, would have to enter incognito. And, being both young and inexperienced in such things outside of a few high school plays, she would have to play a role she was intimately familiar with.
An old woman with green skin and white hair, on a walker. Of course Apple Bloom would try to fool the police in the guise of her grandmother. She would think it was the perfect cover, both clever and ironic. And Twilight would have helped with the makeup, perfecting the disguise.
In a way, he’d almost been hoping Twilight would try something else. The choice was obvious, once you read Apple Bloom’s files. But after three years in a coma, plus the strain of their prison break, he supposed some damage was to be expected.
Shining Armor pushed the thought away with a shudder. Bad enough she’d fallen as much as she had. Loss of intellect was something he wished on no one, especially his little sister.
Then, watching the screen, he frowned.
“SWAT team, stay on alert,” he said into the radio. “Something’s wrong.”







When the officers had grabbed the green woman, all pretense of being aged or infirm had vanished at once. Screaming and cursing, she’d swung at several of them even as she was borne down. Now, there were five officers trying to secure various limbs – and one with an arm around her throat – with two more nearby holding Tasers and a SWAT team running in with shotguns.
After the initial shock had worn away, most of the other civilians had gone about their business – though certainly keeping their distance from the fracas – or simply pulled out cell phones and started recording. But a few had been in mid-process when the melee had started, and were waiting to finish being cleared to enter the courthouse proper.
Among these last was a woman in a tan skirt and blazer, with black-and-white striped skin and grey hair streaked with white.
“Is this going to take a while?” she asked. “I have clients awaiting trial.”
The red-skinned cop who had been clearing her glanced away briefly from the dogpile to consider her: high heels, business suit, briefcase. He shrugged. She’d already been through the detectors, and the case just had pens and folders.
He handed over her briefcase from the conveyor. “Yeah, you’re fine. Just stay out of trouble.”
“Thank you. Will do.”
He watched her as she approached the stairs towards the courtrooms with mild irritation. Stripy bitch. He hated it when they rhymed. Then he turned his attention back to the pile of officers on top of the shrieking fugitive. She could clearly be heard from beneath the struggling bodies, screaming, “Let go of my motherfucking neck you motherfucking mother-fuckers…!”
Climbing the stairs, Apple Bloom said quietly, “Well. That sure as hell worked.”
Twilight’s voice came over the Bluetooth clearly as she replied, “I told you they’d be expecting you to go in as Granny Smith.”
“Sure, but couldn’t I have just worn a wig or somethin’ then? If the cops’d frisked me, the paint job wouldn’t have held up.”
“That’s why you went in as a lawyer. Granted, it was a calculated risk having you impersonate Zecora,” Twilight admitted. “Chromism does tend to show an increase during times of unrest and economic stress. But Shining will also be watching the cameras for you or anyone like you. Zacora was the only person you knew well enough to impersonate, who also had a radically different appearance and wouldn’t be in your files.”
“An’ the gal we paid t’dress up like Granny?”
“There’s no law I know of against impersonating the elderly. Granted, she is resisting arrest. And, um, assaulting officers. But she’ll also have the best attorneys we can get her.”
“Uh-huh. An’ how good is that?”
“Well, they used to be the Rainbooms’ lawyers, so pretty good. Which reminds me, they’re defending Rainbow Dash now, so try to keep them alive.”
“No problem.”
“I’m almost ready. Where are you?”
“Top of the stairs.”
“Can you hold that position safely?
“Uh-huh.” Putting her case down by the stairs, Apple Bloom took a small note pad and a greyish pen out of her jacket pockets and began pantomiming as though she were writing.
On the ground floor of the courthouse, the checkpoint cops continued watching their fellows gang-wrestle the woman beneath them into submission. Most were laughing and joking, and a few were making bets. Meanwhile, the laptop at the checkpoint Apple Bloom had gone through continued to quietly load Twilight’s virus. It would have been almost impossible to slip the tiny USB into the laptop’s port without ‘Granny’ as a distraction. Having her jumped by multiple police at once, screaming blue murder the whole time, had made it almost easy.
“Back door is opening,” Twilight said. “Accessing… annnnnnnd, I’m in. Full access pending, but I’ve got cameras. Okay. Take a left, and then another left.”
Apple Bloom began to jog, leaving the case behind. “Movin’.”
“Be quick. SWAT is mobilizing. Shining’s figured out the decoy.”
Over the connection, Apple Bloom could hear the rapid clicking of Twilight’s keyboard.
“They’re partway up the stairs, but they’re being cautious. Especially about your briefcase. You have maybe sixty seconds. Less, once shots are fired.”
Apple Bloom said nothing. Instead, stylus and note pad still in hand, she put on a puzzled look for the female officer leaning against the wall to the right of the door at the end of the hall. To either side of the cop, the corridor branched into a T-intersection, with occasional passers-by far too distracted by their own concerns to spare Apple Bloom a glance as she approached.
“I was told the hearing would be at one,” she said. “Surely it has not already begun?”
The cop half-turned towards the room, opening her mouth to speak, when Apple Bloom leaped forward. The gangster’s arm locked around the other woman’s neck in a choke hold, turning her the rest of the way around.
The officer’s gun was out of its holster when Apple Bloom pressed the penlike device against the cop’s kidney and depressed the button at its top. The powerful spring within shot a four-inch plastic spike into the other woman’s body.
The officer’s limbs flailed for only a moment. Nearby, someone screamed.
Another officer rounded a nearby corner and froze for the barest of instants, taking in the scene before him. The striped woman with a dead cop’s weapon, the body lying at her feet.
Apple Bloom dropped her new target with a single shot, then spun and dropped her second as another cop ran out of the men’s room down the hall, hurriedly stuffing his shirt into his pants. Bystanders in all directions were crouching in terror or had just flung themselves to the ground. Meanwhile, from the stairs behind and below her, Apple Bloom heard a voice call, “Shots fired! Go, go, go!”
“Ten seconds,” Twilight said. “But I have full control… now.”
Every alarm in the ground floor went off at once as the sprinkler system activated with a deluge of water throughout the halls, reducing visibility to maybe five feet… or, if you were wearing a visor, none at all. Almost immediately, footing both upstairs and downstairs became precarious at best. The main hall quickly turned into a vast, shallow pond beneath a continual torrent while every stairway became a waterfall from the rivers that were forming in the hallways above. 
Simultaneously, every electronic door locked, even as a series of security gates descended from the ceiling, blocking off both sets of stairs from the entry hall and dividing the building into smaller sections along the corridors. The SWAT team found themselves sealed between the stairs and another gate, barring them from the courtrooms. 
And finally, police communication became impossible, every radio and earpiece suddenly being jammed. Officers and civilians alike had to scream to be heard by those nearby. Panic and pandemonium began to take hold throughout the building.
And through it all, Shining Armor could only watch with growing frustration as, one by one, every screen in the security room turned purple, and began drawing a golden horseshoe flying upwards, trailing a rainbow like a comet’s tail.
The Rainbooms’ gang tag.
Back on the second floor, Apple Bloom could hear the grin in Twilight’s voice as she added, “And now all of their systems… are belong to me.”
Apple Bloom grinned, as well. “For great justice,” she said. Then she focused back on the matter at hand. She gave the cop on the other side enough time to approach, and then she kicked down the courtroom door.
> Episode 5. Rainbooms: Big Bad Wolf.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot City Municipal Courtroom 86 was a simple and relatively small room. It was decorated in sensible browns with a blue carpet, and reliable, soft furniture provided a friendly environment.
Judge Balance Pan considered herself a reasonable person. Hard, but fair, and certainly willing to compromise once it was earned. She had been well aware that there would be a media circus outside her court that day, and she’d been ready for the police commissioner to overreact to the recent prison break with overreaching additions to the building’s security… especially after his absurd phone call at no o’clock in the damn morning.
What she hadn’t been ready for was for the defendant to be wheeled into her courtroom on a mechanized two-wheeler like Hannibal For God’s Sake Lector, secured with steel straps keyed to a voice lock, flanked by two shotgun-toting SWAT officers and a pair of almost identical attorneys in pinstriped suits.
She glanced at the court reporter, then raised an eyebrow at the small group of circus turns invading her court. Mercifully, there were no civilian spectators. Once the usual court preliminaries were out of the way, defense started in immediately.
“Your Honor…”
She regarded the speaker – a yellow man with a red handlebar mustache – with the exact degree of disapproval due to anyone foolish enough to rush things in her court.
“I take it you are counsel for the defence?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he nodded, straightening his tie. “We both are. Flim and Flam, attorneys at law.”
“I see. And I take it you already have an objection?”
“We do, Your Honor,” his brother answered, also stepping forward. “Defense objects to this Hollywood armed camp attitude towards our client. This is blatant overkill, and obviously intended to intimidate our client and sway Your Honor against her appeal by portraying her as some kind of B-movie monster.”
“Your client, who is innocent, I take it?” the judge asked in the same voice.
“She’s a lamb, your honor,” said the mustached one.
“Of course she is.” Having satisfied herself with the exact grade of slime the pair oozed, she turned back to the district attorney.
“All other considerations aside, where it comes to the restraints I am inclined to agree,” she said. “Do you believe you can offer any justification for this rigmarole?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I believe I can,” the purple man replied, handing her a thick folder. Frowning, the judge accepted the folder. The SWAT escort remained monolithic, unmoving in their armor, as the Flim Flam Brothers exchanged a worried glance. 
Meanwhile, the Judge leafed through the folder, her frown continuing to deepen as her hands slowed their motions, her reading becoming more careful. Finally, she looked up again, her stony countenance stained with incredulity.
“Three hundred. And eighty-seven. Murders,” she said. “All of them murder in the first degree.”
“With respect, Your Honor, Miss Dash’s charges are not relevant to our objections to her inhumane treatment,” said Flim.
“Especially since we can demonstrate numerous improprieties regarding not only the court proceedings but the investigation leading to it,” Flam added hastily.
From within her restraints, Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Besides, I figure with the statute of limitations, it should really be closer to two-fifty.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, the gavel came down, sharp and loud.
“There’s no statute of limitations for murder!” the judge shouted.
“Well, why the fuck not?”
While all three attorneys stared in impotent horror, the judge’s eyes narrowed in barely contained anger. 
“Watch yourself, Miss Dash,” she growled.
“Or what?” the blue woman demanded. “Three hundred counts of first degree murder? I mean, come on. Even an idiot can tell I’m being railroaded! I’m looking at the chair and you’re gonna what, hold me in contempt?”
Again, the gavel came down.
“I am inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt during these proceedings,” the judge seethed, “but I advise you not to try my patience!”
“Yeah, I know! If you don’t like me, you’ll just let me die!” Rainbow Dash yelled. “Thanks for the warning! Congratulations, you’re the most honest crooked asshole here! What do you want, a fucking cookie? Fuck off!”
Rising to a half-standing position, Judge Pan heard herself shouting, “I’m genuinely curious if you can maintain your rebel attitude while two thousand volts are running through your body!”
Rainbow Dash, straining against her restraints, screamed, “And I’m genuinely curious if you can keep being a douchebag when I bury my foot up your FUCKING ASS!”
Both brothers cried in unison, “My client would like that stricken from the record!”
Ignoring the lawyers, judge and prisoner both opened their mouths to shout over each other when gunfire erupted in the hallway. Immediately, both SWAT officers aimed their shotguns at Rainbow Dash’s head. While she blew her bangs away from her eyes, the bailiff crept towards the door in a crouch, gun drawn.
Suddenly, the door burst inward, flying off its hinges and into the face of the bailiff. Even as the zebra-striped girl rolled into the courtroom the guards were firing, gouging massive holes into the spectator pews she had hidden behind.
“What in the hell--?” the judge began, even as the crouching girl screamed the phrase from her earbud:
“Strawberry albatross!” 
The tinnitus caused from firing their weapons caused a slight delay in the SWAT officers’ ability to hear the telltale hiss of Rainbow Dash’s magnetic restraints deactivating. Later, they would blame that for their failure to prevent her escape. It would look good in their report, a combination of accountability and diligence to duty.
But in reality, they had lost any possible control of their prisoner the moment Apple Bloom had spoken.
The instant that its programmed code phrase had registered in the small computer near the base of Rainbow’s back, the flow of electricity in her restraint system had ceased. Now, the blue woman’s body blurred in a rainbow of color as she wriggled out of the loosening bonds at super speed, the act of forcing the magnetic straps back generating the hissing sound the guards were finally hearing.
From Rainbow Dash blurring into motion to her guards’ responding to her took almost three seconds. Three long, slow seconds. It might as well have been days.
It had been years since Rainbow Dash had used her magic. Moving faster always made time go slower, after all. At least, that’s how it seemed to her. And once she’d established that she could not escape her seven foot cell by using her powers, more time was the last thing she’d wanted.
But now, watching her captors slowly begin to turn towards her, seeing their faces slowly shift as they realized what had happened, it was just like old times again.
God, but that felt good!
Once out of her bonds, she stood almost still, vibrating in a rainbow blur as she took in the scene. Yeah, that was definitely Apple Bloom under all that body paint. Holy crap. And while she couldn’t tell for sure, it looked like there was movement in the hall, too. Figures moving in the… fog? No. No, that was the sprinkler system. And she could hear the alarms slowly grinding away somewhere downstairs, but nothing on this floor, just like the sprinklers hadn’t activated in this one room.
She grinned. Twilight. It had to be Twilight. Twilight had finally woke up, and teamed up with Apple Bloom. And now, the two of them had broken her out.
Rainbooms, back in action at last.
Awwwww, yeah.
But, first things first. 
Refocusing on her two guards, she saw they were about halfway turned, and so might start firing any second. That was a problem. Even when she’d been in practice, dodging bullets had always been a risky business. It was always better to dodge the shooter than the bullets they’d send after you.
And, of course, they weren’t necessarily the bad guys. If they’d been prison guards, there would have been no question. Three years in solitary had taught Rainbow Dash that there was no life form lower than a prison screw. But these were just cops. Maybe dirty, maybe not.
Inwardly, she sighed. 
Dammit.
Then, she started to really move again.
Stepping forward, she shoved both shotguns upwards, letting their next discharge blast into the ceiling. Then, she jerked their lead hands off the pumps and smacked their face plates with their own weapons.
Mercifully, they were both stunned enough that their grips relaxed, and she removed their fingers from the triggers and took the guns for herself. Uncoiling a tensed finger and pulling it out from a trigger guard was a delicate business at high speed, and a mistake could tear something off. Relaxed digits were much easier.
Then, leveling both shotguns at their previous owners, she let time flow at its normal rate again.
They stared at her through their cracked visors. Then, each other. Then back to her again.
Behind her, one of the Flim Flam brothers poked his head partway up from behind a heavy table with a quick, “Um, anybody hit and need a lawyer?” before the other brother grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back behind cover.
“Yeah, that’s right,” she smiled, “I’m back. And if I were you guys… I’d run.”
They ran.
Mindful of the open door, Rainbow Dash zipped to where Apple Bloom was, helping her to her feet and handing her one of the captured weapons. 
“So, you just had to knock it right off its hinges,” she grinned.
Apple Bloom shrugged. “I was expectin’ a heavier door.” 
“Uh-huh. You and your sister. Sorry,” she added with a wince.
“S’okay.”
Rainbow Dash nodded, then turned to the bench. “Hey, judge, you want to get outta here? It sounds like they’re getting past the barriers. This place is gonna start heating up pretty soon—”
“No, don’t,” Apple Bloom interrupted.
Rainbow Dash turned to her with a frown. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t send her out there,” Apple Bloom said urgently. “It ain’t like when you got locked up. Things’ve gotten worse.”
The other woman stared. “How worse?”
As if in answer, a smoking, fist-sized object shot into the room. In a multicolored flash, Rainbow Dash scooped it up and hurled it back into the hall. Less than a second later, a burst of light and sound filled the hall, even as the doorway filled with indiscriminate gunfire. The Flim Flam brothers and the other attorney quickly found themselves huddled behind the judge’s bench, away from the door’s area of vulnerability. 
Then, a moment later, the gunfire stopped.
“Oh,” Rainbow Dash said quietly. “That worse.”
Zipping to a position opposite the door from Apple Bloom, Rainbow carefully pulled the unconscious bailiff out from under the door and away from the doorway. 
“Hey, judge?” she asked. “You don’t have a gun you’re gonna try to shoot us with or anything, do you?”
“I am unarmed, Miss Dash.”
“Awesome.” Rainbow relieved the court officer of his weapons and deposited him behind the bench with the judge. “You guys stay here and don’t get shot, okay?”
“I give you every assurance that has always been our intention.”
“Perfect.”
Rainbow Dash walked back towards the open doorway, regarding the young lady across from it. Her voice was almost nonchalant as the two of them took up sitting positions to either side of the courtroom’s door, backs to the wall. 
“So, Twilight’s awake.”
“Uh-huh.”
The blue woman nodded. “’Bout fuckin’ time. So, how’re we getting out of here?”
Apple Bloom looked uncertainly at the open doorway between them, and the sounds of repositioning armored personnel emerging from beyond it.
“Um, she’s workin’ on that?”
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes as she hefted one of the captured shotguns. “Of course she is.”
Another volley of gunfire interrupted them, and when it paused Rainbow Dash was kneeling in the doorway in a multicolored burst, firing away. Then, in a burst of light, she was in cover again, waiting out the next hail of bullets.
When it finally stopped, Apple Bloom yelled, “Twilight said t’keep the bloodshed down!”
“They’re shooting at us!”
Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah, an’ I hear ya! But there’s folks on this floor who ain’t got nuthin’ to do with this. An’ you seen how the cops ain’t gonna be careful! We keep firin’ back an’ forth, somebody that ain’t in this may panic an’ do somethin’ stupid…”
Rainbow Dash sighed, running a hand through her polychrome hair as she lowered her weapon. 
“Yeah, okay, point taken. But these fuckers better not get too close.”
Apple Bloom hefted her own shotgun, looking grim. 
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m right there with ya.”
> Episode 6. Rainbooms: Coma White.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles away, Twilight continued typing. Location B’s firewalls hadn’t been a problem, but isolating the vending machine had taken longer than she’d anticipated. She’d managed it in time, of course… but now it looked like someone was aware of her efforts, and was trying to access her system.
She gave the small window showing the other hacker’s progress an exhausted frown, and sent them a few viruses to keep them busy. She didn’t have time for this. She couldn’t expect the girls to hold out forever. And besides, getting their backup to them had a very narrow window, and it was dangerously close to closing.
The staff schedule hadn’t changed, at least. She double-checked the phone number and the personnel data she had. Hallway security showed the subject heading down the hallway, more or less on schedule. 
Biting her lower lip, Twilight pulled up the camera in residential room one-zero-one. Everything depended on what happened next.







The Saint Mary of Bethlehem Mental Hospital of Canterlot had never been a well-maintained facility. Funds had always been scant, and corners had always been cut. But in recent years, both the funding and the interest in upkeep had gone from minimalistic to practically nonexistent.
The front lobby was presentable enough, and the light fixtures all worked. Yes, the carpet’s mottled grey pattern seemed a bit darker along those paths of greatest traffic, but that was easily ignored. The Plexiglas windows were clean enough, and the staff were generally friendly to what few visitors there were.
The office area was behind the receptionist’s desk, and also showed the same kind of ‘we’re underfunded but we’re trying’ atmosphere. To the right of the main entrance was the door to an exercise area, the elevators, and a pair of secure doors.
One door led to the kitchens, where the war against various vermin was not so much victorious as well-hidden from the public eye.
The other door led to the residence halls. And it was there that the true face of the hospital could be seen.
As soon as the doors opened, one was hit with the clashing scents of chemical deodorizers and human waste. The carpet was distinctly darker, adding its own musty aroma to the blend of scents wafting throughout the halls.
The walls had lightly padded railings along them at about waist-level, for those who had difficulty walking (many of the patients were senior citizens). Above them, the yellowish-brown walls took a steadily lighter tone until finally blending with the cream-colored ceiling.
Nurse stations were at every floor, unpopulated only during med pass, each a quiet refuge of conversation where the nerve-jarring din of screams and call alarms could be briefly ignored. There were perhaps four to six nurses to a floor most days; one or two to a floor most nights. Doctors made their rounds and returned to their offices, while social workers struggled with anywhere from fifty to a hundred cases each. In the top floor, a computerized dispenser had all but eliminated med pass errors, as well as medications being stolen for resale or personal use.
All the room doors locked automatically, accessible only by key card. And in each room, one or two patients (one never called them inmates) could be found. Alone with their dreams or nightmares, perhaps, or continuing the endless struggle of the lost. Some had not even that, sedated to a point of manageability by staff who were either too tired or too jaded to spend the energy looking for other solutions. 
It was easy for problems to fall between the cracks in such a place. And if that problem was a person, then it was the perfect place to make them disappear.







“Two syringes? God damn,” muttered the intern, a tan fellow with deep blue hair.
The nurse beside him, an elderly amber-skinned woman, just shook her head. “After every meal’s clean-up, mornin’, noon, an’ night. Ain’t nothin’ to be done, neither. Poor thing.”
She put the needle into the young woman’s IV and slowly pressed the plunger as she spoke.
“She was one a’them gangsters, if you can believe that. Such a sweet face, too. But I guess she’s got a history you wouldn’t believe.”
“Really.”
“Uh-huh. Fires, explosions, you name it. Blew up whole buildin’s, more’n once I guess. But then when they finally caught her, they said she was unfit to stand trial.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Uh-huh.”
She considered the nonresponsive girl in the wheelchair before her, the pink hair kept to a buzz cut for convenience, the half-closed blue eyes.
“Too many drugs, I guess,” she said. “Fell in with the wrong crowd, Lord knows what. Ended up here, ‘til she’s deemed fit.”
Then a sigh, adding, “Such a shame. An’ you jus’ know she was somebody’s baby once.”
She tsked as she disposed of the used syringe and held her hand out for the other.
“Sure,” the intern nodded. “But then, shouldn’t we be giving her antipsychotics or something?”
She frowned. “The hell you think these are, candy bars?”
He examined the manufacturer-printed package he still held. “Adderall.”
She stared at him, then at the empty syringe in the waste basket.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, my sweet baby Jesus.”
In the wheelchair, the patient’s eye twitched.
Motioning for the intern to head out the door, she said in as steady a voice as she could, “Honey, now I need you to try to stay calm…”
“Iyamcalm,” her patient said, dreamily.
Then, as her eyes slowly focused on the elderly woman before her, she snarled through gritted teeth, “GOD, I’m calm!”
The nurse swallowed, taking a step back, motioning more frantically at the intern, who simply stood, staring.
“Well, uh, I need you to jus’ stay in your chair, okay?” she said. “The doctor’s gonna be here in just a minute. You jus’… jus’ stay calm, okay?”
At that moment, the nurse’s phone began to buzz in her pocket.
The patient cocked her head to one side, her demeanor suddenly dreamlike again. “You gonna get that?”
“Uh, well…”
The blue eyes narrowed. “Answer. The fucking. Phone.”
Slowly, carefully, the nurse fished the phone from her pocket. She pressed a screen, then held it to her ear, saying, “Uh, whoever this is, can I call you back?”
Then, she stared.
Holding out the phone as though it was going to bite her, she said, “It’s for you.”
With effort, the young woman pushed herself out of her wheelchair. She clenched her fists with a series of audible cracks and pops, then reached out and took the phone, swaying slightly as she did.
After a moment, Pinkie Pie grinned, still staring at the nurse. “Hiya, Twilight!” Then, she nodded. “Sure, no problem.”
Tapping another part of the screen, she put the phone in the pocket of her scrubs top.
“Ma’am,” a new voice spoke over the phone’s speaker, “Thank you for your cooperation. I know this is unusual, but I need you to please hand Miss Pie the remaining syringe and leave the room.”
As though awakened from a trace, the orderly finally bolted from the room.
“I… I can’t do that,” the nurse managed.
“Ma’am, my name is Twilight Sparkle. Do you recognize that name?”
The nurse paled. 
“Yes,” she whispered.
“That’s good, because I know your name, as well,” the voice said. “Your name is Echinacea Blossom. You and your husband live at 1963 CS Lewis Boulevard. You’ve lived there for seven years.”
Echinacea Blossom said nothing, only stared at the phone in horror.
“Please give Miss Pie the remaining syringe. Now.”
Nurse Blossom picked up the still-wrapped syringe from where the orderly had dropped it, handing it to her patient with trembling hands.
“Thank you. Now, please leave the room.”
With almost no hesitation, the old woman ran. As the door closed behind her, the electronic lock clicked into place.
“Okay, Pinkie? I need you to inject the other syringe into your IV.”
Pinkie Pie shook her head. “Hmm-mm.”
“Pinkie, you’re going to need that, to finish countering the effects of the antipsychotics they’ve been giving you.”
Pinkie Pie shook her shaven head, wildly, her voice becoming slurred. “Nnno… no more needlzz.”
As Pinkie Pie slumped dizzily against the wall, Twilight’s voice became more urgent.
“Pinkie, please! Security is on its way, and I can’t delay the police finding out about this for long. I understand your not wanting to, but—!”
Pressing her forehead against the wall, Pinkie Pie pulled the IV out of her arm and let it drop.
“Pinkie?”
“Wooooo…”
“Pinkie!”
Slowly, her cheek pressed against it, the pink girl began to slide down the wall.
“Pinkie!”
From the hallway, shouting could be heard. Fists began pounding on the locked metal door.
“PINKIE!”
> Episode 7. Rainbooms: Saints.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The AI Twilight had controlling the car was sophisticated, and its task was relatively simple on the face of it. Go from point A to point B and back, along a predesignated route, without hitting anything. But there were traffic lights to be considered, not to mention pedestrians and other drivers. So, even with it drawing data from traffic cameras, it still required supervision.
Glancing at the time and the car’s position, Twilight hesitated, then called up a sound program and clicked PLAY. Opening another window, she accessed police communications, allowing the recording to broadcast along the helicopter’s radio frequency.
Security cams showed Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash still holding their own, though the halls were filling with cops. Cell towers within range of both the hospital and courthouse were still down, though technicians were already starting counter-measures. Landlines and police radio were still under control.
Meanwhile, the hacker had neutralized the viruses in record time. Whoever they were, they were good. Really good. 
Police? FBI?
Twilight frowned again. 
Maybe.
Under normal circumstances, she’d have handled them easily. Maybe let them keep their computer, maybe not, depending on who they were. But gods, she’d never been so tired…
She shook herself, slapped herself a few times. She had to stay sharp. The energy drinks weren’t doing anything anymore. Twilight couldn’t remember ever feeling so drained. When she’d first awakened after the escape, she’d only felt hollow… now, she felt like her life was being sucked out a little bit more every time she so much as moved her hands.
The hacker should never have been able to get this close—
Her eyes snapped open. Oh, God! Was she sleeping? Had she just let everyone down again, one last time?
Oh, God, she thought frantically. Oh, God, please, no…!
With difficulty, she refocused on the screens surrounding her. Apparently, she had dropped off, but only for a few seconds. The automated defenses were still keeping the other hacker more or less at bay. But a message was displayed now, sent to Twilight along a courthouse server the hacker had managed to access.
PLEASE. LET ME IN. I CAN HELP YOU.
Twilight stared, what remained of her adrenaline reserves temporarily dispelling her fatigue. 
After a moment’s thought, she typed in, WHO ARE YOU?
The hacker replied with a single name.
Twilight stared. It could be a trick. It had to be. 
TWILIGHT?
But if it wasn’t, this was the one person who could actually help them, the way they needed the most.
TWILIGHT??
Twilight bit her lower lip, blinked back her tears. Even if it wasn’t a trick…!
TWILIGHT, PLEASE!
The prompt still hovered before Twilight: Allow Access (Y/N)? Her hands were shaking from sheer exhaustion, it was getting hard to see again. Twilight wasn’t sure she could keep the intruder out for much longer, anyway. Not with everything else she was trying to do.
Please, she thought. Please, don’t let this be another mistake.
Trembling, her hand guided the mouse to Y, and with a single click she let the intruder in.







From the very beginning, the network had set up everything to interrupt the anchorpeople on a moment’s notice with her feed, ready to scoop every other channel on the so-called ‘Trial of the Century.’ But it had been pretty clear that nothing was going to happen.
Now, Rundown looked around herself at the people milling around, the police chopper suddenly veering away from the courthouse to go God knew where. There had been a moment of something to actually report when the building alarms had gone off, and people poured out from the courthouse in a mix of confusion, panic, and indignation... all of them soaked to the bone. 
Then, even as civilians were flooding out, previously hidden cops had swarmed around the courthouse. They’d forced their way through the crowds and into the building, shotguns at the ready, along with what she was pretty sure were at least a couple of assault rifles. But by the time she’d finished even describing the scene and made her own way past the crowd of people, the police were almost all inside.
She’d considered following them in, but they’d left a pair of SWAT officers at the courthouse doors. In full armor. With weapons out.
So, for several minutes, she had continued her narration as gunfire could be heard from within, even over the various alarms going off. Speculating why the city had found it necessary to send in a small army to deal with whatever was inside. Speculating why they’d apparently been expecting to need to.
Once, she’d started approaching the cops playing sentry at the doors. But when they’d stepped towards her in unbridled, silent hostility, her boss had cut in and told her to back off.
Reluctantly, she’d done just that.
And then, the network had cut back to the news desks, giving her instructions to let them know when there were further developments, and they would get her live again.
God dammit. God dammit.
Whatever was going on in there, she was shut out. City hall would put out a statement about a fire or something, and everything would go back to…
She paused in mid-seethe. Someone was speaking to her through her earpiece. Someone she didn’t recognize.
Frowning, Rundown pressed a finger against her earpiece.
“What?” she snapped. “Who is this? No, you listen! How did you…? What?”
Then, staring at her cameraman, “Nat! Go to live feed! Go to live feed right now!”
He paused, staring at his camera’s screen as he chased her down the wide stone steps. “What the hell?”
“Go to live feed!”
With a nod, he burst into action, even as she positioned herself stage center before the stone building. 
“Live feed is up!” he announced as he positioned himself as well. “Okay, streaming their video with your voice and an overlay. Station is picking it up, aaaaand… go!”
Spinning to face the camera, the courthouse and its armed guard positioned behind her, the reporter immediately began speaking with professional intensity.
“This is Rundown reporting live from Canterlot City courthouse,” she said, “where we have gained access to a live feed of security from inside the building! What you are seeing is actual, live footage of Canterlot Police using indiscriminate deadly force, firing blindly into a courtroom without regard to the civilian lives within. Lives which we are told include a city justice and at least two attorneys…”







“This is your plan?” Rainbow Dash shouted over the din. 
Even as she yelled, machinegun fire continued to tear through the portal between them, bullets slowly chewing through the concrete walls to either side. 
“Hole up in a courtroom while they take keep spraying at us, and we’re supposed to keep deaths to a minimum?” she raged. “Great plan, you guys! Awesome plan! And where’s Twilight, on a fucking break? We should be riding into the fucking sunset by now!”
“She said she had t’finish gettin’ our evac here!” Apple Bloom shouted back. “Somethin’ about another rescue, but they’ll be here any time!”
“Well, it’s ‘any time’ now, so where the fuck are they?!?”
And then, without warning, the world simply exploded.







No, Rainbow Dash realized, not the world. She could tell it hadn’t been the world. After all, she was lying on top of things. With other things, in turn, on top of her. You need a world for that. Something about gravity? Yeah. That was a gravity thing. She was pretty sure about that.
Feeling more secure about her deductions by the second, she painfully pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around, broken plaster falling from her torso as she did. It was just the outer wall that had exploded. In an amazingly controlled burst of force, in fact, crumbling the stone far more than blasting it inward. And even with her eyes unfocused as they were, Rainbow knew that silhouette, those arms splayed outward in celebration. Just as, even with the ringing in her ears, she could recognize her friend and rescuer’s voice:
“HEEEEEEEERE’S PINKIE!”
With a relieved grin, she fell back into a prone position.
“Well, hiyo goddamn silver,” she said.
Smiling, Pinkie Pie extended both arms and pulled Rainbow and Apple Bloom to their feet, ignoring the confused groans of the others still sheltered by the judge’s bench.
“What about the cops?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Oh, the other charge just dropped the roof on them,” Pinkie chided with a wave of dismissal, staggering slightly as she did. “They’ll be fine, silly. They’re wearing armor! Twilight distracted the helicopter, and... and did you know Adderall tastes purple?”
Apple Bloom gave her a look of concern. “What? Hey, are you…?“
“No civvies ‘n th’ hall, Twilight checked.” Pinkie interrupted, her words becoming slightly slurred. “An’ all th’ cops outside came in t’shoot at you guys, so if we leave right now, we even gedda, head start!”
“Pinkie,“ Rainbow Dash tried, “slow down. What’s…?”
“C’mon!” Pinkie chirped, suddenly brimming with energy again. “We get to rappel down to the getaway car and Twilight’s going to manage the lights and stuff, and who doesn’t love to rappel?”
“Well…” Apple Bloom started. But Pinkie had already leaped headlong out the massive hole she’d blown in the wall, her voice fading downward.
“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee…!”
The other two women exchanged a glance, and then shrugged.
“Aw, what the hell,” Apple Bloom said.







Shining Armor had the monitor room to himself, having sent even the security personnel to back up the SWAT teams sent in. When the double-blast had rocked the courthouse, he’d reached out to steady himself, frowning. What was that, explosives? Then, his eyes had widened with realization.
Pinkie Pie.
He hadn’t heard anything about her escape, of course. But with Twily involved that didn’t mean much. Damn it! He should have sent a unit to watch her, or even had her moved to a more secure location…
“Hey, Shining?” Twilight’s unsteady voice cut in, “Not trying to tell you how to do your job, but… do you really need that many monitors for one security room?”
Despite himself, Shining Armor smiled a little as he looked around the empty room, and then at the lone security camera above the door.
“Your tax money at work,” he said. “One building, a hundred rooms… sixteen security monitoring stations, each with its own computer.”
“And one host for the entire building,” she added, the sound of typing plainly heard in the background. “You might want to change that. Also, ‘Lycurgus2000’ isn’t really a secure password.”
“I’ll send a memo,” he said. Then, with a sigh, “You sound like hell, Twily.”
“Yeah, well, keeping your friends from being killed is pretty tiring. So is staying alive while doctors and prison guards are trying to murder you. But I manage.”
He stared at the camera in disbelief. “Is that what you think you were doing here? Saving lives?”
There was the slightest pause. For a moment, he thought he’d reached her.
“I know I was,” Twilight snapped. “Rainbow Dash would have been killed if I hadn’t gotten her out. And what they were doing to Pinkie was a living hell!”
“They had their day at court! They both--!”
“Oh, cut the crap, big bro!” Twilight interrupted. “We saved people! We saved Canterlot! We even saved you!”
“Dammit, Twily, that’s not how the real world works!” Shining snapped back. “If you want to help people, be a firefighter or a cop, or join the service! Don’t--!”
“Shut up, Shining!” she spat. “You don’t get to talk to me about ‘the real world’ like I’m still a child, or like I’ve lived my entire life in some VR simulation while you had the only keys to reality!
“You want to know why we’re wanted felons? It’s because magical monsters from another world turned the city into a war zone and were taking over the planet, and we stopped them! Not the cops, not the army, us! We were outnumbered, outclassed, and overwhelmed by their magic. Magic that had become more powerful than ours. And we fought anyway, with everything we had!
“And after the school was blown up and our friends were killed and we started using the only tools we had left, your precious cops started trying to kill us! Not the Sirens, us! And do you know why?”
“Because you broke the law! Twilight, you killed people!”
She sighed again then, a tired, almost dried-out sound.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, we did. Given the choice between killing and dying, we learned how to kill. And now, we’ve killed again. That’s not something I’m proud of. None of us are.
“But don’t fool yourself, Shining. That’s not why we’re targets now. We’re targets because throughout history, the purpose of a police force has always been to enforce normalcy. No matter what their professed intent might be, as individuals or as an organization, at the end of the day their function is to maintain the status quo. And as soon as the Sirens gained power over Canterlot and then the country, corruption and murder became normal. It became the status quo. And it has been, ever since.
“And if you’re going to protect that… then…”
There was a pause, and with an unsteady voice she finished, “…then you’re the enemy, Shining.”
“Twilight, listen to yourself!” he cried. “How can you be so blind? I have a duty to the public--!”
“You mean the same public your own cops brutalize and keep in mortal terror every day?” she demanded, fatigue finally disintegrating what little control she had left. “The public your own cops kill with impunity? I’ve seen what you call ‘protect and serve,’ we all have! So don’t try to take the high road on this one, big brother. You don’t get to pull some ‘higher office’ or ‘public trust’ card. You don’t have the public trust anymore. You haven’t for a long time.”
“What I have is a responsibility! A moral obligation to keep order through upholding the law! Do you remember what that’s like? To have morals?”
“What you have is owners, Shining! Whoever took over in the power vacuum Rich Hues and the Sirens left behind, they own you. That’s the only way you went from undercover snitch to police commissioner almost overnight. You are bought and paid for, and they’ve got three years of our lives as the receipts!”
Her voice became soft again, full of tears as she went on, “And you know what? One fine day, your office phone is going to ring. You’ll pick it up, and it’ll be whoever is pulling your strings, saying it’s time to take us down. To bring us in so we can be executed, nice and legal, as a message to anyone else who dares to fight them. And when they do, you’ll do everything in your power to make it happen.”
“What? Twily, I’d never--!”
“Why not? You have before.”
As Shining Armor stood in shocked silence, his sister’s voice became soft, filled with regret.
“And yes, we’re public enemy number one,” she said. “Thank you for that. But history has shown what happens when a person’s society and its rulers turn against them. Compare the examples of Trotsky and Alcibiades to those of Tepes and Sombra. When you’re in our position, you’ve got two options. You can either spend the rest of your life in hiding, waiting to have your head smashed in or get shot while running out of a burning house…
“…or, you can conquer.”
The Rainbooms logo began vanishing from the various monitors one by one, but Twilight’s voice continued with crystal clarity over the connection.
“So we’re taking back Canterlot, Shining,” she said. “And yes, we’re doing it for the people. But we’re also doing it for us. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay the hell out of our way.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Shining Armor barely realized he was moving as he slowly slumped into a chair. He was too dizzy to stand, too nauseous to speak. He barely noticed that the systems were again completely under local control, barely heard when the door opened again, a young officer informing him that the press were gathered outside, wanting to talk to him.
Only one thought ruled his mind.
Twilight.
> Episode 8. Rainbooms: The Long, Hard Road out of Hell.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The motel room door flew open in a rainbow burst, revealing an unconscious Twilight, looking more shrunken than ever in the bedding that propped her up. On her lap and surrounding her were an assortment of screens, all showing different readouts or camera views. By the side of the bed were two power strips, a tower, a few hubs of cord connectivity, and a small fan blowing furiously on the entire assembly.
“We gotta git outta here,” Apple Bloom said. “Rainbow?”
Rainbow Dash didn’t even look up. She was already feeling Twilight’s forehead, checking her throat for pulse. 
“I’m way ahead of ya,” she said. “Got a burner?”
Apple Bloom tossed her the disposable phone, and the blue woman caught it as she straightened.
“Awesome,” Rainbow said. “Get Twilight’s latest Cerebro into the car, wilya? Don’t worry about shutdown, just unplug and go. Pinkie, get the rest of her gear. I’ll handle Twilight in a second.”
While Rainbow Dash dialed, Apple Bloom began disconnecting the tower from its peripherals and Pinkie staggered about, grabbing and occasionally dropping flatscreens.
“Who ya callin’?” Apple Bloom asked.
Rainbow Dash grinned. “A friend.”









The place was posh. Looking around, Apple Bloom had to give it that. A ways out from the suburbs and far from downtown, Earthstopping was an upscale neighborhood of recent construction. There were plenty of houses with their For Sale signs still out, including this one. Zephyr Breeze wasn’t into real estate anymore, but he still knew people who were.
So, the Rainbooms had the rest of the month to use the place as a safe house, though they still needed to keep it on the DL. Vehicle in the garage, no leaving during the day, the usual.
He’d even loaned the Rainbooms his painter’s van for the time being. It had more room, and was much less conspicuous, than the Evade… which was probably headed for a chop shop somewhere. Apparently, Zephyr knew folks from when he was a mechanic, too.
At least, probably he’d been a mechanic? Apple Bloom hadn’t felt like asking questions just then. Neither had anyone else. 
Now, they were just about moved in, not that that took much. The place had five upstairs bedrooms, a hot tub big enough to throw a party in, and a fridge stocked with champagne. There were even potted plants, for all that they were plastic. Lots of windows, which made Apple Bloom a little uncomfortable… but there were also blinds for privacy, which Zephyr closed while he and Rainbow Dash wandered the house, talking. Twilight’s computer and its extras were in the main bedroom, along with Twilight. They would set it back up after everyone had gotten some rest.
As Apple Bloom wandered back down the stairs, she could hear Rainbow Dash and Zephyr wrapping up by the front door.
“…there’s technically Internet,” he was saying, “so agents can have access while they’re closing the deal, but it’s slow as hell. Of course, knowing Twilight, she’ll figure a way around that. Oh, and I brought you a new burner, for when you ditch that one. I’ll recognize the number if you call. So, if you need anything…”
Taking the new phone, Rainbow smiled. “I know.”
Then, glancing towards the garage, she said, “So, you’re painting now?”
He shrugged. “‘Artistic interior décor,’ Last week I was working fossils into a law office’s walls. Before that, I was putting different flowers and plants on the walls of a spa’s rest rooms.”
“Yeah. So, you’re painting.”
Zephyr shook his head. “That’s just part of it. My main thing is taking real objects and sealing them against the structure, so it’ll have the texture of whatever the customer wanted. Then, I drybrush it to fit either the décor’s theme or suit the rest of the building.”
“Bet you’re making a killing.”
“Last week I made thirty grand in four days.”
Rainbow blinked. “Nice.”
Zephyr shrugged again. “Yeah, but now that I’ve got it down it’s gotten pretty dull. I got an offer to do some set design for a musical, and there’s an up-and-coming band looking for a special effects guy. So, I dunno.”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Man, you do you.”
He grinned as well. “Always.”
Then, both their grins faded. Rainbow Dash put a hand on Zephyr’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Zeph.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes serious.
He smiled a little. “Hey, anytime.”
They hugged, and then he gently closed the door behind him.
Re-entering the living room, Apple Bloom gave her a quizzical look. “Thought you couldn’t stand that guy?”
“Well, yeah, back in school. He was hitting on me, like, constantly.”
“Yeah, I remember. When’d he stop?”
“I dunno.” Rainbow shrugged as she locked the door. “When we both grew up, I guess.”
Rainbow Dash paused, considering the teen before her.
“Y’know, you were pretty good back there,” she said.
Apple Bloom started, then grinned. “‘Man, don' tell me how good I was. I jus’ got away with it because I had a hangover. I was too mad to be scared, and too sick to worry about it.’”
Rainbow Dash thought for a moment, then brightened. “El Dorado.”
“Best damn movie ever made,” Apple Bloom pronounced.
“I dunno, what about Star Trek II?”
Apple Bloom made a show of mulling it over. “Mmm. Close, but no cigar.”
“Casablanca.”
“Oh, now, that ain’t even fair,” Apple Bloom protested. “That there’s a class all its own, an’ everybody knows it.”
“Yeah, okay, point,” Rainbow conceded with a smile. Then, yawning, she added, “Listen, I’m gonna crash. Unless you can think of anything else we need to do?”
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Not me.”
“Good. I’m heading upstairs, then. You coming?”
“Nah, I’m still too wired from everything. Gotta unwind first, I think.”
“Cool enough. Good night.”
“Night.”
Apple Bloom sat in the huge overstuffed chair, feeling herself slowly decompress…
Then, her head snapped up.
Wait. Am I… Am I what now?
Apple Bloom replayed the exchange in her mind several times. She had to have misunderstood.
Rainbow Dash didn’t just… she couldn’t… could she? No. Shoot, no! But then, what…?
Eventually, confused and full of questions, Apple Bloom crept up the carpeted stairs again. The master bedroom door was open. Inside, partially illuminated by the hall light, she could see the other young women tangled under the covers. All of them, sound asleep.
At first, she just stared. 
I am not seein’ this! she thought. Not in a million years!
Then, as she looked, she realized.
This… this ain’t sex.
They looked, at second glance, like kids at a sleepover. Or like kittens in a pile, maybe.
But that wasn’t right, either.
The Rainbooms had always shared a special bond. Well, not always… but ever since Princess Twilight had come into their world, and Sunset had turned herself around, they had. And as that bond had grown, for a time Apple Bloom and her fellow CMCs had been downright jealous of what was happening between their older siblings. 
Not one of her prouder moments, she admitted to herself.
But now, Apple Bloom remembered why she’d been so jealous. She’d always been close to Applejack; her sister had all but raised her. But over time, AJ and her new friends had steadily become even closer. And that had been hard to take.
And even then, Apple Bloom realized, she’d never understood just how tight a bond they’d had. Not until now.
Because those three weren’t sisters, or lovers, or whatever else. Their connection ran deeper than that. Deeper than anything Apple Bloom had ever seen.
While Apple Bloom watched, Pinkie Pie made a noise in her sleep, her shaved head showing clearly the cords tensing in her neck. Then, the violet arms around her squeezed a little more, and her tension subsided. A moment later, Twilight murmured something, half-frowning in the dim light. Sky-colored arms curled around her from behind, and she relaxed again.
It made sense, Apple Bloom realized. Twilight and Pinkie Pie tangled together, supporting one another, even as Rainbow Dash spooned them both.
Because they weren’t just sleeping.
They were healing.
Apple Bloom stood in the doorway, uncertain. Then, she took a tentative step into the threshold.
She’d been invited, she reminded herself.
Then again, maybe Dash had meant upstairs to another room. Or she might have just misspoken. God knew they were all tired enough.
And even then, what if the others just didn’t want her there? Images of Twilight, half-awake and confused at her presence, swam before her mind.
Apple Bloom hesitated, half in shadow, aching.
From behind the other two women, Apple Bloom heard Rainbow Dash sigh.
She considered the other bedrooms in the house. There was certainly nothing wrong with any of them. And having her own door she could close, that was the kind of thing that by all rights she should have been embracing right then.
But the thought of being alone with her nightmares, even just one more night…
Later on, she couldn’t remember crossing the room. She just remembered slipping under the covers, even as Pinkie Pie rolled over in her sleep, reaching out and pulling her in while Apple Bloom embraced her in kind.
Exhausted, Apple Bloom fell asleep at once.
The dreams were as bad as ever. Things she’d seen. Things she’d done for revenge, or even just to survive. Other things, things she’d tried to forget. But this time, even in sleep, she could feel the others around her.
It didn’t make it any less painful, or any less terrifying. Not really. But somehow, their presence helped just the same. 
Apple Bloom woke several times throughout the day. But when she saw the others still sleeping, it just seemed right to close her eyes and let herself drift back again.









It was night when they truly awakened, more or less all at once. With the blinds all pulled the women could turn on a few lights. Zephyr Breeze had been by while they’d slept and stocked the kitchen with supplies, so Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie decided to make breakfast. But then one thing led to another, and next thing Apple Bloom knew those two were in a cook-off.
Twilight had just managed to prop herself up against the pillows when her three friends re-entered the bedroom, bringing in a seemingly endless assortment of serving dishes, platters, and bowls… along with some plates, eating bowls, and cutlery.
What followed was part bedroom picnic and part smorgasbord, with all four of the young women eating, talking, and even laughing until the sun had once again started to rise. It had seemed to Apple Bloom that there had been enough food to fill a dozen people, easy. And Twilight still wasn’t eating much. But afterwards, surrounded by dirty dishes, she had to admit that none of it had gone to waste. It reminded her of the parties they’d used to throw years ago, before everything had changed. Or the jamborees her kin had gathered for, years before that.
And then, when for no damn good reason at all the tears started coming and Apple Bloom just couldn’t keep them in any more, suddenly she was caught in an embrace by three sets of arms. She clung to them like she was drowning, kneeling by the bed where Twilight lay, whispering apologies the whole time.
Finally, the storm in her heart passed, leaving Apple Bloom wrung out and exhausted.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Twilight said at the end.
“Yeah, we’re cool,” Rainbow Dash agreed. “It’s kinda why we’re here.”
“Well, yeah, that and cupcakes,” Pinkie Pie added. 
Then, looking at Rainbow Dash, she let out a gasp of horror.
“Oh, my god! Dashie! We forgot to make the cupcakes…!”
Laughing again through her tears, Apple Bloom reached out and hugged them all again, just as fiercely. 
It had been a long time. But it was good to have family again.
> Episode 9. Rainbooms: Sweet Child of Mine.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, so, we up for a planning session?” Rainbow Dash finally asked. “I mean, hunkering down is great, but we gotta have a next step, you know?”
Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah. Like taking the fight t’them, right? We cain’t just keep runnin’…”
“We’ll take the fight to them,” Twilight agreed. “All of them. But not in the way you’re probably thinking.”
The other women looked at her quizzically as she took another sip of Crocaide.
“We aren’t fighting the Sirens anymore,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “But Canterlot is worse than ever, and from what I can gather it’s spilled out across the rest of the world. I can’t tell how much of what’s going on now is a holdover from Siren magic. They got too powerful for anyone to be sure. After all, bringing out the worst in others and feeding on the results… it’s what they did. And by the end, they were doing it on a national scale, maybe more.
“But what I do know is that we can’t use that as an excuse. None of us can, for anything. It’s too easy, too damn dangerous. Plus, we’re not fighting magical monsters anymore. We’re fighting regular people now, and we’ve got magic that they don’t. That gives us a higher degree of responsibility.”
Rainbow Dash frowned. “How come?” 
“Philosophical imperatives aside, it isn’t just Canterlot we’ve got to take back. Whether or not we were under the Sirens’ influence magically, we’ve all done things we regret. 
“So, we’ve got to take back ourselves, as well.”
She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.
“We’ve all been dealing with what we’ve done as best we can. And we’ll keep doing that. But it’s imperative that we realize that we’re not in that situation anymore. Plus, we need to be sure that we’re doing what we do because of us, not because of some lingering after-effect of the Sirens’ magic. So, I think it’s time for some new rules. 
“So. Rule number one: no more killing. Starting today. Right now.”
“Wait,” Rainbow Dash interjected. “Just what the hell are we supposed to use against guns and SWAT teams? Harsh language?”
“Cain’t guarantee no deaths with a gun,” Apple Bloom added. “Not on either side.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash agreed. “Meanwhile, there are more of them than us, and they’re way better trained! Even with magic…”
Twilight shook her head slightly against her pillow. “I’ve already thought of all that. And you’re right, the police and the gangs do outnumber us. But this time, we’ll be the ones better equipped. Without our being kept too busy for anything but constant street war, I should be able to establish a new lab. I’ve got some ideas for non-lethal weaponry that should make the difference.”
Then she smiled a little, adding, “Well, that and magic, of course.”
While Rainbow Dash nodded and Pinkie Pie looked more uncomfortable by the moment, Apple Bloom looked down.
“Um, Twilight?” she said. “I ain’t got magic. Never did, never will. What am I s’posed to do?”
“Apple Bloom...”
At the sound of her name, the teen looked up, to see Twilight giving her a sad and loving smile.
“None of this would have been possible without you,” Twilight said softly. “Without you, I couldn’t have escaped. Without you, Pinkie would have been overpowered and gunned down by cops in a head-on assault. And Rainbow Dash would have been sent back to a solitary cell, awaiting execution. We all owe you our lives. And I want to repay that debt.
“I can get you a ticket to anywhere. Under any name you want.”
“No.”
“I can establish you in a new life, with a new past…”
“No!” Apple Bloom insisted. “I gotta debt t’pay, too! They killed Applejack, Granny, an’ Big Mac! I ain’t leavin’ ‘till I get things square.”
“And when will that be?” Pinkie’s voice asked softly.
The other three turned to face her as she stared at them all with huge, sad eyes.
“You already hunted down the cops that killed the Apples,” the pink girl said, hugging her knees. “How many more will it take? Or… or do you just keep doing it, until your luck runs out? Do we make one last run, to get your body back? Do we bury you next to your family?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she looked away, adding, “Because I don’t want that. And I don’t think they would, either.”
For a moment, Apple Bloom glared at her, and it looked like she was going to argue. Then, she looked down with a sigh.
“Anyplace you want,” Twilight said gently. “Start over. Please.”
But the younger woman just shook her head, still looking down. “I ain’t leavin’ ya in the lurch. That ain’t happenin’.”
“But—“
“No,” Apple Bloom said again. “I’m with ya ‘till the end. Y’all just need t’come to peace with that. An’ I dunno when that debt gets paid. But… but, you’re right. None of ‘em’d want…”
Apple Bloom’s voice trailed off, and, reluctantly, Twilight nodded. 
“Alright,” she said. “But the nanosecond you change your mind…”
“Yeah, I know.” Apple Bloom swallowed. Then, turning to the pink girl, she added, “An’ Pinkie?”
Pinkie Pie blinked quizically.
Apple Bloom gave a reluctant smile. “Thank you.”
Pinkie nodded, still sniffling, as Apple Bloom hugged her, and let go of her legs long enough to hug her back. 
“Okay, I do have some ideas for equipment that might make up for a lack of magic,” Twilight said, “but that can wait. Right now… Pinkie?”
Still holding Apple Bloom, Pinkie Pie looked away.
Rainbow Dash frowned in concern. “Pinkie Pie?”
“Guys,” the pink girl sniffed, “my magic is for parties. For making people laugh. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, I really am, but I just can’t…”
“You don’t have to,” Twilight said. She reached out to Pinkie Pie, who tearfully took Twilight’s emaciated hand in one of her own, still holding onto Apple Bloom with the other while the younger girl hugged her tighter.
”You never should have been part of this in the first place,” Twilight said. “None of us wanted this, but you were against it from the beginning. And even with that, you’ve already done more than anyone had any right to ask of you. And of all of us, I think you’ve suffered the most.”
While Pinkie continued sniffling, Twilight squeezed her hand as well as she could.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” Twilight said. “Look, your folks should still be in Germany. I can get you plane tickets, if you want. And I know where the village they moved to is. You could go there, be with your family. Get some rest.”
Tearfully, Pinkie nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” Twilight smiled. “You’re leaving tonight. I’ll get you tickets, run interference for you until you’re out of the country.”
Embracing Pinkie from behind, Rainbow Dash added, “Hey. Cheer up, Pinks. You saved me! You saved all of us!”
And then, she added softly, “And nobody’s forgetting that, especially me.”
There were several more minutes of silent embraces, until finally the young women separated slightly, with Rainbow Dash leaning on one side of Pinkie Pie, and Apple Bloom leaning on the other.
“Anyway,” Twilight said at last, “that brings me to rule number two: no more recruiting. This isn’t a gang war. We went down that road once, and I don’t think any of us want to do that again.” 
Then she sighed, ran her hand through her hair. “But we can’t do nothing, either. So--”
“Wait,” Rainbow interrupted. “What about what you were telling Shining Armor? You know, about us having two choices and stuff?”
Twilight stared. “Oh, my God. You heard that?”
Apple Bloom looked uncomfortable. “Y’left the channel open.”
“Though, in your defence, you were pretty exhausted,” Pinkie observed. “It’s not a shock you were passed out by the time we got to you.”
Then, after a pause, she added, “Hey, did you know you snore?”
Twilight covered her face for several moments, then finally looked up again.
“Okay. I’m not proud of what I said then. And, God, I said it to Shining…!” 
She lapsed into silence, then finally said, “I wish I’d said it differently, but I was exhausted and freaked out, and…” 
She shook her head. “Okay, no. No more excuses.”
Twilight took a deep breath, let it out. 
“I should have said it differently,” she said. “Especially to my brother. But the core of what I said was true. The cops in this town have become another gang. The most dangerous one, really. They have the most resources and the greatest degree of public consent, even with their own criminal acts. Plus governmental backing.
“And we are hunted women, all of us. Which means if we don’t take control of the situation, we’re just going to die tired and scared. But while we may be fighting the cops from time to time, they aren’t the main concern. It’s the street gangs we have to take down, along with the corruption that allowed all this to happen.”
Her eyes narrowed as she concluded, “The Canterlot Gang War is over. We’re not bringing it back.”
Rainbow Dash frowned. “Wait. You just said we’re taking down the gangs… but we’re not fighting them?”
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom frowned. “Jus’ what the hell are we doin’?”
“Oh, we’ll take the gangs down, all right,” Twilight assured them. “But this isn’t a gang war.” 
At their looks of confusion, Twilight smiled, though the hardness in her eyes and voice did not waver. 
“This is a revolution.”







After the courthouse fiasco, Shining Armor had managed to keep it together until he’d gotten home, waving the press off as he’d gotten into his car and sped away. He remembered that much. But after that point, everything was kind of a blur. 
He had vague memories of flinging open his door, of throwing things, of screaming and punching the walls. His hands were bloody from where he’d punched the mirror before him, leaving what glass remained fractured and warped.
Then, his anger flowing out from him, he’d finally just collapsed on the couch in tears, falling quickly into an exhausted sleep. He’d only awakened when he’d suddenly jackknifed up, choking on bile, the last images of his nightmares fading from his mind.
Now, Shining Armor stood at the bathroom sink, still drained from his earlier fury, his nausea for the most part spent.
Despite everything he’d tried and everything he’d done, Twilight was gone.
You’re the enemy, Shining.
Stay the hell out of our way.
Shaking, he squeezed his eyes shut.
That was it. 
He’d lost her.
During the gang war, Cadence had left Canterlot, taking Flurry with her. And that had made sense, he’d told himself. She’d been protecting herself, and she’d been protecting the baby. They’d parted angrily, sure. But it had been temporary, and it had been for the best. He’d told himself that, again and again.
But then, the Sirens had destroyed Canterlot High, killing most of the people within. Some of the dead had been friends of his, people he’d gone to school with at Crystal Prep before they’d become faculty at CHS. But mostly, they’d been friends of Twily and her fellow Rainbooms.
The Rainbooms had changed tactics then, fighting fire with fire. And he’d changed with them, walking a delicate line between gangster and cop. He’d moved his parents out of town around then, trying to make sure Cadie had the support she’d needed while keeping them all out of the splash zone. And they’d been glad to go, to get away from the gangsters they’d felt they didn’t know anymore. His sister, and him.
The last time he and his wife had talked, it had been after the explosion that had killed Rich Hues and almost killed Twilight. And, inevitably, they’d fought again. The war was over now, and he’d wanted her to come home. 
But to her, Tailahassee had become home. Even as Canterlot had become a dangerous place to raise a family, and Twilight had become a criminal. Much as it had hurt her to say it, the Rainbooms had made their life’s decisions, and it was time for him to move on. She’d asked him to quit his job, move up north where the rest of the family was.
Somehow, Cadence hadn’t understood that even then, leaving hadn’t been an option for him. Whether she wouldn’t understand that, or just couldn’t, he had no idea. But without his influence, Rainbow Dash would have died in her cell, just another murdered convict to be forgotten. And Twilight, his baby sister, would have been killed in her sleep. 
And he knew he could have gotten Cadie to understand, if they could have just talked about it. But somehow, when he’d tried to tell all that to his wife, he’d just ended up screaming instead. He could still hear Flurry crying in the background, his wife begging him with tears in her voice.
He couldn’t even remember who’d hung up. Maybe they both had. He just remembered them yelling at each other, and then feeling emptied out afterwards, holding a dead phone in his hand. 
That had been three years ago.
And now, Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash were loose again. They’d broken Pinkie Pie out, as well. All of them armed with a magic that the police just weren’t equipped to handle, aided by Apple Bloom as a new, deadly first recruit.
The Canterlot Gang Wars had started all over again. And it was all because of him.
He stood there for several moments, alone, hands to either side of the sink and eyes squeezed tight against the tears. Everything he’d lost, he’d sacrificed to keep his sister safe. And now, in all the ways that mattered, he had lost her, too.
He could feel himself falling. It was as if the ground had crumbled beneath him, leaving no place to stand. Everything was just falling away, until only darkness remained.
Shaking, he brought his eyes up again, stared at his visage in the mirror’s shards still clinging to their frame. 
Broken glass is incredibly sharp, he thought. 
It would be so easy.
He saw his sunken cheeks, the dark-ringed eyes burned into his face, the stubble formed above the crumpled collar of his shirt. The wrinkled coat. The badge hanging from its chain around his neck.
He stopped.
I spent months without this thing, he thought. Only when the Rainbooms went down did I put it on again. I’d always thought of it as an amulet, a charm I could use to protect people. And when the dust had settled, my family and friends had never needed a protector more. 
I kept telling myself, I was using it to keep them safe. And when I got promoted, it just got more powerful. I could do more with it, protect them better than ever before…
He lifted up the badge, feeling the weight of the gold in its leather case. 
So… when did it get so heavy?
Looking back, it had probably stopped being a talisman around when Cadence had truly left him, at the end of that last, fateful call. Not all at once, of course. But with her gone, as the nights had gotten longer and lonelier and the days more crowded and hopeless, he’d felt more and more like some damned Ancient Mariner. A cursed interloper, doomed to live forever alone in penance for his sins. And his badge, the constant reminder of his failures.
But looking at the broken reflection before him, he realized he’d been wrong. The badge he wore had never been a talisman of protection, nor a burden to bear.
It was a promise. It was a commitment to uphold the law.
Shining Armor seized on that new revelation like a man in quicksand clutching at an overhead vine, pulling himself into the certainty he needed. It was all he had left now, and he held it close with a desperation he didn’t know he’d had. It was his last foundation, his final source of light against the darkness.
When Commissioner Armor finally raised his head again, the fractured man before him was strangely composed. Determined. His breathing was almost steady again, his eyes and voice almost calm, his eyes hardened with new resolve.
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” he said. “But I never got out of your way.”
> Intermission 1. Anon-A-Miss: We Built This City.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The broadcast started with a black screen.
The footage faded in quickly. It was silent and jerky, with the frame rate of an old, cheap cartoon. But the story it told spoke louder than words. Sometimes it would shift from one camera to another, always angled from above. But the date/time stamp at the upper left corner kept running, and made it very clear that all the footage, sometimes indistinct through the falling water but always telling in its indiscriminate violence, was from the same event.
In the lower right, a silhouette formed, obviously a lighting effect applied to a real person. At first, she stood almost motionless in front of the footage’s green screen effect. A woman, slender of build with a mane of long, wavy hair, wearing a jacket with a distinctive collar.
“As of this broadcast,” the figure said, “it was almost exactly twenty-four hours ago that Canterlot was reminded of why so many of us have trouble sleeping at night. Of why we don’t let our children out of the house anymore. Of why we don’t talk about anything that matters when we might be overheard. Especially anything dealing with police violence, purchased elections, or corporate takeovers.”
The vocal distortion was just enough to fool voice recognition, not enough to obscure her tone or gender. The shadow hiding her features was just enough to allow plausible deniability. But by now, after over three years of underground broadcasts, there was almost no one who didn’t recognize her, or at least her outline. And no matter who you were, if you’d seen her work, then you also knew the handle she used, both online and as a street artist.
“This is Anon-A-Miss, reminding you that this footage – you saw it first on Channel 8 News – was live as hell, coming from inside the Canterlot courthouse. In it, you can see with your own eyes the city’s gestapo doing their usual overkill without regard for anybody in their way. This is raw security camera footage. Nothing about this was doctored. No CGI or stock footage, regardless of what the people who own the networks and think they own the city want you to believe.”
The scene behind her shifted to the police commissioner, shaking his head as he descended the court house steps, waving off questions from almost every news channel in the city. The silhouette glanced up at him, then back to address the camera, crossing her arms as she did.
“The Powers That Be cracked down on the transmission, of course. And official statements have been sparse. But I think that our local commissar having no comment as he left the building’s wreckage was pretty telling. So did the networks, until their parent company told them to shut up and sit down, like nice doggies. And they did, of course. They always do.”
As Commissioner Shining’s car sped away from the press, the background scene shifted again, fading into an earlier scene on those same steps, of a newscaster speaking excitedly into her mic as lights flashed in the windows above her.
“But the company’s problem is that there are still journalists out there. And every now and then, those journalists remember why they got into the game in the first place. They remember what ‘journalistic integrity’ means. And they can do a lot for the cause before they get shut down.
“Rundown, the journalist who ran the piece, is on indefinite leave from her job. And, less known, so is Nat Sound, the guy who was running the camera and transmitting the footage. They both ignored the studio when they were told to shut up and spin, and now they pay the price for having souls. At least, for the moment.”
Rundown faded away, overrun by a seemingly endless cascade of hundred dollar bills filling the screen. Anon-A-Miss glanced at the falling money, then once again faced the camera, gesturing emphatically as she did.
“But the thing is, even though Carousel owns controlling interest in every news channel in the city, their stock holders all want the same thing: money. If doing this kind of garbage becomes unprofitable, they will stop on a goddamn dime. And we, as a people, need to stand up for these two! We owe it to every person who stands up for the truth to return the favor. Because when they stand up for the truth, they’re standing up for us, too.”
Then, several URLs appeared in white at the bottom of the screen. Pointing downward, the silhouette added, “PS: click on the links below for how to make sure your voice is heard by these corporate creeps, and how to make punishing journalists for telling the truth unprofitable.”
As the links faded away, the moneyfall parted like curtains. They revealed Starlight Glimmer, smugly speaking in her interview with Graceful Poise. Pointing at her for a moment, Anon-A-Miss continued:
“Meanwhile, because they own your media, your banks, your police and your homes, Starlight Glimmer thinks she and Carousel own you. But the reality is, no matter how many millions they spend or how many lies they spin, they can never, ever, own your lives.”
The scene froze on Starlight gesturing proudly towards an overhead screen showing Canterlot’s best known and most exclusive neighborhood of high-rise apartments and the massive office building they surrounded. Atop the office building was the word, CAROUSEL. Below it rested the company’s sunburst logo. 
“Over the last three years,” Anon-A-Miss snarled, “Carousel has forged an empire off of media manipulation, stolen technological advances, and corporate-backed housing swindles. An empire defended by cops bought and paid for, and by street gangs taking corporate money in exchange for targeting corporate competitors and vocal critics of their corporate masters… and in at least one case, for becoming an unofficial security force for the company itself.”
The scene slowly began to fade to black as she continued speaking, all save for the orange sunburst, which gradually attained a brighter glow.
“And, by all measures, there is no better symbol for their evil than the personal mark of Celestia, former principal of Canterlot High. The crest of the woman who gave her life in a vain attempt to save her students, years ago… quietly incorporated since then as a company logo. Its original meaning deliberately corrupted for profit, her life and her sacrifice now all but forgotten.”
The sunburst vanished, the screen becoming a void of darkness, the silhouette a marginally visible shadow within it.
“But now,” the woman’s voice went on, “we can see that evil empire finally starting to crack. And with the Rainbooms at their gates, Glimmer and Carousel have a real fight on their hands. And while they will fight, make no mistake. 
“They. Will. Lose.”
Footage began to fade in to fill the void. Older cell phone footage of street gangsters… not in the colors of the current Three Gangs of the city, but in blue, in yellow, in red. Fire fights running rampant across the city streets of Canterlot, through the neighborhood and around the school that the buildings in the previous shots had ultimately replaced. 
“They will lose,” she went on, becoming more animated, “not because the Rainbooms are so badass – although they are – but because the Rainbooms have fought this fight before. In my next broadcast, I’ll be covering the rise and fall of the Sirens, the three women who were the prime movers behind the Equestria Gang War. The same war that the talking heads have been trying to lay at the Rainbooms’ feet ever since Carousel rose to power. And I’ll show you, through historical record, what most of you will hopefully already remember: how the Rainbooms saved us from a growing empire of violence and corruption that was tearing the city apart.
“And now, maybe, just maybe, the Rainbooms will do it again.”
The silhouette’s voice rose as she continued, “And as for Starlight Glimmer, I’ll just say this: she may have the money… but we are the people. And baby, there are millions of us! 
“Carousel had to stop their housing scams last year, because of the people. Their nuclear plant is under federal investigation, because of the people. The media is starting to reveal the truth, even when they know they’ll be punished, because of the people. Carousel has the cops, the politicians, and even the Three Gangs for their allies. But now, for the first time since the Sirens and their empire fell… we’ve got allies too!”
She was almost shouting now, her movements giving full reign to her passions, all pretense of neutrality forgotten. This was no newscaster, underground or no. This was a revolutionary, and she was calling out to any and all who would listen with every ounce of her soul.
“So when you see the hype, you just remember: these are the people that Starlight Glimmer wants you to fear because she’s afraid! Afraid they’ll topple her kingdom like they did the last time petty tyrants tried to run us down! Afraid that they’ll carry the fight in ways we can’t! And most of all, afraid they’ll help you remember that the city belongs not to her, but to those who live in it!”
With some effort, the speaker pulled herself back. But while her motions and voice became more sedate, her intensity wavered none at all:
“So if you see these women, give ‘em a shout! Let them know you know they’ve got your back, and that you’ve got theirs! If there’s some small way you can help them out, something that won’t get you busted by the cops, do it. And when the time comes, and it will… be ready to take a stand.”
Behind her, the screen shifted to a montage of police violence and Starlight Glimmer speeches, shifting from full-color to black and white.
“This has been Anon-A-Miss, saying: keep circulating the videos, keep to the truth, and don’t let anybody program you but yourself.”
The silhouette vanished. There was a pause as the footage montage continued for a few seconds. Then it, too, faded back into the void from whence it had come.
> Intermission 2. Pinkie Pie: Civil War.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a gentle knock on the hardwood door. When there was no answer, it repeated. Just as gentle. Just as reluctant.
Still in bed, Pinkie Pie closed her eyes. “Come in,” she said.
She’d said it in English, she realized, not in the out-of-date form of German that the villagers preferred. She winced. Old habits died hard. Some, harder than others. If she couldn’t even control how she spoke, how was she supposed to change how she acted? To stop hurting people, like she’d hurt so many people before?
And besides, she felt so sick. And over the last few days since her arrival, she’d just been getting sicker. It was like having every bad flu she’d ever caught, all at once. Shaking, fevers, aches… a nausea so powerful it was crippling. Half the time she was freezing, the other half she lay on her bed wearing only her nightgown, gasping and overheated. Plus being so dizzy she could barely stand, and so muzzy that, half the time, she couldn’t tell if she was even awake or not. And then she’d lie awake for hours, unable to move, somehow too exhausted to sleep.
And she couldn’t face anyone. Even her family. Somehow she just… couldn’t.
She knew at least some of it had to be withdrawal from whatever the hospital had been giving her. She knew she should be taking the pills Twilight had had Rainbow Dash get for her, to ease the detox process. The villagers didn’t have any problem with medications. They wouldn’t mind.
But dammit, she minded. She couldn’t put into words just why, she just did.
She heard the door open and close, almost silently. Heard the hard, heavy boots slowly approach. Heard the chair lift up from the floor so as to disturb the silence as little as possible, then rest carefully on the floor near her head. Heard the rustle of black-dyed cotton clothes as the old man who had entered moved. Heard the wood creak slightly as he slowly sat beside her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Hello, Papa,” she said in the German dialect of the village.
“Hello, Pinkamena,” Igneous Stone Pie said in the same tongue. She could hear the smile in his voice.
Silence. Then, he coughed. Looked at the walls around her.
“Thy sisters are concerned for thee,” he said. “They say thou wilt not speak to them. Maude is beside herself. She returned when we sent word of thy arrival, and has been awaiting any news of thy improvement.”
Pinkie Pie seemed to shrink into herself a little. “I’m sorry,” she managed.
Unseen by her, her father shook his head. “They are not angry. No one is. Thy mother is also greatly concerned, however. Thou hast not eaten almost since thy arrival. She asked me to speak to thee.”
Pinkie Pie sighed, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut, wishing everything didn’t hurt so much. She was making her family worry, the very last thing she’d ever wanted to do. Her sisters, her mom… and now, she was making her papa worry. She could hear it in his voice. And somehow, that was even worse.
Her father had married late, vary late, and was technically old enough to be her grandfather. He had been a man in his late forties; his wife, a woman of twenty-five, only recently baptized into the Mennonite community. 
Pinkie still remembered years ago, at dinner, a much younger Maude asking their father why he had married so late. He had replied, I was waiting for thy mother. The smile her parents had shared then was one of the memories of her childhood that Pinkie Pie cherished. 
Of course, having a parent with that level of patience wasn’t always a blessing. While he’d been far less involved in their day-to-day upbringing than their mother, the sisters sometimes had found drawbacks to having a parent who could, literally, outwait anyone. And possibly anything. 
There was the first time that she’d gone to visit the city, for example. She’d snuck out at thirteen, and stayed out through the night. After a while, she’d decided that if she could just stay out late enough, she could fake having gotten up early, and start in on her chores without anyone noticing.
But her father had been there, sitting in the chair he’d moved onto the porch sometime during the night. Waiting in the darkness. Contemplating. Solemn and unmoving as the mountains.
Good morning, Pinkamena, he’d said with a nod. Didst thou have a pleasant walk?
Pinkie had just stared at her shoes. Yes, Papa.
Good, he’d replied as he rose. The cows want for milking.
For the rest of the day, every time she thought she’d created a small gap of time to rest, maybe even nap, Igneous had just happened to be there with another chore that needed doing immediately. By the time the sun had set, Pinkie had been practically falling asleep standing up, literally tripping over her own feet. But somehow, the old man had been as unfazed by his own lack of sleep as ever. Pinkie had only been allowed to sleep after dinner was over… and the seemingly endless sermon that Igneous had led through and after the meal had finally concluded.
It had only been years later that Pinkie had realized he’d already known she and Maude would one day leave the village. The sermon, after all, had been on the parable of the prodigal son. And throughout her and Maude’s absence, he had never judged them. Not once.
But then, there was also the bright winter afternoon when she had found him outdoors, standing, smoking his pipe and seemingly studying their barn with great and careful deliberation.
Hey, whathee doin’, Papa, she’d quipped. Watching the paint dry?
Without missing a beat, her father had removed his stone pipe and blown a long, mellow stream of smoke into the crisp air.
Be not so impatient, Pinkamena, he’d said. I wait for it to peel.
Pinkie suspected that Maude had inherited her deadpan sense of humor from their father.
And now, he sat by her bedside. Waiting.
Her eyes shifted to the ceiling. There was a kind of comfort in the familiar patterns in the stained wood planks she had known since her childhood.
Beside her, the old Mennonite sighed.
“Well, I said I would speak,” he said. “And so I have. Badly, I have no doubt. But words were ever the gift of thy mother, not I. Still… it remains that we love thee.”
He paused.
“I love thee,” he said. 
Sighing again, he went on, “And I am not content to be idle and see whether thou canst heal thyself or not. The world has bitten thee, I think. Like a serpent. And I would be a poor father if I did not seek to draw out its poison.”
Pinkie Pie felt herself curling inward under her blankets. 
“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said at last, closing her eyes again. “I can’t. There’s… there’s too much.”
“There is no haste,” her father assured her with a loving smile. “I have nowhere else more pressing to be. I have told thy mother to bring us our meals here until thou art well enough to join us in the dining room.”
“I… don’t think I can,” she said miserably, her eyes still closed. “I know it’s not fair. I’m sorry.”
But he only nodded with a satisfied frown. 
“Fasting is good for the soul,” he said. “Thou’rt wise beyond thy years. I shall join thee in thy fast. We shall purify our souls together. For I think thy struggles today speak of some failing of mine, years agone. And what greater sin, than to fail a child?”
Reaching out to stroke her cheek, he continued, “While thou remains in silence, then we shall remain together in silence before God. And when thou art ready to speak of thy pain, be it a day or a hundred years from now, then and only then shall we lance the wound in thy heart and let speech drain out its venom. And none shall ever hear of thy words outside of this room.”
> Intermission 3. Rainbooms: True Colors.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Eighteen.. nineteen... c’mon, Twi, one more sit-up.”
“Mmmmmph...!”
“It’s just one sit-up! You can do one sit-up, can’t’cha?”
“Urrrrrrrgh...!”
“C’mon, Twi, don’t wuss out on me now!”
With a wordless scream, Twilight gave a final surge of effort, connecting her elbows to her bent knees before collapsing.
In a microsecond of blurring speed, Rainbow Dash caught Twilight before her head hit the floor, cradling her in her arms even as she offered her yet another bottle of noxious green solution.
“Are you okay?” Rainbow asked anxiously. “Are you okay, did you tear anything...?”
“Hm-mm,” Twilight shook her head as she drank greedily.
Rainbow Dash watched uneasily as the liquid quickly vanished. It was almost gone when Twilight put it aside, gasping, “No... I’m good... and even if... I wasn’t... it would heal up... pretty quick...”
“Uh-huh,” said Rainbow, giving her a doubtful look. “You keep saying that. All about how you need to half kill yourself. Me, though, I need to take it easy.”
“You... ugh... gimme a minute,” Twilight managed between gulps of air, rolling unevenly onto her side. Rainbow Dash could almost hear her heart hammering in her chest. She nodded and sat back in what she hoped was an encouraging position.
“Sure, take your time. Not like you’re giving fitness nuts a bad name or anything.”
Just then, the basement door flew open, sock feet quickly padding down the concrete steps. Apple Bloom paused at their base, staring at Twilight.
“Y’know, y’could jus’ shoot a body, ‘steada scarin’ her t’death!”
Rainbow Dash turned back to Twilight, pointing at their friend.
“See?” she demanded. “Even Bloomers thinks you’re pushing too hard!”
With effort, Twilight glanced over to where Apple Bloom stood.
“Well, I did ‘bout think you was dyin’,” the younger girl allowed a little uncomfortably. “That, or in labor. Either way, glad t’see yer okay.”
Twilight gave her a weak smile. “So far.”
Rainbow Dash winced, but said nothing.
Apple Bloom looked around herself. The unfinished basement had been empty when they’d first moved in, of course. But Twilight had fixed that as soon as Pinkie’d left.
First, of course, there was the impromptu gym that Twilight’d had Dash set up. Kettle bells, free weights, a treadmill, floor mats... plus sparring pads, weighted batons, and a couple a’ kick pads. Apparently Dash had called her wife up, gotten advice about the sparrin’ gear. All told, about half the space was taken up by exercise equipment.
But then there was the other half, where the lab was. Tables, bottles, glass and plastic coils and whatnot... some of it familiar, some not. Twilight had sent Dash off with a list, a long one, of different chemicals and stuff, and it all played into the mix somehow.
Apple Bloom had always been a little proud of her tutelage under Zecora. She’d learned more from her in a year than she’d learned in a lifetime of regular schoolin’, and that was a fact. But what Twilight had put together, well, that was well beyond her.
Twi had tried to explain it to her and Dash, and Apple Bloom had thought it mighta been something like synthetic steroids, maybe? But she’d never heard of steroids working like this.
Because, god damn.
Four days.
Four days of injections, weird drinks, and eating enough for three people – plus sleeping up to twenty hours a day, anytime she wasn’t working out – and here Twilight was. Pushups, situps, squats (with Rainbow spotting), walking on the treadmill (hanging onto the bars for dear life, with Rainbow Dash half supporting her weight), you name it.
No sparring, though. Not yet. But any fool knew that was coming.
Of course, it wasn’t all inspiring. There were the muscle cramps, for instance. Sometimes Twilight would wake up screaming from them. And the first day, it seemed like she was throwin’ up more than she was keeping down.
But most of all there was that one time, looked like maybe a seizure? It had only happened once that she knew of, while Twilight was on the treadmill. Rainbow Dash had caught her, and she and Apple Bloom had exchanged terrified looks over the gal for nigh onto twenty minutes while she’d writhed and bucked, both of them just trying to keep her from smacking her head into anything.
Whatever that stuff was that Twi kept takin’, it got results, no lie. Apple Bloom just wasn’t sure they were the kind of results a body wanted.
“C’mon, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said gently as she started to gather her up. “Back to bed, I think.”
“I can walk.”
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I’m using my Trainer’s Veto. You hurt yourself, you get carried. You don’t like it, stop hurting yourself.”
“Fascist bitch,” Twilight smiled, her head lolling slightly as Rainbow ascended the stairs with her.
Rainbow Dash gave her a grin. “And you.”
Twilight’s bedroom was the one the women had first shared after their harried arrival. The only difference was a small pile of water bottles by the bed – all empty – a big ol’ box half-full of protein bars, and cardboard taped over the window blinds, keeping out even the smallest amount of daylight.
By the time Rainbow Dash was lowering her back into her bed, Twilight was already asleep. Rainbow and Apple Bloom gently tucked her in, refilled the empty bottles, and then closed the door behind them.
Rainbow Dash sighed, ran a sky-coloured hand through her hair.
“You okay?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Yeah, peachy,” Rainbow said with another sigh, and the two of them headed downstairs to the kitchen.
“Yeah, that sure was the ‘everythin’s fine’ kinda sigh I was hopin’ for,” Apple Bloom nodded sagely. “Yes, ma’am. Sure took a load offa my mind.”
Rainbow Dash tried to give her an angry look and failed, her expression fading into one of pure misery.
“Yeah, okay,” she said. “It’s just... that stuff she’s taking.”
“Do ya know what it is?” Apple Bloom asked softly.
“Not really,” Rainbow Dash said, “Twilight had me burn the list. Zecora might recognize the stuff that was on it, or she might not. I don’t know how much chemistry you gotta know to be a pharmacist. But Twi didn’t have me just burgle a pharmacy. She had me hit a couple of compounding places and a chemical plant, so... I dunno.”
She shrugged and continued, “Anyway, I asked Twi about it, when she first started dosing. I figured, y’know, if it was helping her it might help me.”
Apple Bloom could well imagine the scene. Twilight, happily geeking out while she mixed different compounds together... meanwhile, unseen by her, Rainbow Dash’s head slowly rising up from behind the counter almost cartoonishly, eyes locked on the glass beaker everything was getting dumped into...
But outwardly, Apple Bloom nodded. “Well, sure. You were kept in a, what, ten by ten?”
Rainbow Dash stopped, looking away. 
“Maybe smaller,” she said. “I don’t know. I mean, sure, I still exercised. But there are limits. So, when Twi isn’t working out, I am.”
Then she was walking again, opening the door to the kitchen.
“But when I said that, Twilight got on my ass like... fuck, I don’t even know,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, she was pissed. Or maybe just scared, or maybe both. I hadn’t seen her like that since... you know what, never mind,” she concluded. “The point is, she made me promise that I would never, ever get into the stuff, no matter what.”
“How come?” Apple Bloom asked, fetching down plates and glasses.
Rainbow Dash opened the freezer, contemplated the possibilities. She grabbed two bags of microwavable chicken nuggets, closed the door... then just dropped them with a sigh, turning away from her friend, leaning her hands on the wall and the fridge, her head hanging low.
Apple Bloom frowned and took a step towards her, her voice uncertain. 
“Rainbow Dash?”
“I don’t know what it is or how it works, but Twilight says it’s taking years off her life. Like, a decade or more.”
“What?!?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow said miserably. “Something about ‘systemic cellular strain’ on her organs and stuff.”
Then, facing Apple Bloom for a moment, she added, “And that’s assuming she doesn’t just die of a heart attack or a stroke right there on the basement floor.”
Then she turned away completely, her voice the barest whisper.
“And then... then it’ll be my fault.”
“But... but we gotta stop her! We...” Apple Bloom’s voice fell away as Rainbow Dash slowly turned to face her again, eyes filled with pain.
“We could,” Rainbow Dash said. “It’d be easy. We could refuse to help her with it, keep her out of the basement. Keep her from plotting out her own recovery. Make her physical therapy last the years that it should, instead of weeks or less.
“Of course, then she’d be our prisoner, not our friend,” she said, looking down. “And when the cops – or anybody else – found her, and had her dead to rights, it would be our fault. Ours, and ours alone.
“And so would whatever followed.”
She raised her eyes again to meet Apple Bloom’s stricken ones.
“Or, we can recognize that it’s better to die years from now than tomorrow, and more than that, that it’s her choice.”
Suddenly, Apple Bloom had crossed the room and was holding Rainbow Dash in a fierce embrace. After the briefest of surprised pauses, Rainbow was hugging her back.
“An’ you’ve been jus’ sittin’ on this?” Apple Bloom demanded. “Fer days? Watchin’ her, helpin’ her train, knowin’...”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”
“An’ it ain’t your fault!” Apple Bloom insisted, squeezing her harder. “Y’all just said it yourself, it’s her choice! What’re you supposed t’do, tie her down?”
Rainbow Dash gave a long, jagged sigh.
“I don’t know,” she said miserably. “There’s no good answer, just lots of bad ones. And I do want to help her, she’s my fucking friend, but...”
“But it ain’t fair,” Apple Bloom supplied. “She ain’t just askin’ you to watch, she’s askin’ you to help her maybe kill herself. An’ it ain’t fair.”
“But she can’t do it alone,” Rainbow whispered.
“An’ she’s gotta do it.”
“Yeah. And I have to help her.”
For several minutes, the two women simply stood there, holding each other. Eventually, Apple Bloom spoke.
“You shouldn’t a’ had to carry that yourself,” she said into Rainbow Dash’s hair. Somehow, her voice was both tender and stern. “You didn’t have to. An’ you don’t. Cuz you ain’t alone, now, Rainbow Dash. Not no more. An’ you need to remember that.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Cuz I’m gonna be in this with you, from now on. Every step of the way. You hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you. I guess... I guess I was still kinda thinking of you as a kid.”
Pulling back, Rainbow Dash gently smoothed the younger woman’s hair out of her eyes. “And that wasn’t right. Sorry about that.”
For a what seemed like a long time, their eyes met. The words hovered on the edge of Apple Bloom’s mind as the long moment stretched between them, Please don’t think of me as a kid, Rainbow, please...
Then, Rainbow Dash turned her eyes away, beautiful shades of amaranth and vermillion, and Apple Bloom did likewise.
“Sorry about that,” Rainbow Dash said again.
“Don’t sweat it,” Apple Bloom said, picking up the bags. “High stress, folks gettin’ close, stuff is gonna happen.”
She walked over to the plates, opened the bags, dumped their contents. Arranged the nuggets on the plates, giving her hands something to do.
“An’ I do love you,” she sighed, opening the microwave. “I love all a’you. An’ I can’t speak for you, but me... it’d be dead easy, lettin’ bad times rush me into a bad decision.”
Rainbow Dash watched the younger woman as she cooked, arms crossed, leaning on the far wall.
“So, we just had a moment, and that’s it,” she said. “You’re cool with that?”
The first plate went into the microwave to be zapped.
“Yup. Long as you are.”
Rainbow Dash gave a wry grin. “You know, maturity’s pretty attractive. You’re not exactly killing the mood, here.”
Apple Bloom turned back to her, gave her a smile that was full of mischief.
“Not tryin’ to.”
She laughed while Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.
“But seriously,” Apple Bloom went on, “I figger, once everythin’s said an’ done, an’ we’re not runnin’ a revolution an’ whatnot, maybe the three of us kin sit down an’ talk about it then. But only if you an’ me still feel the same, an’ only if Rarity’s agreeable.”
She held out a fist, adding, “Till then, whaddaya say? Best buds?”
Still grinning, Rainbow Dash pushed herself off the wall and bumped Apple Bloom’s fist with her own.
“Best Buds.”
> Episode 10. Equestria Police Department: Good Cop, Bad Cop.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the following night when Twilight finally roused herself again. Well, she’d half-wakened multiple times in the interim, just long enough to devour more of the water and protein bars that her friends had left for her. But this time she actually felt awake.
More awake than she had felt in a while, actually. 
Frowning both from nervousness and determination, Twilight Sparkle sat up, pivoted in bed... and then, after a moment to gather her strength, carefully stood.
She waited, poised, for the inevitable wave of dizziness, or just for the collapse of her limbs beneath her own weight.
Nothing.
Carefully, gingerly, she took a step. Then another.
On the third step, she stumbled and fell. She had enough training to roll as she fell, so she remained unhurt. But she’d made noise just the same.
Her features contorted into a sour look as her door burst open in a sky-colored blur. She was already saying, “I’m alright,” before finding herself gathered up and gingerly placed back in bed.
“You know, you could have just helped me up,” she grumped, arms crossed where she lay. “I don’t need to be tucked in.”
“Uh-huh,” Rainbow Dash said, unconcerned. “How’re you feeling otherwise?”
Twilight thought for a moment.
“Better than I have been,” she decided. “Lots better. The treatments and the regimen are definitely working.”
Rainbow nodded. “Good. ‘Cuz you’re taking the day off.”
Twilight stared. “What? Rainbow, I have to—”
“She ain’t wrong,” Apple Bloom said from the doorway. The hallway light behind her reduced her to a silhouette, and for a moment Twilight stared, her heart aching.
If she were wearing a hat instead of a bow...
“Rainbow Dash tol’ me a little ‘bout your treatments,” the shadow said. “Now, I ain’t never studied biology like you gals, nor athletics like her. But what I do know is if you don’t give the body a rest cycle now an’ then, somethin’s gotta give.”
“I’ve been doing almost nothing but resting!” Twilight protested. “I sleep almost all day!”
“An’ what you’re doin’ right now, there ain’t no model for,” Apple Bloom went on, unperturbed. “Dash here figgers you need to cycle off that nasty stuff fer a day or so, an’ I figger she knows more about it than you.”
Twilight raised her hand to her forehead. “Guys...”
“Well, now? Which a’y’all has more experience in this kinda thing, you or her?”
“Well, she does, but—”
“Then listen to me when I talk to you! Okay?” Rainbow pleaded. “Please?”
“Yer outnumbered, Twi,” came the Apple drawl again, the grin in her voice unmistakable.
“Uuuurgh, fine!” Twilight exclaimed, her head flopping back onto her pillow. “I’ll take a day off. I don’t think it’s necessary, or advisable, but... fine.”
“Awesome,” Dash grinned. “Oh, and by the way, we made pizza.”
Twilight stared, propping up on one elbow. “Pizza? Oh my god, that sounds amazing right now!”
“Cool,” Rainbow Dash handed over her cane. “Bloomer’s gonna spot’cha while you navigate the stairs, and we’ll see you down there.”





Much to her surprise, Twilight was able to stay up a good twelve hours before retiring. She ate, bathed, played video games with her friends, read... by the time all was said and done, she felt almost normal.
Insanely tired, and definitely still weak, but almost normal.
Her balance was still off, her legs still buckled under her. Once, the arm she was using for the cane gave out, and Rainbow Dash had to catch her when she fell. And climbing the stairs required a good twenty minutes’ rest afterwards, up or down.
But she was better. She was getting her strength back.
She didn’t dare try her magic yet, not while she was undergoing her regimen. If the chemicals she was taking could temporarily increase her chance for stroke - and she had to admit, it was a possibility - then putting any strain on her brain was obviously a bad idea. By her calculations, she’d need to wait at least a week after her physical recovery before using her telekinetic powers; she planned on two, just to be sure.
And based on today’s results, physical recovery was coming quickly. 
Well, not total recovery, she corrected herself. But enough that I’ll be able to stop the chemical enhancements. The girls were right. I needed a day off. But tomorrow, I have to get back on course. Another three, maybe four days, and I should be able to switch to light exercise and combat training.
Assuming, of course, that we don’t get caught first.
It was an uncomfortably slow-paced race against time. Every day – hell, every hour – that they stayed still, it was a chance that some neighbor might notice something and call it in. That some miscalculation in her friends’ breakout would be found, and lead Shining and the rest right to them.
But it remained: rushing forward was suicide. And not just with her treatments. With everything.
She paused.
And that might, she realized, be exactly what Shining was hoping for. He knew that she was desperate. She had to admit, she’d made that much perfectly clear. 
And desperate people make mistakes.
She’d been considering going online, accessing the police files on her and the other Rainbooms. Checking up on what they knew and what they didn’t. But thinking about the matter, that could wait. For that matter, it had to wait. Her brother had never been good with technology, but he had access to others who were. And even if she was better than all of them combined – which, she acknowledged, she almost certainly was – it only took one mistake. Any mistake. 
And then she and her friends would be...
Twilight frowned. 
Caught? She liked to think so. At least, she liked to think that was what her brother would want.
But this was different than before. Shining wasn’t on her side this time. He was working for someone else. Someone who wanted her dead. And big brother knew her far better than she knew him.
And while it hurt even to think it, she had to recognize that he might not be trying just to catch them anymore. She had to remind herself of that, again and again. At least, until he came back to his senses.
Of course, even when he did, the rest of the force would still just want her dead.
Twilight stared at the ceiling, calculating.
If the old cover ID’s she had made before the end still held up, then there was a far better place for the three of them to hole up than a borrowed pre-fab house. Rainbow Dash was being incredibly patient, but certainly she would be anxious to see her wife again.
Just for a little while. Just long enough to find and set up a proper base of operations.
Assuming, of course, that Rarity wasn’t being watched. Granted, that seemed unlikely, since Rainbow Dash had called her shortly after moving in. And apparently the call hadn’t been traced.
Twilight frowned. Another mistake. If she’d been awake, she could have arranged for counter-measures, just in case. But she hadn’t been, and they’d all just been so exhausted, physically and emotionally. She couldn’t even blame Rainbow for the lapse.
So to all appearances, Rarity was still secure. But Twilight understood that in any information field, three years was a long time. So if she was going to be honest with herself, that had been luck. And luck was something they didn’t dare count on.
Thinking back to the task of moving their temporary base, cleaning the borrowed house would also take time... time which had to be accounted for. Torching the place would only draw attention, inviting experts in deduction to look for anything the Rainbooms and the fire had missed. 
No. It had to be scrubbed clean the old fashioned way, leaving no trace whatsoever of their passing.
And while Zephyr had said they should have a month, Twilight knew that unexpected things happened all the time. The safe house had obviously been arranged through a friend, someone who might or might not know enough to understand how important having that full month might be.
And if they did, then they might or might not lose their nerve, and make a call to the police.
Twilight sighed, already starting to doze off again. She would call Zephyr when she woke up, get a full read on the situation. And then, she would start making preparations. Careful, unhurried preparations.
Exhausted, Twilight finally succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep.





It had taken days to get White Hat loaned from the feds and approved for what Armor had in mind. But there had never been a doubt that she was who he needed. She’d been a juvenile offender before her recruitment into the FIB, and apparently, her old alias was still talked about in hacker circles. It had taken every string he’d had, plus calling in a few favors besides, just to get the deal on the table.
But getting White Hat herself had ultimately required Armor calling the one contact he loathed most of all. He didn’t know how Glimmer had managed it, but where official channels had failed, unofficial ones had succeeded.
Meanwhile, the media had been having an absolute field day at the department’s expense. At first, he’d been able to spin the major in-city networks into covering it as a trio of deadly hoodlums massacring the innocent, but that kind of thing just didn’t last the way it used to. 
And that fucking Anon-A-Miss certainly hadn’t helped. That latest video of hers was like a fucking Internet hydra. For every copy that was taken down, two more took its place.
But none of that mattered now. All that mattered now was that White Hat was a leading expert in the field of cyber security, maybe the leading expert. One who hadn’t been out of the technological loop for three years.
And, most of all, now she was answering directly and exclusively to Armor. The first and possibly most vital member of a new task force, designed for only one purpose.
To take down the Rainbooms, starting first and foremost with Twilight Sparkle.
The monitor room was small and undecorated, with painted concrete brick walls and an unfinished, cracked grey floor. There were a variety of monitors and several chairs, with White Hat sitting in one while Armor stood behind her, showing her video after video, giving background information as he did.
“This is… amazing,” the hacker marveled as she watched the traffic footage. “The cars were never supposed to be able to do this.”
“I’m glad you’re impressed,” Commissioner Armor said dryly.
“No, you don’t understand,” the young woman insisted, half-turning to face him. “This is like when Bad Canine created the first Willy the Wombat game! If anything, this is even more extraordinary! The degree of innovation, to make the hardware do this—”
“Well, she does hold the patent.”
White Hat stared. 
“Yes,” her superior said to the ceiling. “She’s that Twilight Sparkle. The one who generated over fifty patents while she was still in high school. Including half the technology in our smart cars, the police drones that never saw her or her accomplices, and the security technology used in most of our secure buildings and airports. Also including, incidentally, the facial recognition software that’s still used in most of the world today. She based a camera drone off that software when she was a high school senior, sophisticated enough to detect selfie opportunities. Needless to say, that software also has yet to locate her or her accomplices.
“So, yes. She’s a technological genius. In your circles, I imagine she may even be a legend.” 
Then, his face hardening, he went on, “She’s also the same Twilight Sparkle who is partially responsible for a gang war that almost tore this city apart before her hospitalization, and for the escape of three dangerous lunatics afterwards. Not to mention every cop and prison guard who died in between.”
The Commissioner leaned over the hacker’s shoulder and tapped a few keys, bringing a series of classified case files up onto the screen.
“This was only possible because she and at least two of her current accomplices also each possessed a different power that the world has rarely seen, if ever. Telekinesis, explosive powers, telekinetic shields, super speed, super strength... in their heyday, the Rainbooms had access to abilities that were absolutely deadly, and so little understood as to be indistinguishable from magic. Plus intel-gathering powers that you wouldn’t believe if I told you.”
While White Hat stared at the screen’s images, green eyes widening behind her black rimmed glasses, Commissioner Armor went on:
“The body count that can be laid at her feet, directly and indirectly, numbers easily in the hundreds. And some of them wore the uniform I and your fellow members of this task force are wearing now. She’s not like you, White Hat. She is an indiscriminate mass murderer, and she uses her skills to destroy lives.
“So, what do you want, young lady? Her autograph, or her arrest?”
White Hat looked down, long red hair falling partly over her face. “Her arrest, sir.”
“Good,” Armor nodded, patting her on the shoulder. “Because, aside from its urgency, at the end of the day this is just another investigation. And she is just another criminal. A deadly, ruthless criminal. One who is armed and dangerous regardless of circumstance.
“So, get to it, and keep at it,” the commissioner said. “From this moment forward, capturing Twilight Sparkle is the only thing that matters in your life. Whatever you need to write or create or delete to catch her, you do it. 
“I’m having a special operations room set up, just for you,” he went on. “Whatever you need, you tell me and I’ll get it for you. You need sleep? There’s a futon for you to sleep on. Hungry? I’ll have food brought in. Computer parts? I’ll have them shipped in the next day. Anything, literally anything you need.
“In the long run, we’ll need a complete overhaul of every computer defense in the city. But right now, just focus on securing our own house. Because she’ll want to infiltrate this department’s database. Even if she already has, she’ll need to again. And if we’re lucky, we’ll catch her as soon as she makes her next move.
“Because regardless of her brains and her resources, sooner or later she is going to make a mistake. And when that happens, we are going to nail her to the god-damned wall.”





The task force briefing had been that evening, and had taken over two hours. There had been depressingly few questions afterwards, with most of the attending officers looking bored, or even mildly amused. 
Armor had done his best to impress upon them the danger of their assignment. Over and over again. With footage, slides, and even personal anecdotes. But by the time the conference was over, the police assembled were in agreement on only one thing: Twilight Sparkle, Public Enemy Number One, was as good as taken down.
Watching them file out of the conference room, for the first time Shining Armor felt unsure about the situation. On the plus side, Twilight being his sister had never been mentioned. And while he’d had an answer for that, he was still glad it hadn’t come up. 
But the overall vibe from the officers as they’d filed out had reminded him uncomfortably of the space marines in the second Xenomorph movie.
Look, man. I only need to know one thing: where they are.
He shook his head as he gathered the last of his things, putting his laptop into his briefcase. He had done his best to impress upon them the seriousness of the situation. But in the end, their overconfidence would probably last until after their first encounter with the enemy. Hopefully, most of them would survive.
He took a breath. Held it. Let it go.
I’m worrying needlessly, he told himself, at least on that score. 
Over the last four days, the strike force had been meticulously selected. Each member had undergone background checks worthy of a federal position before finally being sworn to secrecy and ultimately let in on the classified nature of their prey. They were all competent, all experienced, and all highly trained marksman who had seen fire fights before. They were all skilled and reliable.
And most of all, they were the good guys.
And they would see that justice was done.
His face grim, Armor turned out the lights, and left the room in darkness.





Meanwhile, the selected officers were fanning out into various hallways and stairwells throughout the department building. Being on-call 24 hours a day might suck, but having no duties outside that 24-hour call - plus full pay for the duration - more than made up the difference. Plus, they’d be taking down one of the worst criminals in USE history.
“So, this is it,” one officer grinned. “The big time.”
His friend grinned back. “I know, right? We take out one over-hyped gangsta bitch and watch the rest of her set crumble...”
“Mensa over-hyped gangsta bitch,” the first officer reminded him, finger upraised. Then, imitating Commissioner Armor, he added, “Remember, officer Ilium Steed, you must understand your enemy.”
“And that the stakes are much higher with this particular offender than you may realize, Officer Blue Steel,” the second one rejoined, also imitating.
They both laughed.
“One Mensa bitch later, and we’re super cops.” Blue Steel grinned. “I think we’re finally arrived.”
“I know, right?” Ilium Steed rejoined. “I mean, picture this on your resume, you know?”
Blue stopped, and Ilium did as well, looking at his friend quizzically.
“What?” he asked.
“I dunno, maybe it was just me, but... did it seem to you that the commish was kinda... soft on this gal?”
“Fuck, Blue, I dunno... maybe? I mean, Armor’s always been kind of a softie, that’s why we love him.”
“Yeah,” Blue agreed. “I mean, he may be a milksop, but he’s our milksop.”
“Right,” Ilium nodded. “So I figure, what the hell, we can make up the difference.”
The two of them started walking again.
“You know, maybe that’s why he’s not taking her on himself,” Ilium suggested.
“’Cuz he knows it takes a killer to stop a killer?”
“Exactly. Hell, that’s probably why he gave us a file on...”
Ilium paused, hefting the several inches thick brown envelope.
“...everything in her life’s history, I guess?” he finished. “I mean, the fuck? He can’t really expect us to read this.”
“Well, this is the commish we’re talking about,” Blue Steel reminded him with an eyeroll. “He’s probably got regulations for zipping his fly. But me, I already know how to do my job, thanks. All I needed to hear was ‘cop killer.’ And push comes to shove, magic tricks and a 4.0 GPA don’t do shit against high-velocity rounds.”
“Amen, brother,” Ilium agreed, and they bumped fists as they opened the side doors together, entering the parking lot outside.
“So, you want to swing by for dinner?” Blue asked. “Shigoto’s making chicken.”
Ilium made a show of being tempted, then sighed. “Nah, I think I’ll just crash.”
Blue gave him a grin. “Uh-huh. And does this seductive beauty have a name?”
“No, it’s not... you know what, never mind,” Ilium said, blushing slightly.
“Sure thing, pal. Just so you know, though... we’re rooting for ya.”
Ilium looked skyward. Whether he was praying for strength in times of such adversity, or just hoping a comet would fall and crush them both, Blue Steel couldn’t be sure.
Blue Steel laughed again and started for his car, fishing out his keys as he did.
“Talk to you tomorrow!” he called.
Ilium waved and entered his own vehicle, tossing the file into the seat beside him. A few minutes later, he was on the highway. Then, and only then, did he dig out his phone, hitting six on autodial.
The phone rang an uncomfortably long time. Finally, it picked up.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “What the fuck, man, you on a break?”
Another pause.
“No, listen. No, seriously, just shut up and listen. I just found out everything. No, not that... that chick who’s been on the news. The escapee. Yeah, her. I got who she is, what she can do, friends, relatives... everything.”
Another pause, and Ilium laughed.
“What, and have you cut me out? Huh-uh, I don’t need to tell you shit. Get the Boss on the phone. Patch me through. 
“Yeah, I’m serious, put ‘em on.” 
There was a pause while the officer glanced at the fat envelope on the seat beside him.
“Yeah, actually, you really fucking should. In fact, this might call for a face to face. ‘Cuz what I’ve got, the Boss is definitely going to want.”