> Super Pony Roomies Season 2
>  by TheManehattanite
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Meet Johnny
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I…am the Watcher. 

Since time out of mind, it has been my task to observe, to see all, and know perhaps even more. For mine is the vigil of infinity, where dwell the stories of stars and the secrets of suns, known to no witness, except, of course, I. This is my gift. This is my curse. Armed only with my trusty toga, I watch those wh-who watch the wh-ha-ahaha! Oh man! Oh. Could not keep that up! 

Whoo. 

Yeah, no, I hear ya. Just havin’ some fun before we roll. 

They still do outtakes? Alright. Nah, go ahead. I mean, I signed everything before I came in here, right? What am I, Spider-Pony?

Yeah, that’d be nice, thanks. Tea? Coffee makes me twitchy. So! You guys ever record with anypony famous in here? Really! Didn’t think Princess Celestia was into that. What a world. 

Ah, thank you…? Candy. Thank you, Candy! 

siiip 

Ah, a certain Neighponese blend! A mare of distinction! Must be those enchanting eyes of yours. Speaking of, since the weekend’s coming up could you see any possibility of enjoying some more blends at this little place on…mmm? 

Red light. Okay. Alas, fair Candy! To be continued! 

Hoookay, take 2! 

On your mark. 


1


Hey there, party ponies! Tropical Johnnycake Storm here! My friends call me Johnny and, while I may not pack a laser necklace, I do like to make friends. And maybe more than that!~ 

No, it’s totally fine that you haven’t heard of me and my astounding levels of humility. Perhaps you’ve heard of me through my philanthropic works, or, just maybe, the one or two…billion times I’ve saved Equestria, if not the earth itself, as the High flying Horseshoe Torch? 

That’s okay, you’re a busy pony, you can’t be expected to keep up with every hero in Manehattan! And if you can bare to look past my engineering cutie mark, and that oh so distinctive ring of fire a certain airship accident tagged onto it, you’ll find one of my many special talents is making an impression! 

Won’t waste your time going all the way back to the beginning. Why, we just met! A gentlecolt doesn’t open with his cutie marks story! But to know me is to understand that I was the sort of kid who snuck into a private airfield before he snuck into his dates’ rooms for “extracurricular studies.”

Allegedly snuck in. Not to question the integrity of Mrs. Quelle Surprise of Greendale Long Island, but that could’ve been anypony with great hair diving out Nuit Blanche’s window that night. 

I definitely snuck into the airfield, though, and its little experimental airship too. 

Well, not so little as much as streamlined, and the genius who built it’s only gotten its babies even sleeker since. With a little help from yours truly, naturally! River Reeds and I have spent years making quite the team, on the field or outside the hull of a state-of-the-art ship, smoothing out it’s bugs. Usually while it’s moving. 

At the time though, I just wanted to make sure Sue wasn’t dating Grim Skies. 

That’s my beloved big sister, Sand Sousaphone Storm, of course. No, it’s okay, I never get tired of explaining these things. Our names are a neat case of Equestrian traditionalism and cross-breed marriage compromise! Mom wanted us to have strong, elemental names, honouring our Pegasus heritage. Dad was fine with that, provided we also stuck with the Earth Pony middle naming tradition. In case evil sorcerers ever tried to take control of us through the old magic trick of binding you by your pony name, you see. He was, ah, of his time, even though that sort of thing didn’t even really go on in the middle ages. 

Too long, didn’t read: yeah, technically we’re Sand and Tropical Storm, but were christened with names of sentimental value to our folks in the middle. Sue got the musical instrument, ‘cause grandma Storm was a travelling oboist who had a brief run with the Fillyharmonic and Mom was hoping on a legacy. I got stuck with Dad’s love of Breyhamian desserts. It was probably my colour scheme that did it.

Johnny’s a little easier to say when you’re learning to talk, and Sue hates “Sandy” like Rainbow Dash hates jazz flutes, so she’s been Sue ever since. 

Yeah, that Rainbow Dash. Best Young Flyer, Element of Loyalty, Telling-the-Truth-About-the-Sonic-Rainboom-All-Along-Rainbow-Dash. It’s a—pause for effect—long story. I’ll get back to it. Just real quick, whatever she tells you, the jazz flute thing is not my fault. 


***

Meanwhile, back at the Why Would We Keep This a Secret origin, praise Celestia, sis isn’t dating that block head pilot who’s always hanging around her office! They really are just friends! I mean, she coulda chosen better, but thank Sun and Moon that’s all!

This’d be my good buddy Grim Skies, AKA (and I’m only saying this because I’m contractually obligated to) the Ever Lovin’ Blue Eyed Thing, Idol o’ Millions. Like the rest of us aren’t, but anyway. Back in the day, and I’ll confess to maybe exaggerating here, I thought his name was “From the Wonderbolts. Y’know, those Wonderbolts. Do you know ‘em? I do. The Wonderbolts. ‘Cause I was in the Wonderbolts.”

He was in the Wonderbolts, don’tcha know. 

And for the record, I make fun of the big dope because the both of us were there when what happened happened. I get what it cost him. And beyond the fact we’ve been through so much together I earned it? Beyond even that joking like this is treating him like a person? You weren’t there. We were. Go get high and mighty with somepony else. 

To give old brick-a-brac face his due, his time in the ‘bolts meant he was probably the best navigator and pilot to take the Excelsior up, and thank the Great Pony in the Sky, Sue was more into brown eyes than blue. That’d be the Excelsior’s creator, Dr. River Reeds, multiple PhD’s in magic and science, though apparently they’re the same thing. Makes about as much sense as anything else the guy says. 

Yeah, I respect Reed just fine. Guy couldn’t give grooming tips to save his life, which I think is 30% of the reason he and Sue are into each other, but if you’re looking for a pick me up I can recommend having one of Equestria’s premier explorative researchers compliment you on your derby engineering. 

Only reason he hesitated to take me in on designing the first Fantasti-Chariot was the sort of thing I might get up to with anti-grav magi-tech. He needn’t have worried: why settle for that when I could fly?

Then again, maybe he was worried I’d stowaway in it somehow, like I did with the Excelsior. 

Still dunno why I did it. Astrology wasn’t my thing in school at the time (also not a Unicorn, so) but a once in a lifetime thinning of the magical barriers in the atmosphere sounded pretty ‘yikes!’, and Sue was all the family I had. Maybe I was still trying to figure out Reed. Maybe I wanted to get caught so I could keep getting under Grim’s skin. 

Maybe silver fox of the future Johnnycake was sending a subliminal message backwards through time to urge me on board, so we’d save the future. (That one happens more than you’d think.) 

Hay, maybe it was that the Excelsior just looked so freaking cool. Who knows? 

Some ponies ask me why it’s the Horseshoe Torch. While I do have a distinctive, charismatic glow around the hooves when I’m flamed on (and even when I’m not!) that’s not it. If you wanna make sure you’re never on my Hearth's Warming card list, no, it’s got nothing to do with the android Horsepower Torch of the so-called Golden Age. The old man and I have our differences, and our obligatory begrudging respect, but like I’d settle for being the mark-2 of somepony else. 

It’s because we got hit by For Real cosmic rays, crashed, and lived. I walked out of flaming wreckage with nothing but a faint ringing in my ears, and the flame walked out with me. Just a few years after my first kiss I became one of the four ponies who’d define what an explorer, what a superhero, meant in Equestria. 

What am I if not lucky? 

Most of the time. 

At least I’m not Spider-Pony but, like that weirdo the state department keeps fixing up with my pal the Panther Prince, I’m getting ahead of myself. Put a pin in my other pal, right between the eyes for preference, and we’ll come back to him later. 


***

Not to make it sound like being one of the Fantastic Family was a drag. If anything, the only reason those early years weren’t the best of my life is that I try and get the most out of every year of my life. What’s the point of saving the world if you don’t enjoy living in it?!

Like I told a certain princess a few months back, even after I saw…whatever it was I saw when we stopped Galactarus from devouring the world, (our other pal the Watcher led me through a hole in reality to find the one thing old overbite’s afraid of and my brain erased the actual events of the experience to keep my sanity. Y’know, as you do) the only real takeaway is that if nothing matters then everything does. Some fortune cookie saying like that. Hay, for that little act of SAVING EVERYTHING WE KNOW AND LOVE her mentor gave us our first ever medals! I hadn’t even graduated yet! 

Seriously, this was only our first year. The FF have been doing this for a decade. A giant centaur who eats planets isn’t even one of the weirdest, awesome things we’ve seen since then!

A couple of years after this is when things start to get…personal. Not bad, but personal. But I trust you. They might not be as crystalline as mine, but you’ve got kind eyes and a wonderful smile. 

Huh. Crystalline. Tell-tale slip. 



***

Her name was Crystal. She’s the youngest princess of the Unknowns, an obviously secret breed of equine life created by the Kree, one of the few extra-terrestrial races to consistently pierce the magic in the atmosphere. But I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was there was this girl. 

It’s the same old story. Boy is having daring adventures with the fam. Boy and fam get wrapped up in crazy shenanigans. Boy meets girl. Girl can not only do what boy does, but everything else. As in, every other element. As in, she’s not only the most amazing person Boy’s ever met, she’s…maybe one of the few in the world who understand what it's like to have to be this young and carry the knowledge of what you could do to other people if you don’t keep yourself in check. 

Girl not only has to keep herself in check but must live by the paranoid rules of her society, because mere Equestrians must still be a cowardly and superstitious lot, despite the fact this is Manehattan where zebras and some of the smaller sized dragons live. Then again I just live in the city my family protects, I don’t have to do Black Bolt’s job and rule it. 

And the Hex-Ponies have been risking their tails for a world that still hates and fears Exquestrians for almost as long as we have. Maybe I’d be one of those idiots who sends misspelled petitions to the Alicorn who runs the nation if I couldn’t do weird stuff, too. I’d like to think not, but hey, there but for the grace of cosmic rays. 

I was so busy falling in love with Crystal on the spot, our eyes locking when I wasn’t admiring that awesome antenna marking on her head, sort of their version of a cutie mark, that I took a piece of rubble to the head. Maybe that’s what true love’s supposed to feel like, I dunno. But I woke up in the fancy flying city of Attilan, with her watching over me. 

We got to talking without having to raise our voices over energy blasts, and the rest…should have been history. 

But Crystal was…is a princess. Saviour and leader to her people. Nigh invulnerable as he is,  Black Bolt needs somepony to step up to the throne someday. And fun in a half theme park, half monastery way as it is, Attalian’s going to need somepony with the vision to see what the outside world has to offer. And not just bring it back, but make the Unknowns a part of it. And she’s got her work cut out for her, because, other than her dog and her cousin Triton, her family’s a bunch of traditionalist pills. 

The real tragedy? The only reason I was the one who broke us up was because I was terrified she’d do it first. 

I’ve taken punches from Hulks. They’re not even in the same solar system as that decision. 

But pain is apparently gain and I can’t be burned, so maybe the universe was trying to tell me something? But again, getting ahead of myself. 



***

Post-Crystal is hard to think about, because I don’t especially wanna, but it wasn’t all bad. After those existentialist movies she’d bought and left behind stopped meaning anything to me, thank the Great Pony, I got back in the blazing saddle. I like to think I nailed like 97% of it. I started dating again, which is probably where Johnnycake the Playboy comes from.

Straight up, I apologise for almost nothing but concede that, yeah, didn’t do myself a lot of favours. Particularly with the girl I was partnered up with when I had to go to Cloudsdale to get my highly specialised flyers licence renewed, who recently put a lot of how I come off into perspective. Because despite everything good we did for each other, I inadvertently crumpled her confidence and heart like a used soda can. 

Yep. Theeere’s Rainbow Dash. 

Dash, or Dannii as she allowed me to call her, though she’s forbidden it since, wasn’t my first post-Crystal relationship but she was the first to be able to tag along on adventures, which was where a lot of the fun came from! Just, y’know, weird sky adventures. Ghosts haunting the campus museum, A.I.M. trying to steal the weather factory, somepony’s messing with the gravity of the local buck ball field type adventures. Not FF tier ones, which is where the strain started. 

Yeah, she’s an Element of Harmony and in the business now. Yeah, she kicks even more butt now than she did then. But I’m not apologising for being the responsible one at the time, and given how much grief everypony’s given me about growing up over the years, they could also give me credit for that call. We had each other’s backs but I couldn’t guarantee anything. If anything had happened to her then maybe there wouldn’t have been an Element of Loyalty to stop Nightmare Moon, and save Princess Luna. 

For the record, not that the FF and the rest of the business couldn’t take high end mystic stuff like that, it’s just that Harmony is kinda its own thing, and it’d take us waaaay longer than Twilight, Applejack and the others. Maybe too much longer to guarantee we wouldn’t all be freezing to death or drowning in chocolate milk by now. Stars knows we weren’t ready for that thing with the centaur. But, yet again, getting ahead of myself. 

That’s what we call it, by the way. Other heroes, or people with powers who think they’re too good for costumes, and that biker jackets aren’t basically the same thing. The business. Because after a while it starts to feel like a job. 

And in my case, it is! Once I turned 18, I could claim not only a decent chunk of my own merchandising rights (shame that mane and tail line never took off. We never did find out why it caught fire when exposed to direct sunlight. Or oxygen. It wasn’t supposed to!), but a nice juicy paycheck for serving on explorative research expeditions as part of Fantastic Incorporated! 

Selling out? Bite your tongue! Like you wouldn’t get paid for making spontaneous combustion look this good! You want a sell out? Ask how Spider-Pony used to make a living. The answer’s delightful! 

Ah, I should probably make a start on the ol’ Web Head since he keeps popping up so much. He’s the ‘s’ in ‘Roomies’! 



***

Peter Trotter is the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Pony, (shhhh, it’s a secret!) and one of the best friends I have in the business. I know, I’m surprised too. Ironically, for two of the ten years the FF’s been making him look like a How Not to Hero guide, we practically hated each other! Or I assumed he did me. It’s that mask, it’s hard to tell. Dunno how he added the moving eyes, but you would not believe the difference they make. Actually getting to know him helps too. 

For most of those early days, Spidey was just this weirdo who broke into our living room and beat us up so we’d offer him a spot on the team, then wouldn’t stop showing up. No, seriously. “I can beat you up.” That was his pitch.  80% sure he got the idea out of a comic book. Ugh, he still reads comic books in the 21st reign of Celestia, how are we friends? 

Because, like Crystal, Spidey—…Pete is somepony who knows. There’s a world of difference between what we can do and how we do it, but one of those Trotter family soliloquies is that with Great Power there must also come Great Responsibility. 

I’m part of Equestria’s actual Mightiest team, and I’m still not sure what that means, or how to live up to it. I give Pete as much grief as I give anypony I care about, but the truly Spectacular thing about him is how he’s had to cope with that question on his own. 

Also, turns out when he’s out of costume he’s even more of an adorable widdle doofus. Yes,he is! Yes, he iiiis! 

The adorable widdle doofus who lives with me now, but he’s had his time in the sun. New topic! Know who he’s dating? Twilight Sparkle. Yeah, that Twilight Sparkle. And does he have the sense to come to me for Princess dating advice? Of course not. 

Then again, maybe the smart move. Not like I could hold onto mine, but it’s our old friend Getting Ahead of Yourself, Johnny. 



***

Actually, since my dating life is so much a part of this? (As it should be, if there was an Element of Romance, I would be it.) Let’s backtrack a little. A big part of what does not help with the image of me as some kind of Prince Blueblood (who’s the FF’s landlord, because something Grim did in a previous life makes the Great Pony hate us) is how many of my romances turned out to be a Skrull invasion plot. 

What’s a Skrull, you ask because you’re an interesting person and have a life. Skrulls, I regret to inform you, are what the E.U.P dossiers we get in the mail refer to as “a race of extra-terrestrial shapeshifters.” I prefer a pain in the tail and the answer to the question nopony asked: what if Changelings were lizards and also lamer. 

Sun and Moon but I miss Queen Chrysalis. Now there was a nemesis. Can you believe the Elements just snatched her away from m--us like that? I’d have been willing to share with Princess Cadence at least! Gah, where’s that tea? 

Be right back, heating it up. 

siiiiip

…thaaaat’s the stuff. Where was I? Skrulls! The one specifically. Lyja the Laser Lasher. 

Lyja. Freaking. Lyja. 

Lyja, Skrullian for “The absolute worst”, is one of several covert teams the Skrulls slip through the atmosphere, along with their bitter rivals the Kree, (small galaxy, right?) to try and conquer the planet. The reason there’s no Independence Day or Mars Attacks style invasions is because the magic in the atmosphere doesn’t just mess with light, which is why there’s Sun and Moon avatars to move them like Princesses Celestia and Luna, but also big honking space fleets. 

Reed thinks it’s some sort of planetary defence mechanism, but that’s Magic Necklaces from a Crystal Tree turf, and I have a life. 

Point is, if you’ve ever wondered why these seemingly advanced space races only send down jerks like the Super Skrull or Ronan the Accuser and maybe, like, twenty grunts, it’s because anything bigger than that shorts out and gets stuck drifting uselessly in low orbit. If they’re lucky. 

So, rather than do the smart thing and go give the Guardians of the Galaxy something to do, the Skrulls take advantage of slipping itty bitty pods of agents through the barrier, hoping to take out the greatest threats and replace enough governments with their puppets that they can annex Earth without breaking galactic treaty. 

So the Skrull and the Kree, besides going to war with each other all the time anyway, have this little thing going to try and score the magic planet. Because of all the magic. The magic that prevents them from doing this. I know, right? Funny thing is, Lyja agrees with me on that. 

I say funny because the idea we agree on anything after she, y’know, tried to ruin my life is a sick joke. 

Maybe it was lack of manpower, but someone had the bright idea to assign a Skrull to constantly be in my life because I went out the most. And every time I met a mare I really clicked with and it didn’t work out, hey, there’d be another one! And I was too busy running on post Crystal “I’m fine Sue, [insert Lyja’s cover name here] gets me!” to notice how perfect they’d be for me. Or how super villains would show up in places they shouldn’t or how stuff would go missing. 

And then one day this Super Skrull I was fighting said something only the date I’d had last night would know. 

Fun fact about being the resident hothead. Cold fury burns brightest. 

Or it used to. Recently, Lyja made the mistake of coming back into my life. She’s been a background pain in the tail for the last few months since Pete and I moved in together, almost always around the corner with a trap right out of those Roadrunner cartoons. That’s...not the woman who infiltrated my life and wrapped me around her hoof. I’m good, but, and this kills me, Lyja’s a match for me. 

In a fight. Get your head out of the gutter. 

So if she’s so determined to capture me, why am I still waking up in 616B Yancy street, not recovering consciousness on the floor of a Tarnax holding cell with an inhibitor collar around my neck? And I’d make it as close to impossible for her as I could, but if anypony could do that, it’d be Lyja. 

She said something on that Canterlot case. We captured her by mistake, looking for a Skrull going after Prince Blueblood. She didn’t want them to ice me. I’m her meal ticket, apparently. Like, that exact wording. Is it an ego thing? 

Guh. Don’t wanna talk about her anymore. This was supposed to be about Twilight Sparkle anyway! Maybe it’s that they both shoot purple lasers? Meh. 


***

Princess Twilight’s been good for my new roomie! “New”. We’ve been sharing rent for months. And a couple years before that he wouldn’t stop talking about her, and this was before she was a princess! Poor dope didn’t even realise he was falling for her until I pointed it out. They’re both welcome.  

Haven’t know Twilight, who graciously insists on being on a first name basis, all that long but she’s done me two solids so far. The most recent was a conversation in the sewers under Attlian, because my life’s great like that. The first was coming into my life through Pete, and so bringing Rainbow Dash back into it (I’ll get to how that’s a plus in a bit) and introducing me to one of the best friends I’ll ever have. 

Rarity Palladium Belle, Element of generosity and Equestria’s latest up and coming designer. Just Rarity, because she is the embodiment of elegance in simplicity. And man, if you’ve ever seen her in a society do, her real element, then you know Rarity is anything but simple. She’s like the anti-Lyja, which makes me worry I might have A Type™. 

Rarity and I hit it off like a stylish planetary collision. Why have we not created a dynasty that manipulates Celestia’s world from the shadows yet? Because we’re not dating. Not that our last one went bad, which is surprising because Lyja and the Trapster showed up, but we got to talking and, well, on her end at least it was way more fun to talk. 

She’s also worried I have no friends. Or, rather, that I don’t have any friends who aren’t in the business. The Elements exist in some weird niche and while I wouldn’t use the world normal, there’s a nice kinda…casualness there. I think that’s why Pete spends weekends in Ponyville so much. That and even he’s not enough of a schmuck to let Twilight out of his life for too long. 

Anyway. Settling for being just friends with Rarity was the best decision I ever made. She’s right, I can’t imagine a worthwhile event of any season without her. The second was listening to Dash. Actually listening. 



***

See, now I wouldn’t risk Rarity’s friendship for anything. Dunno that I agree with her take that I need some kind of tether back to the “normal” world. I was roommates with Soarin Skies (in the Wonderbolts, but no relation) and now I’m roommates with the supposed Everypony Hero. But she keeps me out of my head, and my hooves under me. 

And because my big plan to get with Crystal went nowhere, naturally I almost threw it all away by asking her to try to be more than friends. 

Or would have if Rainbow Dash hadn’t been waiting outside her store that night. Thank the Great Pony for Rainbow Dash. 

Not the lecture or the name calling, but under all that was somepony looking out for her friend. Rarity if not me, and I think that talk…didn’t fix things, but at least she’s ribbing me instead of growling at me. 

Seriously, filly does a wicked good timberowlf impression. 

Dash’s point, beyond me being wrong about everything and everything that is wrong with everything, was that I keep making the same mistake with women. I fell in love with Crystal when I was, what, 17, and then had to break all that off. I wasn’t over her until that failed kiss in Attilan, and to tell the truth I’m still really not. So, Dash argued, doesn’t that make every girl since the rebound girl by definition? 

Like, say, her. 

And I wanted to do that to Rarity? 

No. 

Also, I get she had to think about this for a while, but would it have killed her to tell me she felt used like that at the time instead of, y’know, yelling she was never going to speak to me again?! Aaaand now she is, because I need a friend who’ll make sure I’m just friends with Rarity. That makes sense, right? 


***

Which brings us to now. Still the Horseshoe Torch. Still having an absolute blast. Still roommates with the Spectacular Spider-Pony. Still the definition of an Equestrian hero! 

Still just friends with Rarity. Still on sturdier but thin ice with Rainbow Dash. Still not with maybe the only pony I’ll ever really love. 

And Lyja’s still out there. 

Oi. 

Y’know what started this whole Gonna Be My Own Pony thing that led to me and Pete getting the Yancy Street place? I beat Fin Fang Foom the Space Dragon, by burning all the oxygen out of his lungs and knocking him out. Figured if I could pull that off then how hard could growing up really be? 

Well, strap yourselves in, True Believers, because all that you just saw? All that happened and we’re not even in second gear yet! 

Try and keep up. I dare ya! 

siiiip


To be Continued

> Meet Peter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Are we rolling? 

You’ll let me know when we’re rolling, right? 

Water? Oh, I, ah, brought my own! Hope that’s okay? 

Cool. 

Hegh-hegh-hem-hem-hmmm!

My name is…wha—? Sorry? Oh, on the red light! Sorry! 

My name is, blah blah blah, one and only, blah blah blah…ugh, this is such a Johnny thing. 

Hmm? Oh! Okay…


1


My name is Peter Gleann Trotter! I was bitten in the cutie mark by a radioactive spider, and for the past nine years I’ve been Equestria’s one and only Spider-Pony! 

Well, the one most ponies know about. 

It’s not as simple as I’m making it sound. In fact, the only reason I can consider my life a work in progress right now is because I’ve actually started making some kind of progress in the last couple of those nine years. 

Man. Next Summer Sun Celebration, I’m going to have been doing this for ten years. 

For most of that time I was;
A) a lovable freelance shutterbug, occasionally earning a liveable commission for the Derby Bugle, the Manehattan newspaper dedicated to raising awareness of the issues facing Equestria…whether Equestria wants it or not, 
and, 
B) desperately alone.

Well, okay, proportionate exaggeration of a spider. My social circle’s actually improved dramatically by letting ponies in on the secret. Aunt May’s always been there, and Gem Stone and Merry Jane have been through so many Osthorn conspiracies with me it’s impossible for us not to be friends. Just friends, but it means a lot. Even Fera, ah, the Black Sphinx is still willing to speak to me, which would be nicer if she didn’t keep joking(?) about stealing the crown jewels just to see if she could. 

Man, not to jinx it but romantically, professionally, and even spider…ing…ly? I’ve been thwipin’ it out of the park lately! 

…that sounded disgusting, didn’t it? Sorry. Sun and Moon, so sorry. Most of my actually good material only comes out when award winning thaumaturgical physicists are trying to crush my skull with octopus arms. 

Crystal enhanced octopus arms, now. Every upswing comes with a downside. 

But…yeah? Life’s been good! Not any of the adjectives we in the business throw around a little too much, just good. For starters? I met somepony a while back and she saved me without even really knowing it. 


***

Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia’s faithful student, Element of Magic and leader of the rest (when Equestria’s on the line, anyway), and one of the most amazing ponies I’ve ever met. 

Also, yeah, Princess of Friendship, but she wasn’t when we met! I just jumped through the portal she conjured out of the love we share with each other, allowing us to visit without running up a huge Equestrian Express tab, and she had wings one day! 

And I’d just gotten use to the portal, too. 

We both got used to the wings a lot quicker than people who know us would give us credit for. Physically, if not what they, and the crown Twilight’s sometimes obligated to wear now, mean somewhere down the line, but in our defence she could still be just a common or garden Equestrian Unicorn and we’d still be worrying about Where Are We Going. 

I’ve had far worse relationship problems, (seriously, Fera makes that “joke” way too much. Saw her wearing Princess Platinum’s cape one time. Nightmare Night costume my sweet, bushy tail) and none of those got me plus one tickets to state functions, so. 

And trust me, True Believers, there’s nothing common or garden about Twilight Sparkle. 

If you’d asked me a couple years back if Equestria could possibly contain another heart as big and welcoming as Aunt May’s, I’d have said something glib, probably recommended you head out south and try to find a dragon’s den. 

Ah, wait, no, Spike said they’re somewhere in the Badlands these days, aren’t they? Huh. 

Twilight is best pony, is the point. 

Yeah, I’m biased. No, I like Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy just fine! It’s just if you wanna fight about it I will, and I’ll win. Did you ever beat up Firelord? 

No, no, the herald of Galactarus, not the Fire Nation guy! Although funny story…uh, for another time. 



***

My life is full of “funny” stories. That’s part of why what Twilight and I have means so much. That she and her friends…are and aren’t in the business. 

That’s what we call it, by the way. Super-heroism, adventuring, buccaneering, whatever you wanna call anything involving swinging on lines and matching one-liners with sociopaths. The business. 

Because after a while it starts to feel like a job. 

Great Pony in the Sky, does it feel like a job. 

Sad thing is? A lot of people in the same line as me do, in fact, get paid for it. Even the Elements have stipends to cover travel expenses! 

Sometimes I think the reason we don’t call it the life is because some of us are just desperately pretending it doesn’t define us. Listen, living in one of the most expensive and super-crime prone cities in Equestria is no picnic, but at least it feels like that’s the stuff you’re…I’m supposed to be living with! If my life came down to just the suit and the webs, then that’s all I’d be. 

And that scares me. 

The Elements of Harmony, despite standing and fighting for more than I ever will, just flat out don’t have this problem. Plenty of their own when they aren’t, oh, y’know, restoring the fabric of reality, or driving back legendary evils that make Princess For Real Celestia herself break out in a cold sweat. But they get their scroll, they mount up, glow with this light some of the finest minds in Equestria, Twilight included, (and simultaneously exempt?) don’t understand, and go back to them. They go home. Isn’t that kinda what every little pony wants, deep down? 

Sometimes I worry I freak them out, beyond just my usual social fumbling, which to be fair MJ helped me with years ago. Like maybe I’m coming across as just way too into the little town of Ponyville, helping fix Applejack’s equipment, or carrying fabrics for Rarity, or helping Fluttershy out…which I can’t always do, since some of her animals freak out around me, probably because radioactive spider blood. 

Maybe it’s just being the boyfriend. I’d kill to be just the boyfriend. But I’m not. I’m a radioactive freak with a guilt complex. 

When you spend your time feeling like you’re two people, and both add up to one neurotic underachiever, that kind of balance the Elements have, it’s…it’s good to see. An acceptance and a possibility you’re almost too deep in your own trench to see. 

It’s not that I think of Peter and Spidey as different parts of myself. When I mention Spider-Pony in the third person I’m referring to the concept, the responsibility, not some kind of weird, tiny spider-mutant sitting in my head working the controls…which would be a nice excuse for my constant screw ups in and out of costume, but sadly I’m stuck with…myself. 

And Twilight and her friends have welcomed me into their lives, and made me feel like a whole person. Even after dealing with the pressure of dating the second modern Equestrian princess in a generation, and confessing my original sin to Twilight, the reason that I’ll maybe never be able to stop doing this, she accepted me. 

And she’s still worried she’s not worthy of Celestia’s kindness, or those wings. 

One day I’m gonna find a way to repay them all for that acceptance. One day. 


***

So, that’s romantically! Professionally? Guess who’s sort of got a real job and making sort of money now! Peter Trotter, friendly neighbourhood Damage Control site consultant, at your service! 

Months ago the Basilisk, one of my regular dance partners, reminded Equestria he’s always had the engineering talent to build a flight suit capable of lifting even that chip on his shoulder. His scheme du jour? Building his own version of the Destroyer, your Asgardian uru pal who’s no fun to be with. 

Why is Manehattan still above sea level? Because of some quick thinking on the part of yours truly, backed up by the not inconsiderable skills of the Fantastic Family, the Wonderbolts and Princess Luna herself, what else? Shame I didn’t take Basi’s toy down before it took out my apartment, though. 

But Pete! Isn’t this supposed to be the happy part of your story? Yeah! They do say when the Great Pony in the Sky closes a door, she opens a window. And since Damage Control had to pick up what was left of my doors and windows, company owner Ms. Amazing Grace offered me the Basilisk’s recently vacated position at the company! 

She got wind I’d had a hoof in the gizmo that put the brakes on the Destroyer, but I’m still not entirely sure that’s it. Maybe she just felt sorry for me, but if you’ve ever met her you know that’s not it either. She certainly never misses an opportunity to remind me to make good on the faith the offer was made in. 

Which I like to think I would, even if she wasn’t signing my paycheques now. Also: I get paycheques now! A decent retainer, plus pay by the hour whenever I’ve got to put my degree in thaumaturgical physics (backed up by nine years of experience with weird science and how it breaks things) to use helping actual construction creatures figure out if it’s safe to enter the holes in a building, and what’s making them glow when they aren’t safe. 

This is Manehattan, so, while I can’t purchase my own tropical island, work’s consistent enough I can make rent, pay for lunch without worrying about where my next meal’s gonna come from, and even have some walking around bits jingling in my saddlebag left over! Seriously, the word ‘pension’ is now vaguely part of my life! Whaaaat?! 

Along with a nice care package (including dental!), the new gig comes with the added bonus of helping me keep a discreet eye on what the bad guys might be up to from what kind of magic or tech we pull out of the rubble, or if somepony else in the business needs help. 

When your Friendly Neighbourhood You Know Who isn’t living on the edge, fighting crime and spinning webs, he’s enjoying the peace of mind that he can clean up the mess he’s partly responsible for, and let people who had the good sense not to get bitten in the destiny enjoy a warm night with their repaired roof over their head. If ol’ Ferocious Flattop only knew! 

…ahem. Speaking of everypony’s favourite irascible publisher, it may not surprise you to know we didn’t part on the best of terms. 


***

Maybe it’s Gotland syndrome. You’ve gotta understand, butting heads with Flattop was almost as much of my life as my cutie mark. Blather, rinse, repeat. Imagine if you’d spent every year since junior high listening to an airship death diving towards you, blaring demands for pictures of Spider-Pony and getting louder at the very notion of an advance, and then one day, right before impact, you blinked and it…just wasn’t there anymore. 

It wasn’t just jumping from The Bugle to Damage Control, either. In fact, last time I saw the old miser I was glad to see the back of him! He gate-crashed Twilight’s coronation…well, actually he was invited. Not even professionally. Can you believe he and Princess Celestia are old friends? Because I can’t, and I’ve met Howard the Duck. 

Anyway, bad enough I’d spent the last year and a half neglecting to mention I was canoodling with the Element of Magic, in Ferocious’ eyes I’d (somehow) cost The Bugle an exclusive with Equestria’s newest princess. That’s what did it on my end, although it’d be lying to pretend a lot of my own issues weren’t mixed up in it. Bad enough I’d had to assassinate my own character all through school to help Aunt May keep the lights on, now he wanted me to, what, backlog all of Twilight’s friendship reports? Sneak him copies of that journal the Elements started up? Mane samples from her hairbrush? 

So yeah, I was mad at the time. But once that wore off, and knowing the old crank the way I do, I got the sneaking suspicion Ferocious might just be hurt he wasn’t as much a part of my life as I’d been of his. Or, and this is way more likely, getting mad was his way of coping with the nagging worry of what to do without all those Spidey pics. 

I didn’t help things by getting equally mad at Snappy Scoop (seriously, maybe it’s a photog thing but nopony other than Deadfoal gets under my skin like she does) and chasing her through the entire Bugle building. How bad are things between me and Flattop? The old man didn’t even care. 

Not that this has affected his work, you understand. In last week’s edition he outlined how the rise in ley line activity was clearly my fault, because guess who happened to be swinging by when that fountain started spraying fireworks? At least I’ll always have those op-eds! (Because creating El Scorpion made him step back from editing the paper to just publishing it. Not that you could tell the difference.) 

I guess I’m getting hung up on old skid mark mouth because falling out with my weird rage grandpa is the only tarnish on the silver lining to my webs recently? 


***

Not that Spider-Pony magically stopped being A Gift And A Curse, and in fact if Twilight and I have a problem it’s that she’d step in at this point to explain how curses aren’t real, then define exactly what a curse is by the standards of arcane academia, which is the kinda intellectual dance routine an “Everfree Think” scientist like me can’t stand about magic.

Seriously, you wanna talk about a never-ending battle? Try getting a Starswirl the Bearded fangirl to entertain the possibility that maybe gravity just happens, and the Vishanti have nothing to do with it, Twilight! 

We’re very happy. We like to laugh. We like to have fun. 

You wanna know what probably best sums up the balancing coin that’s my life lately? My roommate. Hope he never reads this, because I haven’t mentioned him since the start. 


***

Tropical Johnnycake Storm, the Highflying Horseshoe Torch, or just Johnny, Stop-You-Mad-Fool-,You’ll-Kill-Us-All if you’re nasty, is one of the best friends I have in the business. He can also light himself on fire, and seems to think the impressive amount of control he has over this one thing makes up for all his other impulse control issues. 

Just kidding! He doesn’t think that. Or he doesn’t care. You’ll understand if you’re ever forced to, say, know him for nine years. 

In all seriousness, if life without Ferocious Flattop is weird I don’t wanna think about life without Johnny. Or the Fantastic Family, his, well, y’know, family. It’s been a decade since they basically kickstarted the modern Equestrian Heroic Age, time’s gonna be there’s not a pony living in Manehattan who can remember what the skyline used to look like without that trademark 4 on the side of the Baxter Barn Building. 

I’ve fought with (as in both alongside and against) the FF my whole vigilante career, and twice as much with Johnny. Maybe next to being around since the beginning it’s just that we also realised the other wasn’t going away, no matter what pranks we threw at each other. Before you say that’s weird, I invite you to look at Applejack and Rainbow Dash. Not in an At Least We’re Not Those Two way, but. And at least old Flame Brain and I had the excuse of being 15 when we first met!

Because of that, oil and water as we are, we’re also probably two of the only ponies in the business who really get each other. The original Hex-Ponies were all pretty tight and have since grown up and moved on (still can’t believe Ice-Pony is an accountant. Does that seem right to you?) and everypony else either had a college degree to go with their powers or was immortal and so actually a hundred years old. Meeting somepony who tripped into the same power set as yours, sure, but somepony who knew they had power, capital P, speeding bullet, locomotive, course of mighty rivers power and still had to go to high school the next day? Rarer than gold. 

Heh. Just occurred to me. That’s something else Twilight and I have in common. 

Oh, sweet Celestia. Just occurred to me. That’s something Twilight and Johnny have in common. 

That’s what I was trying to get at before. With co-renting Johnny’s place on Yancy street. That joy/terror back and forth. Worse places to be, I guess. Although thanks to our landlord the Ever Lovin’ Blue Eyed Thing investing in the neighbourhood, creating our current digs at 616B in the process, it’s actually in great shape. Sometimes I think this is because he manoeuvred Johnny here so he and the Yancy Street Gang would keep each other busy and out of the rock formation he uses for hair these days. 

Speaking of the back and forth… 



***

Unless you’ve been living on a cave on Mars for the past couple weeks, you’ve at least heard of that thing with the centaur. Yeah, Tirek the Tyrannical is real, turns out. He and Discord double teamed all of ponykind, feeding the big guy most of the east coast and central Equestrian population’s magic. 

The super set’s relationship to the more mystical side like the Elements of Harmony isn’t all that well defined beyond two things. Pleasant chit chat whenever we happen to be in the same bars and, usually, us costumes and powers types being almost completely out of our depth when it comes to the sort of forces Harmony has to counter. 

Even without Discord and his itchy trigger finger, there probably wasn’t a lot most of us could have done. The Shy-Hulk’s the only one of us who could stand up to Tirek long term, and after that business in the Bullmuda Triangle who knows where she is. Slepnir managed to get him out of this dimension for a while but there was this flash, and he was back and Sley…wasn’t. And she still hasn’t reappeared. 

Tirek only had most of Midtown Manehattan and a couple of surrounding cities worth of power at the time, but after Slepnir? He hit Raider’s island. Which included the Stockade.  After that he went through the rest of us like Norman Osthorn goes through pumpkins. All the power and skill in Times Square that day, and the best we could come up with was dodging and trying to rush him all at once. I hear the Wonderbolt’s didn’t do much better and no offence to Shining Armor but at this scale the E.U.P. is almost never a factor. 

Where was I in the middle of all this? Writhing in a crater his hooves left behind, the radiation of the spider bite overwhelming my body without my bio-magical field to keep it in check. And I was one of the lucky ones. 

Then a rainbow happened. 



***

We’re getting back on our collective hooves, but there’s a lot of heroes out there who’re still dealing with the medical fallout of their powers and their magic being ripped apart, then stitched back together. Honestly, the only reason the city’s been so quiet lately is most of the bad guys are in just as rough shape and too busy shaking it off to take advantage of the damage done to the Stockade. Damage Control’s been working overtime, so I also have to deal with the slight guilt of how well most of Midtown being in pieces worked out for me. 

Could use the extra cash, though. That dirtbag blew up Twilight’s house, and while this crystal tree the girls’ Harmony stuff apparently comes from compensated her…somehow (Hate. Magic. Hate. It.) with a For Real castle, she’s still hurting. The Golden Oaks was the symbol of everything about her new life, and Tirek just…man. 

Anyway, my overtime bonus came in handy because blowing the library up also meant there was a magical backdraft through the portal, though Johnny's and my place is fine. We just had to rearrange some shelves and get the floors redone. Eventually. You’ve no idea the panic of that ride over to Ponyville, seeing that stump and the relief of finding Twilight, Spike and everypony singing outside that castle. 

Back and forth. My girlfriend’s house got blown up and all she got was this stupid castle. Hot and cold running water included. 

And a bunch of borderline superhero features I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with, like a magic map. So naturally after hugs and thank suns your alives, the dang thing goes off and summons the girls to the middle of nowhere, where they run into somepony stealing cutie marks. I didn’t even know you could do that! 

After that though, and Aunt May’s recovery from her own draining, Twilight suggested a vacation. Back and forth. Of course I’m happy to take off with her, May and Spike to San Navarra for a week, and of course I feel guilty because I clocked she’s really using this to avoid the new place. Which Applejack and the others fix the following week, meaning my Twilight Time is now back to whenever we can, and naturally I feel conflicted about that and guilty about feeling conflicted. 


***

Nine years of web-slinging and what have I got to show for it? A bunch of scar tissue, a lifetime’s supply of neurosis and guilt, but a new partner in life and love, a new gig I’m actually proud of and new digs with an old friend. Sometimes back and forth isn’t so bad. And I dunno about you True Believers, but this little Spider-Pony’s decided to focus on swinging forward for once. 

Maybe I’ll see ya there! 


To be Continued


I think that went well! 

How, uh, how do I get out of this...?

Anypony there? Hello?

Huh.
> Prologue: What You're Getting Yourself Into Here
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


1


FADE IN 

INT. CANTERLOT CASTLE—THRONE ROOM—DAY 

“Be cool,” Spider-Pony says to himself, pacing back and forth across one of the most important ceilings in the magical land of Equestria, “be cool, be cool, be cool, be cool...”

“Can’t be something you’re not,” the Horseshoe Torch decrees, forelegs behind his head, shades in place as he floats above one of the most important carpets in the magical land of Equestria. On fire. 

“Do you think she’s mad?” Spidey dangles upside down from a web-line to stare imploringly into his friend’s shades. Their gazes are inexorably drawn to the empty throne. “I’d be mad. Do you think she hates us? I bet she hates us.”

“I wouldn’t be mad!” Johnny pulls his shades up to squint. “I love me!”

“Aaaaagh, she so hates us!” Spidey spins in place on his line. 

“Gentlecolts.” 

Our heroes flinch, spinning towards the throne, now occupied by Princess Celestia. 

They bow. It’s difficult because the Torch is still in mid-air and Spidey is still upside down. 

“Some refreshment before we begin?” Celestia asks in a cheerful tone. She levitates some goodies out of a dish neither super is sure was there a moment ago. “Have you heard of these?” 

Her eyes narrow like descending guillotines. “I believe they’re called snack cakes.” 

“I can explain!” Spidey and the Torch blurt in sync. 

“Please do,” Celestia says. 


CUT TO:



2


EXT. EQUESTRIA—WASTELANDS—BLOOD RED SUNSET—FLASHBACK 

Tirek the Tyrannical towers over all creation, sucking the very magic out of Equestria itself…including the charismatic combo! 

“He’s absorbing anything he can find!” cries Spider-Pony as they writhe in the Kirby Krackle of Tirek’s breath. “Even our own superpowers!”

“You’re doing that thing again!” the Torch winces as his flames begin to die. 

“We’re totally helpless!” 

“Seriously, I am right here! I know what’s happening!” 

Tirek finishes his gorging, his prey flopping to the grass like used sock puppets. “And now,” the tyrant booms, “with the power of cosmic rays and…whatever it is a spider actually does…” He stops looking at his hands to clench and shake them at the heavens. “I shall march on Canterlot and steal the magic of the stars themselves!” 

“Not on our watch!” declares a trio of pre-pubescent voices. 

All three combatants stare at the Cutie Mark Crusaders, standing defiantly in Tirek’s shadow. Setting sunlight glints off a mound of…something in Scootaloo’s wagon. 

“Three school fillies?!” Tirek shakes the earth as he stomps forward to get a better look. “Against me?! Is this some kind of joke?!” 

“Buster,” Apple Bloom sullenly shoots back, “when it comes to the delicious taste of Hostess’ Apple Fruit Pies, I don’t joke around!” 

She bucks Scootaloo’s wagon, flinging a tiny red wrapped projectile at the enemy of everything pony! Tirek is so caught off guard he actually catches it to examine between his massive fingers. 

“And if you think that’s serious,” Sweetie Belle chimes in, levitating a swarm into his other hand, “then blackberry is gonna bury you!” 

“And after you’re done recovering from that sweet wordplay,” Scootaloo grins, bucking and headbutting her bounty out of her cart into the blinking Centaur’s clutches like an adorable Gatling gun, “you can wash it all down with peach, the perfect pallet cleanser!” 

“Now wait just a—” Tirek begins to protest, but gags as one of the Pegasus’ missiles gets past his guard and flies down his gullet. 

For a moment he is completely still, then chews contemplatively. The ground rumbles, not from thunder of approaching hooves, but Brobdingnagian murmurs of delight. 

“Zounds!” Tirek declares, squeezing a fist full of wrappers to consume more delicacies. Crumbs shower his beard. Spidey and Johnny are too weak to look away and it’s the worst. “And I thought I was powerful! Light, tender crust with tasty fruit filling! And so many flavours! Why, I simply must make room for more!” 

His frame glows and shrinks with each grunt and gulp, restoring lushness to trees and grass! Crimson clouds evaporate, returning Equestria to a perfect storybook day! 

“We got blueberry and lemon too if ya want,” Apple Bloom beams. 

“Oh I do,” a now only twelve foot Tirek murmurs through a mouthful of golden sponge cake, rich cream filling, and a galaxy of festive fruit flavours, “I do!”

Scootaloo throws herself backwards off her little hooves to crash into her wagon, catapulting a shattering window rainbow of spinning fruit pie wrappers into the declining centaur’s delighted grasp. As he savours the sweet taste of black and blueberry at once, a golden thunderbolt scratches itself out of his horns to strike the prone heroes.  

“Our powers!” Spidey gasps as he’s levitated to his hooves. “Returning!” 

“Context is obvious, thanks!” the reignited Torch growls from between clenched teeth. 

“They’re leading him back to Tartarus with that trail of delicious fruit pies!” 

“Did you get struck by lightning or something?”


3


INT. CANTERLOT CASTLE—THRONE ROOM—DAY

“Which, ah, funny story!” Spider-Pony says. 

“For another time,” Celestia quietly decrees. “So, after one isolated incident you decided to repeat the experiment. Correct?” 

“…lil’ bit.” Spidey shrugs, or is perhaps quivering too much to keep his shoulders straight. 

“A little bit,” Celestia repeats leadenly, as if he’d just said the same thing about self-crucifixion. 

Beat. 

“It just made everything so easy!” Spidey finally blurts. “You’d find a bad guy and you’d throw a pie and it’d all be over!” 

Of course he’s miming the throw. 

“But in fact!” the Torch declares. “It was only…beginning…”  Celestia is now looking at him, and it’s sinking in that drawing attention to himself may have been a bad idea. 

“Yes,” Celestia says steadily, “because as I understand it, that’s where you came in.”


CUT TO:



4


INT. 616B YANCY STREET—LIVING ROOM—NIGHT—FLASHBACK 

The lights are off, everything in the room shrouded by shadows. The only illumination comes from city lights through the balcony doors, one of which inches open to let a lithe figure with a bulging sack creep inside. And it sure ain’t Father Hearth's Warming! 

“Hello, roomie.” 

Spider-Pony freezes mid-creep, staring as a Barcalounger starts to judder like a small dog trying to eat a passing mosquito. “Johnny?!”

“…yeah,” the chair admits. Johnnycake’s trademark mane stabs over the top of the seatback as he wrestles with the armrests. “One…sec!”

“Were you…sitting in the dark? Is this a set up?”

“Yeah!” 

“Why is your chair facing the wrong way?” 

“Thought it was one of those…swivel ones…” the Torch grunts. “Hang on…”

His hooves start slapping the top and rubbing the undersides of each armrest. Spidey clutches the neck of his sack, like it’s a stuffed animal being used to ward off a depressing monster from under the bed. “I think you have to jiggle the thing…”

“Aha!” The lounger drops backwards so Johnny can grin at his roommate, upside down and with his hind hooves up. “So.” He puts his hooves behind his head, still upside down. “What do we have there?” 

“Uh…”

“Golden sponge?” Blue eyes narrow, glinting like water just before a shark attack. “Rich cream filling?” 

“Yeah,” Spidey admits. “Want one?”

“…whatcha got?”

“Everything but cherry. Evil really likes cherry!” 

“Hmm. What goes good with gloriousness?” 

“Uh, everything?” Spidey squints, tossing him a random flavour. “That’s the whole point! Is this a scheme? You’re making that face.” 

“Yeah, but it might be that my neck is stiff.” Johnny clambers to all fours, taking a bite. “Mmm! Light, tender crust…”

“Is it a get rich quick scheme?” Spidey rolls up his mask to indulge his own sweet tooth. 

“Please, Pete, this is Manehattan, not the town of Bedrock!” Johnny’s upper body disappears into the sack for a moment to procure some pies, one of each flavour, which he begins to juggle. “So! What we know: bad guys, no matter how evil, go crazy for golden sponge cake with tasty fruit filling!” 

“From criminally insane to confectionery insane!” Spidey agrees, flopping into his own chair. “Are we…thinking bigger?”

Johnny grins. 


SMASH CUT TO:



5


MONTAGE—

—INT.GOLDEN OAKS LIBRARY—PONYVILLE—DAY—FLASHBACK

Twilight Sparkle opens a book nosed across a table to her, telekinetically flips it open, and boggles at the (obviously way over)due by date. She glares up at a quivering Peter Trotter. 

Johnnycake leans over his roommate’s shoulder, one hoof over his eyes to protect them from the violet maelstrom gathering in Twilight’s…and places a pouch full of fruit snack besides the tome. 

He uncovers his eyes, and lets out a relived sigh as Twilight gorges herself on them in delight. The roomies nod to each other. Game on. 

—INT.MANEHATTAN BANK—DAY—FLASHBACK

Peter, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, smiles nervously as a loan officer looks up from going over his credit score. She stares at him before holding the sheet up in her mouth. Its covered in red notes, mostly…interrobangs?! 

Peter pretends to notice something behind her, causing her to look around. At another desk, Johnny, wearing a much better suit, continues to chat up the employee there while kicking a duffle bag, sending it sliding across to Peter.

When the loan officer turns back around, she finds a bag full of golden sponge with rich fruit flavour sitting between her and her smiling client. 

She takes a bite, stamps a giant red check mark onto Peter’s form, vanishes under her desk, and emerges in a complete clown ensemble, somersaulting over her desk and galloping out into the sun to finally fulfil her dreams! 

Peter shrugs as Johnny states at him. Okay, so it’s not a perfect system.

—EXT. WONDERBOLT DERBY TRACK—CANTERLOT—DAY—FLASHBACK

Equestria’s premiere flight squad rips around a final curve, neck after neck after neck for the finish line…! And the Horseshoe Torch comes blazing out of nowhere, snapping the tape of a race he wasn’t even in! 

Johnny performs a victory clasp for the confused crowd, turning to come face to face with an entire squadron of furious Wonderbolts. The only reason Fleetfoot hasn’t gone for his throat yet is because Soarin’s outraged wings are in the way. Not even because he’s on fire. 

Spider-Pony soars over the scene on a web-parachute, showering them with delicious golden sponge and rich cream filling! 

The Torch grins as the ‘bolts devour their new bounty, firing mini fireballs into the air to throw his own fireworks parade. Spidey is too busy being attacked by hungry seagulls to join in. 

—A copy of the Derby Bugle hits a random porch somewhere in Equestria. ‘RICH IN FLAVOUR, LOW IN CHARACTER?’ demands the front page, complete with photos of Spidey holding a trench coat open to offer Princess Cadence, eyes wide with wonder, the finest of fruit pie selections, while a shades wearing Johnny keeps a lookout. 

—EXT. CRYSTAL EMPIRE—FROZEN NORTH—DAY—FLASHBACK

A Just Sold sign juts out of the grass. Equestria’s lost landmark now sports a complex rollercoaster, often through entire building, which Spidey and the Torch ride with delirious abandon! 

Shining Armor looks over at his wife, surrounded by tiny hearts as she enjoys two of her fruit pies at once, and, with the air of resignation all great leaders possess, selects a lemon one for himself. 

—Derpy Hooves reads a copy of the Derby Bugle (upside down, bless her). ‘EVERYTHING FINE, ASSURE NEW OWNERS’ proclaims the headline. ‘Previous publisher still missing in mysterious seagull accident’ a sombre sidebar tells us.


—END MONTAGE 



6


INT. CANTERLOT CASTLE—THRONE ROOM—DAY

“Alright, alright, hold on!” Princess Celestia protests, waving one wing like a hand. “Are they fruit pies or something else? Golden sponge cake? That sounds like Twinkies. Is that what they are?”

“…nygh?” our marvellous masters of wondrous wordplay reply with twin shrugs. 

“Dare I ask how you managed to manufacture so many?” Celestia sighs. 

“There was gonna be a Pinkie Pie cameo with Sugar Cube Corner as a…lab,” Spidey explains. 

“But her contract’s super strict about wholesomeness,” the Torch ads, “soooo…”

“So she wasn’t there,” Celestia says in a voice of gathering thunderclouds, “when you decided to gate-crash the peace summit.” 


CUT TO:



7


INT. CANTERLOT CASTLE—SUMMIT ROOM—DAY—FLASHBACK

“Big noses may talk big,” bellows Prince Rutherford, “but that’s all: talk!” 

“This is a summit!” snaps an elephant ambassador with a hopefully actual South Asian accent. “The entire point is to talk, you…you…you--”

“Pin headed poltroon?” Rutherford suggests, indicating his own horns. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you. That!” 

“BAH! How dare you, you big eared bozo!”

“Bozo?! How dare you, sir! My father was the pride of the Broncoledesh circus circuit!” 

“Gentleman, please!” Celestia implores. “Surely we can come to some kind of--”

She spins as the doors bang open. “Spider-Pony?! Johnnycake?! How did you…where are the guards?! What are they eating?!” 

“The secret to world peace!” Spidey declares, upending his saddlebag all over the meeting table. 

“Relax Princess, we got this,” Johnny assures, lounging against a stunned Celestia’s leg.

“Now see here!” the elephant ambassador fumes. “These are private talks of vital importance to the fate of international relations!” He hesitates as his trunk picks out a random flavour and takes an experimental bite. “…and this is the most astonishing thing I’ve ever tasted! Soft, but filling!” 

“Little pony food may be little,” Rutherfod agrees enthusiastically as he shoves an entire punch bowl’s worth of flavour down his gullet, “but it packs a biiiig wallop!”

“Seriously,” Spidey beams at a paralysed Celestia, “there’s nothing that first taste of delicious fruit filling can’t solve!” 

“Fruit filling?” the ambassador asks,  blinking. “Oh dear, are you sure?”

“…yeah?” Spidey shares glances with Johnny, both feeling like Iderspay-Ensesay should be inglingtay.

“Oh well, I suppose I can risk it!” the ambassador smiles self-indulgently. “At least there’s no kind of cream filling. Urk.” 

He topples tusks first on top of Rutherford, collapsing not two but three empires. 


SMASH CUT TO:



8


INT. CANTERLOT CASTLE—THRONE ROOM—DAY

“So in conclusion,” Celestia says, striding past her terrified guest to a window, “not only is Equestria at war with two nations at once.”

She telekinetically yanks a cord, throwing open the curtains. Canterlot’s streets are full of rioters, looters, and already a few fires. Discord crowd surfs a passing mob with obvious delight. 

“But the economy is in tatters because fruit snack pies are now the only accepted currency, thanks to a surprise merger Equestria itself is now a subsidiary of Flim Flam Fortunes which owns those snacks…”

She holds a hoof to her ear at a distant explosion. “And unless I miss my guess, that would be every prison in the country breaking open under an army of inmates, desperate to get their teeth into either tasty fruit or rich cream filling. All because you lads didn’t think life in the magic kingdom of Equestria was comfortable enough.”

She rounds on them. “What do you have to say for yourselves?!” 

The two look at each other. 

“Well, gosh Princess…” Johnny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, sending up sparks. 

“I…I don’t know what we can say,” Spider-Pony eventually concludes, ears drooping as he lowers his head. 

It snaps up as the camera zooms in suddenly. “Except!” 

The camera pulls back just enough for Celestia and the Torch to crowd into frame next to him, grinning like funhouse mirrors. This awful new Cerberus opens all three of its mouths and says the words of Ragnarök: 

“Live from Manehattan, it’s Saturday Night Live!” 


END DREAM SEQUENCE 



9


“YGH!” 

Princess Luna’s head whipped around her room without seeing anything. When her vision did finally settle, she instinctively squinted her eyes half shut, wincing. One set of her curtains were open to let the light of the moon in, but her room was lit by a more intrusive flicker. It wormed its way into her brain, which felt boiled. 

She looked up at the source, clumsily sat on her bureau from constant uncertain readjustments. Ah. Yes. That. 

It had been quiet in the dreamscape, so she’d returned early to the waking world with nothing to do. She’d read everything and Hunter Rose’s latest wouldn’t be out for another five months. 

Her home projector was ‘in the shop’, and Celestia had been all too eager to talk her into taking one of those new…things. 

Out of the Empire, made of crystal, they were testing them all over Equestria, they sort of caught… ‘casts?’ Like a fishing net but they were also for plays? Had a word in front. Large. Wide? You could see things from the cinema and off the radio on them, was the point!

Anyway! She’d finally…‘plugged’ it in because it was late, the Defenders weren’t needed, she had nothing to read, so what the hay, she’d watch the zeitgeist reel. 

Politics, most of which she already knew, latest in fashion, which had been fun, whom was dating whom, things sixth formers were saying to each other…after that, the part you put the reel in had spat it out at her like an insolent tongue, and the screen had some kind of spasm. Luna had sat frozen uncertainly, before realising the colours were a game show. Picked up all the way from Las Pegasus, fancy that. 

She’d settled back on the bed uncertainly, and watched the CV shimmer from thing to thing. 

Crystal Vision! That was it! Latest thing in a few decades, apparently, though she wasn’t sure it would be for the reason the lads in the lab thought it would. It was more like you couldn’t believe you’d been reduced to this, so you sat there trying to see how far you could take it before you melted. 

Which she sort of had, or more likely dozed off after that Saturday Night thing. Which was the last clear thing she could remember. 

Which was why the morning castle staff found the crystal screen, bound like an Everfree monster by its power cord, stuck outside her majesty’s chambers, with a piece of parchment sticky taped to it. 

It bore Luna’s seal and simply read, ‘No.’ 


To be Continued 

> Squirm Notice (1)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


1


Just another sunny, quiet day in Manehattan. 

Yeah, right. 

Passing ponies thought it was odd that disco lights were already flashing in the windows of a club, but hey, life in the big city. Some conscientious ones wondered if they should call the fire department, but those golden flickers were mixing with enough purple to make them unsure. 

Then the windows blew out and they were too busy diving for cover to think. A purple streak blasted out of the smoke, followed through the air by another streak of golden flame. 

“Oh no you don’t!” the Horseshoe Torch yelled over clanging alarm bells and pedestrian screams. 

“Haven’t even decided what I’m gonna do for an encore yet,” Lyja the Laser Lasher smirked over her shoulder, propelling herself on purple laser bursts from her hooves, “but yes I do!” 

Under his flames, Johnnycake Storm ground his perfect teeth, his own hoof thrusters burning harder and his epidermis growing darker. A month after Tirek’s rampage, almost two since the last time the Super Skrull had tried to snare him in some stupid trap, and he was now even more determined not to let her escape. Not this time! 

“Not this time!” he snapped out loud, trying to turn it into fuel. 

“I think I can, I think I can!” Lyja taunted over the howl of their slipstream. 

“Your pointy ears burning?” Johnny began lobbing fireballs. “Let me help with that!” 

Lyja twisted, trying to keep him in view so she could dodge each projectile as they burst. Lighting up the skies with miniature suns was probably not a good look, but in fairness to Johnny, they weren’t really supposed to nail Lyja. Each of his missiles was mostly light from his flame aura, designed to burst open and slow his quarry down with their dazzling light. The worst a civilian would catch was a mild case of heat stroke and some spots in the eyes. 

Lyja complicated things by diving down into the second tier of civilian airspace, startling couriers and the aerial equivalent of joggers as she weaved among them, forcing the Torch to stay at his current height in case he burned somepony. 

“C’mon Lyja,” he challenged, hoping she wouldn’t be able to resist, and give him something to follow beyond those fading purple light trails, “it’s not like I can’t smell you coming!” 

“Haven’t seen me coming so far!” There, weaving around that penthouse! “And weird time to be complementing my perfume!” 

“Nah, you just stink!” 

An heiress leapt into her obligatory small dog’s paws as they flinched away from the balcony the Torch was shooting past. Okay, way too close, and the longer this went on, the more Lyja would pull to lose him. Time to get creative and end her! 

…this. 

For the. The good of the city. Of course. 


***


Lyja slashed around a roof garden, eliciting confused cheers from party goers, squinting as her ex darted behind an opposite building. She braked suddenly, altering her laser pulses to keep herself aloft in mid-air. The Torch, smiling vacantly, spun around from behind his cover, coming at her head on. 

“Nice try, babe!” Lyja sneered, her eyes lightning up. She fired, two beams merging into one…and blinked as she blew the Horseshoe Torch’s head off. Literally. 

Black smoke poured from the missing top of Johnny’s head, only his chin and vacant smile remaining. His body hovered there for a beat, limbs dangling, before disintegrating into brick red fragments, a sudden thermal wind venting these and even more black smoke directly into Lyja’s face. 

The Skrull coughed, instinctively throwing her hooves up in front of her face. And inadvertently turning off her thrusters. She was too surprised to cry out as she toppled out of the smoke, solid sidewalk spinning up to meet her. 

“De—” The true-blue Horseshoe Torch darted from the opposite side of the building, blinking as his lunge through the smoke failed to fill his forelegs with Skrull. “—coy…?”

He looked down, eyes bugging under protective golden plasma. 


***


Pedestrians stared up as Lyja’s shadow fell over them, flinching as a contrail of flame sliced out of nowhere to catch her. 

Johnny twisted to hold onto Lyja and avoid smacking into a truck, sending them both crashing into some Manehattan alley garbage. He killed his flames, and scrabbled to grab the dazed Skrull’s wrists, spinning her onto her front and fumbling for cuffs in his utility collar. 

Lyja blinked, amazed to be alive. “What?” 

“Hey, don’t get the wrong idea,” Johnny muttered. “Just because I wanna see you in Tartarus doesn’t mean I’ll let you wind up as street pizza.” 

“Cool!” Rainbow Dash grinned up at him, her neck twisted unnaturally. “How ‘bout me?”

Johnny froze. 

Which was all the opening Lyja needed, filling Rainbow Dash’s eyes with her power and blasting the Torch in the chest, sending him rocketing towards the lowest balcony of a fire escape. 

Johnny burst into outraged flames, stopping himself seconds from impact and recovering faster than she expected, conjuring a wall of flame across the mouth of the alley. Lyja skidded, spinning herself around fast enough to belly slide under his grasping dive and bolt for the other entrance. 

Johnny shot an extra story as she sprang over a fence, desperate not to lose sight of her. If she managed to shapeshift in the middle of a Manehattan crowd, he’d never find her! 

He blinked as he caught sight of her, still disguised as Rainbow Dash. She’d been galloping down the street and stopped for some reason, staring at another rainbow haired but Dutch White coated mare carrying a tray. 

“Stop that Skrull!” Johnny hollered, blasting towards them. 

Lyja squawked as she spun to see him coming, her ears and hair briefly spiking back to Skrull standard, before desperately grabbing something off the mare’s tray and hurling it at him. Johnny pulled up, startled and swatting flames at it. At first, he’d assumed it was some kind of chemical weapon but, as it sloshed sadly down his front, burning away and pooling out of the tub at his hooves, he realised it was…ice cream? 

Lyja-Dash stared, equally stupefied as his eyes met hers. The mare with the tray looked awkwardly between them. They all froze at a distant honk, focusing on a subway kiosk up the street. Then Lyja spun, inadvertently biffing her in the nose with Rainbow’s tail as she galloped for it. 

“Hey!” The Torch launched himself forward, then darted back. “Hi, nice hair, you wear it better, are those free samples?” 

“N-no…?” the candy mare stammered. 

“Then it’s your lucky day!” Johnny pulled out his wallet, composed of the same unstable molecular fabric as his collar, dumping a small flurry of bit vouchers, pebbled with some actual bits, onto her tray before grabbing the nearest set of tubs. 

“LYJA!” he bellowed, putting on a desperate burst of speed. 

It worked. She skidded to a halt inches from the first step, turning to stare as he hurled an already melting mass of rainbow sherbet towards her. Lyja yelped, pinwheeling her forelegs as it splashed into her face and down her front, toppling out of sight. 

Johnny skidded to a halt in mid-air, flaming off before he accidentally burned any of the staring civilians and galloped down the steps, darting around startled commuters making their way up. “'Scuse me! Watch your hooves! Go Mets!”

He looked around desperately, prancing in circles as two trains poured crowds of creatures into the station. No sign of not-Rainbow Dash…but he caught the eye of a cherry coloured mare, covered in ice cream, arguing with some transit cops as she tried to board one of the trains. 

Johnny grinned. He did need to catch his breath, but he also wanted to enjoy this. So he was going to. 


***


Lyja, in a display of Skrull ability to quickly adapt to almost any environment, including the Big Apple, waited until the ping of the doors, then elbowed one of the cops trying to prevent the wacko covered in foreign substances from getting them all over the mayor’s shiny new transit system, and darted between the closing doors. 

It cost her only a few tail hairs and the other cop stared, helping her gasping partner to her hooves, as they drifted to the platform, shimmering green. 

Lyja snorted in her new voice, grateful that the sticky mess all over her was making even veteran subway riders give her a wide berth. She’d double back at the next stop and—

“No, no, ma’am, I insist.” 

“Well thank you, young stallion!” 

Lyja turned slowly, and compulsively gripped the hoof rail. Johnnycake leered at her as he stood up to give his seat to an old pony. 

Swaying in time with the rocking car, he began to stalk towards her. 



2


“What the hay do you think you’re doing?!” publisher Ferocious Flattop demanded, as his limo driver kicked the door open and galloped down a secluded alley he'd suspiciously parked in. “GET BACK HERE AND START THIS COCKAMAMIE THING! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH IT COST?!” 

“Reckon we could probably afford a few after this,” chuckled a languid country drawl. 

Flattop flinched, glaring at the window. He recognised the Unicorn in the cowboy hat poking his head in through the window to admire the automobile. “Care to step outside, Mr. Newshound?” 

“I warn you!” Flattop barked, scrabbling for his briefcase but only knocking it under his seat. “I’m a beloved institution in this town! Ponies’ll come looking for me if I just disappear!” 

He grabbed an early edition of The Derby Bugle instead, rolling it up. 

“That’s the idea,” Line smiled pleasantly. He tapped the roof of the limo as he leaned his head out. “Sinker?” 

A shovel sized hoof attached to a thick, mustard coloured leg punched through Flattop’s window, gripped the frame, and tore the entire door out of the limo. 

“HEY!” Flattop howled, swatting at the impassive oxen’s face as he was hauled out. “THIS THING’S NEW!” 

“An’ the Enforcers,” Line drawled, toying idly with his signature steel cord, as his prize fighter associate Hooks ambled up to finish surrounding the publisher, “we like to think of ourselves as classics.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Flattop muttered, fumbling inside his suit vest. Sinker gripped him by the tail, hauling him upside down off the asphalt and shaking him. In addition to the pepper spray Flattop had been reaching for, his wallet, keys, (bubble gum) cigar case, and several different sized combs tumbled out. 

Line and Sinker stared down at them. 

“For his moustache.” Hook indicated his own. 

Line and Sinker stared at him. 

“What in Celestia’s name do you think you’re doing?!” Flattop sputtered, flailing in the heavy’s grip, making himself sway. “And I should warn you, she’s a close personal friend!” 

“Well, that’s a coincidence,” Line resumed, getting back into the spirit of things by twirling his lasso, “because you’ve been making a certain friend of ours mighty uncomfortable with these Status Quo pieces you’ve been running.”

“Those’re…about…practically…anypony!” Flattop grunted, still flailing. The Enforcers shared unimpressed looks as he finally managed to snag something in his teeth. “AHA!” 

“You want it?” Line asked. 

Hook recoiled. “Hay no! It’s been in his mouth!” 

Flattop went cross eyed to inspect his bounty. He’d been aiming for the pepper spray. He’d gotten one of his moustache combs. 

Sinker grunted. 

“Yeah yeah,” Line muttered. “My associate’s right, Mr. Flattop. It really don’t matter who’s tail you’ve been flickin’. We appreciate that your reporter’s dished all sorts of dirt on all sorts of ponies, an’ it’d be a serious violation of our confidentiality clause to just tell ya who to back off of. What you can do is drop Status Quo!”

“I can’t just--” Flattop wheezed. The blood was starting to rush to his head. 

“Oh, she’s incredibly popular!” Line chuckled, pressing a hoof to his heart. “I myself am a regular reader!” He leaned in. “Which means I know part of the attraction is she’s got a, what ya might call, blunt style. Nopony’s gonna be surprised if you found somethin’ and fired her for conduct unbecomin' of a fine, upstandin’ publication such as yours.” 

Flattop’s eyes were almost furiously popping free of his head. “You--” 

“You owe me fifty bits,” Hook muttered, flicking his toothpick away. 

“I most certainly do,” Line sighed, straightening up and adjusting his hat. “Mr. Flattop is one o’ them principled sorts. Well, the Enforcers, we’ve got principles too.” 

He smirked, lighting up his horn. Flattop went rigid in Sinker’s grip as the lasso floated towards him, morphing into barbed wire. 

“Such as don’t leave a mark. ‘Least not where anypony can see…”

“Careful fellas, he may not look like much but that moustache is a lethal weapon in five counties!” 

The Enforcers looked up as the Spectacular Spider-Pony dropped from on high, bouncing off the limo’s roof and perching on Sinker’s head. His tail whipped into the giant’s nose. “Coochie-coochie-coo!” 

Sinker sneezed so hard Hook and Line were bowled off their hooves, the Web-Slinger desperately adhering to the oxon’s skull as Flattop tumbled to the ground. “Don’t tell me you’re part of this too!” he snapped. 

“Alright,” Spidey grunted, trying to keep Sinker’s huge forelegs from getting a grip on him, “I won’t tell you that.”

He managed to kick himself free, rolling backwards and springing aside as Sinker brought both forelegs down, buckling the roof of the limo. Flattop clapped his hooves to the sides of his face and howled. 

“Oh no ya don’t!” Hook snarled. He clicked his hooves, concealed knives springing from the spats around them, and lunged for Spidey. 

“I don’t look good in these pants?” The Web-Slinger ducked, firing a dollop of webbing from his tail as the Enforcer soared over him. “Well you could’ve said something at the sale!” 

“KNOCK THAT OFF!” Flattop bellowed as one of the Enforcer’s hooves hit the limo’s windscreen, sticking there from the webbing he’d inadvertently kicked. Hook flopped onto the hood and flailed, his blades scratching the glass and paintjob. 

Spidey shrugged as Line and Sinker circled him. “You heard him. Grandpa said knock you out.” 

“Always with the jokes,” Line snarled, conjuring another lasso. Spidey effortlessly avoided the one that came for him but hesitated as he landed. Magic crept along the other, now crackling with electricity. 

“That’s new…” Spidey noted, ducking one of Sinker’s legendary swings, sliding under him before he could attempt one of his equally legendary headbutts. 

“Always have somethin’ up your sleeve,” Line sneered, whirling electricity and barbed wire in front of him to ward off any punches and force Spidey to back up. 

“Yeah, but I’m the only one here with sleeves!” Spidey countered, ducking another swing, and firing a blindfold into Sinker’s face. The ox bellowed with fury and charged blindly, forcing a yelping Line to dive aside. 

“YOU VANDALS!” Flattop screamed from around the dumpster he was using as cover, watching helplessly as Sinker blindly rammed the limo’s trunk, blowing out the remaining windows. The Enforcer collapsed, unconscious, Hook yelping as his colleague’s  weight lifted the front off the asphalt slightly.  

“You been warned, paper boy!” Line snapped at him, spinning, and galloping for an alleyway. Spidey folded his forelegs and leaned casually against a wall. 

“You’re actually letting him go?!” Flattop boggled. “You have to be at least ten times worse than I ever said you were!”

“Yeah, I’m a real stinker.” Spidey admired his hoof. “Think he’ll be mad I coated the seat and handlebars of his bike with webbing?” 

A squelch and string of cursing echoed from another alleyway. 

Flattop glared as Spidey held out a hoof. He swatted it aside, clambering to all fours. “Am I supposed to be grateful?!” 

“You’re supposed to be watching your blood pressure, but a thankyou would be nice,” Spidey simpered. “I mean, look at all we’ve been through together!” 

He dangled a comb from his tail, waving it in front of the publisher. “The things I’ve done for your grooming regimen!” 

“You stopped to play puerile pranks!” Flattop seethed. “WHILE MY LIFE WAS ON THE LINE!” 

“You’re lucky I heard these particular boys were back in town,” Spidey snapped. 

From Cage, he reflected sombrely. Since I cut ties with the Bugle I don’t have as hot a line on the underworld as I used to. Damage Control keeps tabs on what powers we might be cleaning up after this week, but it’s not the same as getting it straight from Glen Fiddich. I’d’ve gone in knowing Line upgraded his repertoire because Glen would make sure HE knew something like that…

“LUCKY?!” Flattop roared. “LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO MY NEW AUTOMOBILE!” 

“Oh what,” Spidey scoffed, “your own private carriage was too much all of a sudden? If it’s any consolation that puppy’d probably stunk just as badly of moustache oil in about a week. Then again it only took a couple days in your esteemed company for your driver to take the first bribe that came along.” 

“…hrghm,” Flattop rumbled suddenly, tapping a hoof to his chin. “That double dealing delinquent was hired by the insurance agency. One look at their employee records and you could probably find out what connections he had to moonlight for lowlifes like the Enforcers…” 

“'Ey!” Hook called from the hood. “You hire the Enforcers, you hire class!” 

“What grade?” Spidey webbed the mercenary’s mouth shut. “Elementary?” 

He rubbed his hooves together. “Speaking of, my dear Flotsam, why stop there? For all you know the auto-barn,”—He snorted with dweeby pleasure—“you picked that jalopy up from could be owned by whoever Status Quo’s looking into! At the very least, we know they don’t like you.”

Flattop raised an eyebrow. “Eh?” 

“Yeah, does anypony?!” Spidey raised a hoof, milking every second of faux hanging as the publisher bared his teeth.  “Oooh, left and right veins throbbin’! That means y’know something that makes this a good idea, but it came from me so you don’t wanna admit it!” 

“It’s Manehattan! Lots of insurance agencies get up to no good! LOTS! YOU’RE NOT SO SMART!” 

“I’m so outta here,” Spidey scoffed, leaping into the air and firing off a web-line. “You round up the M.E.U.P., maybe hunt through your couch cushions for spare change. I’ll find time to look into this, if I’m not too busy saving the rest of the city!” 

“WHAT?! GET BACK HERE!” Flattop shook his furious hooves after the web-slinger. “LOOK AT THIS THING! I NEED YOUR INFORMATION!”

“I skipped lunch for this,” Spidey called back. “Make of that what you will.” 



***

He was halfway down (well, over) Orchard Street when it hit him. 

…look into it? How? I mean, I could, but not like back in the day. I can’t just hang out in the bullpen and eavesdrop anymore. There’s hitting up dives, Turk’s always got something, but I can’t be nearly as specific as I used to be! Could always follow ol’ steel wool features around but who’d do THAT?

He sighed as he released his line, firing a new one to cut through Dragon Town. 

You, Pete m’boy. You’ve tried to put the Bugle AND the blowhard behind you, but the second Duke mentioned those rumours about who the Enforcers were going after, hay, I was on the case like Johnny on a yoga class. On the other hoof, why? 

This train of thought was depressing him so much he didn’t bother making any one liners as a pony in a ski masked raced out of a store with two saddle bags full of diamonds, perused by a portly dragon security guard. He simply fired off a burst of webbing from his tail, tying the thief’s forelegs together, without even looking. 

Unresolved issues? Puh-LEZE! You could lay a pipeline from Manehattan to Las Pegasus on the amount I’m carrying. And the last time I actually spoke to Flattop without the mask on was when he tried to chew me out in the middle of Twilight’s coronation! So that should be one less issue, right? Right! And it’s not like I don’t know how this’ll go! 

He snorted through his mask. 

I’ll risk my tail, take all the lumps, to say nothing of hours out of my social life running down leads, and the only difference NOW is he won’t try to haggle me out of a liveable wage instead of just crucifying me in his headlines! 

…and I’m gonna anyway, because I’m not so mad about the old buzzard I can just leave him twisting in the wind. 

Speaking of, why am I thinking about all of this at a couple hundred stories? Not that I wanna drop this on Twilight’s shiny new doorstep, but listening to ponies unload IS basically her job! 

Oof, bad choice of words, Pete. Ponyville still isn’t 100% sure how her licence should work now they don’t have a library anymore. Which means I should swing by to check out how SHE’S doing instead of taking up her time with my daddy issues. 

…chatty…issues. Because I talk in my head too much. I don’t feel bad about Flattop! Agh, really shouldn’t have skipped lunch.

He stopped in at this one place Iron Hoof had started recommending, then grabbed a donut halfway back to the Flatiron District because he remembered, oh yeah, he had money for dessert now! 


***

After that it was a simple matter of going through the increasingly familiar new routine of changing out of his costume and into his Damage Control vest, sauntering down a wall, around a corner and into the actual building. 

He tried to avoid thinking about the fact it still felt new, and the elevator ride up to Damage Control’s staff centre still gave him time to free associate his way back to the problem of how to keep tabs on Flattop, even as he took his seat at his desk. 

Wait, Ms. Grace is with Ferocious on that school board. Does she own stock in the Bugle too? Hmm, how would I even ask though? It’d be no problem breaking into her office after hours but she hired Peter Trotter, not your Federally Offensive Spider-Pony! 

…is breaking and entering a federal offence? Yeah, kinda, ‘cause Damage Control does work for the government. But wait, we’re a monarchy, so--

He looked up from his paperwork. “Sorry?” 

“I said Ms. Grace is looking for you,” Upside smiled. She was still his Pegasus cubicle neighbour, at least until she either got assigned to another district or moved on from their site consulting position. 

“Uh…”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax! It’s nothing bad.”

“You sure?” 

“Trust me, if it was bad the entire floor would be talking about it.” 

“Is it because I suggested we should be allowed to customise our hard hats for Casual Fridays?” 

“No.”

“And that we should institute Casual Fridays?”

Upside shrugged. “I don’t even work Fridays, so...” 

“Because that was a joke.” 

“Jokes are funny,” she countered. “She just wants you to say hi or something.” 

“The third or fourth greatest philanthropist who’s not secretly the Crime King wants me, me, to just say hi,” Peter smirked. “Yeah, right.” 

“Well, not just you specifically, Mr. Trotter,” said a maternal voice that froze the blood in his veins. He could now feel the majesty of the mare who’d founded the specialised re-construction company behind him on a level beyond Spider-Sense. “And I specifically don’t need to speak to him, Upside. Our finance department does.” 

“Oh, wow!” Upside dropped out of sight as she actually sat in her chair instead of standing on it. “Lookit all this fresh paperwork!” 

“That’s the spirit,” Ms. Amazing Grace smiled. “Do be sure to pop your head in when you’ve got a minute, Trotter.” 

“Ma’am,” Peter squeaked, still not turning around. 


***


He eventually did, mostly by just following the few creatures in the building who 
A) had suits and looked like they knew what they were doing, 
B) were not one of those whackos from Ms. Grace’s personal office on the 21st floor. 

The jury was still out on whether or not the proprietor was as benevolent as she seemed, but if her assistant Aniseed wasn’t rocking a Darth Vader costume and auditioning for the new Nightmare Moon on the side he’d eat all his webs. 

It really wasn’t just him, it turned out. A couple of other site consultants, some of the lab techs, even some construction workers, all of them crowded onto the couches outside the finance office. A nice mare with a suit saw them in, sometimes two at a time. 

By the time they got to Peter the herd had been thinned enough that they were mostly being shown in one at a time. Peter went in after a yack who was practically tap dancing. That should be good, riiiight…?

He was ushered across the room full of desks, each with focused creatures working with numbers or answering phones, to the spacious private office of a mare, a stallion, and a minotaur, all of whom smiled too much. 

He sat in a one-size-fits-all-creatures seat integrated cities like Manehattan had ordered a few years back, which meant it was far too big but also too narrow for him. They respected the fact he preferred to stand. It was the sort of quality they were looking for. He answered their questions as best he could. They laughed at the few jokes he told out of nervousness. A sense of humour would take him far in this job! 

“Job?” Peter asked. 

Opportunity, his new besties corrected themselves, still speaking in perfect time one after the other. They explained what opportunity they were talking about. Why he qualified for it. They didn’t tell him how much it would improve his life but it was implied. 

And if he’d been anypony else he’d probably have taken it. 

But he was who he was. 


3


Lyja sat stock still as the subway slowed. The fourth stop without getting off. 

Johnny sat a few seats away from her on the opposite row. He was still trying to remain cautious of civilians, especially in a space as enclosed as this, but something about the obvious tension between him and Lyja was causing that rarest of Manehattan miracles: a mostly empty subway car. Other passengers had either moved to the furthest ends or straight up into another car, which suited him. 

He’d need more space to actually do anything to restrain her, though, and Lyja knew it. He’d been waiting to see if she made a dash at any of the stops but so far she was waiting it out. Maybe she’d have taken a hostage if she hadn’t been covered in ice cream. Even Manehattan commuters didn’t wanna sit too close to that kinda mess. 

Johnny hummed the first few parts of Jaws as the train started up again, shifting along until he was directly in front of her. Lyja squinted at him. “Seriously?” 

“Aren’t you having fun?” Johnny smiled. 

“You threw ice cream at me.” 

“Sounds like fun to me!” 

“You threw ice cream at me!” 

“Aww, poor baby! Hey, remember that time you invaded my entire life?”

“Which one?” Lyja simpered, batting her disguised lashes. 

She blinked as Johnny laughed, which surprised them both. 

After that the ride continued in as much silence as the subway ever had. Their fellow passengers were still trying to pretend no eye contact was the same as ignoring them. 

“Y’know the first thing I’m gonna do when they call the Shi’ar to haul you away?” Johnny asked pleasantly. 

Lyja said something rude in Skrullian. The passengers ignored them even more. 

“I’m gonna eat one scoop of every flavour of ice cream.” Johnny leaned in conspiratorially, which admittedly didn’t work because he couldn’t lower his voice over the sound of the wheels. “Even the super-secret flavour only rich people know about.” 

“That’s not as cool as you think it sounds,” Lyja countered aloofly. 

“Oh, it’s not a threat or anything! I just want you to be thinking about that every day you’re in space jail!” 

“Space jail.” She held up a hoof to facepad, but hesitated, weary of how sticky her ice cream coating was, and settled for waving it dismissively. “This is the scourge of the galactic community, people,” she called to the other passengers, “a 24-year -old pony who uses the words space jail.” 

“You’re thinking about it!” Johnny cooed. “♪I’m getting toooo yoooou!♪”

“I think you need to understand a few things,” Lyja smiled. “First, this planet’s going to expend the amount of magic and money it’d take to get past your crazy atmosphere, contact the Shi’ar empire, largest political body in five solar systems…to come pick up one person?” 

“Princess Celesita’s met you,” Johnny sneered, trying to rattle her, “she knows you’re worth the effort.” 

“And she’s known you longer.” Lyja winked and leaned back in her seat, folding her forelegs. “But back to the racism.” 

“Excuse me?” Johnny blinked. 

“The Shi’ar coming to pick up a Skrull?” Lyja raised an eyebrow. “You guys do know not all extra-terrestrials are the same, right? Okay, let’s put aside your automatic assumption that Majestix Lilandra’s whole government exits just to arrest people you don’t like. What are they charging me with?” 

“Being you.”

“Really helping yourself there. But it’s an important question, because, see, I’m law enforcement too!” 

Lyja gestured to take in the subway car, the station it was pulling into, and presumably the idea of the city above it. “What’re they gonna charge me with, Johnny? Jurisdictional trespassing? Because even if your little world here wasn’t a political hoof-grenade, the Shi’ar can’t exactly talk. This isn’t one of their planets but it never stopped them showing up. Or seeking suspects, which is, y’know….” Her eyes glowed purple. “My job.” 

Johnny was silent as ponies made their way on and off the car. 

“Yeah, well,” he said eventually, “I’m gonna go to that spa on 103rd too.”

Lyja’s eyes went wide, leaking outrage Kirby Krackle. Johnny jumped to his hooves, grinning with satisfaction even though the other passengers were staring to panic at the sight of the seething Super Skrull. 

Lyja inhaled through her nose, the power in her eyes flickering as she tried to calm down. “There’s a simple solution here.” 

“Yeah?” Johnny ignited only his forelegs, patting a clenched hoof into the pad of his other one and sending up sparks. “’Cause this is sounding more like the easy way or the you-know-what-way.” 

“I was thinking this way,” Lyja smirked. She widened her eyes, and the entire car filled with purple light and screaming ponies. 

Johnny doused his forelegs, instinctively throwing them up to cover his eyes. That hadn’t been a blast, he’d have felt it. She’d used a flare move. Did she steal that idea from him?! 

He felt something shove past him and flailed, trying to grab (presumably) Lyja. A tail lashed against his foreleg. He lunged for it, clamping his jaws tight around the taste of hair seasoned with peppermint. 

Lyja yelped, accelerating from the sudden pain and dragging him off his hooves. Johnny’s chin struck the platform, pain somehow clearing the spots in his eyes from the flare, commuters scattering like a shark alert on a beach as Lyja dragged him behind her, desperately weaving to try and shake him lose. 

Ever since being bombarded by cosmic rays, Johnny’s powers meant his body had an interesting relationship with friction. The closest he could ever describe the sensation of heat to others was that it felt like it had been blunted. What was rapid irritation of the skin when you could achieve nova flame, a heat approaching that of a small sun? 

Which meant that his belly didn’t feel especially warm as he skidded on it in Lyja’s wake. Pain was absolutely still there, though! 

“Get off!” Lyja shrieked hysterically. She began to gallop around and round some seats, sending their occupants scattering in every direction. One of them tread on Johnny’s right hind leg. “Get off, get off, get off, get off!” Lyja chanted

Her latest mad turn sent Johnny swinging, crashing into an abandoned cleaning cart. He lost his grip on Lyja’s tail, the sudden release sending her tripping over her own hooves. 

Wincing, Johnny scrabbled to get back to all fours. Lyja recovered just seconds ahead of him and galloped towards a nearby crowd. 

Manehattanite cursing followed Johnny as he tried to keep up with her desperate weaving through the cluster of creatures. He couldn’t count on that ice cream marker forever! The second she got time to camouflage again she’d be in the wind. 

He spotted her target as he was forced to jump around a minotaur family: another train. If she got far enough ahead…

Johnny sprang over the pony in front of him, igniting and rocketing towards the other set of doors on Lyja’s intended car. Screams filled the station, a baby even started crying somewhere. He was flying dangerously low and depending on the crowd’s own preservation instincts to keep from horribly disfiguring someone. 

One shot, and if it was the wrong kind of car…!

He cut his flames, tumbling through the closing doors, almost crash landing on top of a startled pack of commuters. He spotted Lyja, boggling at him from around a staring dance troupe, but whipped his head all around the car. 

The doors chimed. The wheels began to turn. There! Above that pony in the Mets cap! 

Johnny lunged forward and pulled the emergency break. Startled cries Mexican Waved their way across the entire train as it rocked to a halt. 

“Oh for ⊑⟒⏃⎐⟒⋏'⌇ ⌇⏃☍⟒!” Lyja yelled in Skrullian. Johnny began to force his way through the throng towards her as she leaped towards some doors. She morphed her tail into that of an Ankylosaurus, swiping them right out of their housing. 

“There is nowhere…in Equestria…” Johnny grunted as he finally extricated himself, “you can hide from me!” 

“Wanna bet?!” Lyja called over her shoulder, galloping across the opposite platform. 

Johnny let his mane and tail catch fire, his lowest temperature, trying to startle as many rubber neckers out of the way as he could. He vaulted over a bench as she skidded around a corner. The crowds could see them both coming now and were parting before them like the Red Sea, giving him a straight run at her. 

Johnny whooped as he leapt forward, firing a low-level thermal burst of super-heated air behind himself to rocket straight down the platform. He crashed into Lyja, tackling her so hard her shapes changed back and forth in a few eyeblinks. She was still in her cherry pony disguise when they hit the platform, Johnny on top of her. 

“Man, The Bugle’s right!” cried a random jamoke in the crowd as they wrestled. “You supers think you can shove just anypony around!” 

“She’s not just anypony!” Johnny shot back, trying to get his foreleg up to stop one of Lyja’s poking his eye out. “She’s a shape shifting alien invader! With laser eyes!” 

“I am a law enforcement agent of the Skull empire!” Lyja shrieked, trying to headbutt him. 

“Man,” supplied some unseen wag, “ya get all kinds on the subway!” 

“Ball’s in your court,” Johnny snarled, grinning as he finally managed to pin Lyja. 

“Oh, you wanna play games?” she sneered back. She suddenly grabbed her belly and threw her head back to let out a piercing shriek. “Oh Great Pony in the Sky! The baby! What did you just do to my baby?!” 

A Yankee Stadium worthy roar of disapproval and outrage reverberated all around the crowds. Johnny was so shocked he actually threw his hooves up, practically springing off Lyja. It gave her enough legroom to kick him in the breadbasket and make a break for it. 

Coughing, Johnny forced himself to uncurl and tumble after her as she charged up some stairs. He staggered to the top, struggling to keep his balance, looking around desperately for her. 

“Nowhere in Equestria, huh?” Lyja called. Johnny spun to see her, still covered in ice cream, leering at him from a doorway.  

“That’s right!” Johnny yelled. He shot towards her like a magnificently groomed destroyer missile as she spun and, almost balletically, pranced through…the door to the little filly’s room. 

He skidded to a halt, staring at the ♀ sign over the door. 

Of course he couldn’t. She knew that. And not only could she change shapes and slip out, she’d have time to wash off all that ice cream too. 

This close. He’d been this close to finally shutting her down! Well, okay, fine, he’d been keeping up, whatever! And now she was about to slip through his hooves like so much melting ice cream. Could today get any—?

“That’s him, officers!” somepony called behind him. Johnny turned to see not only a squad of transit cops, including the pair who’s tried to stop Lyja boarding, but some M.E.U.P. patrol officers, decked out in their blue armour and tactical gear caps. None of them looked happy. 

“Mr. Tropical Storm?” one of the E.U.P.s squinted, recognising him. 

“Yeah!” Johnny beamed optimistically, tapping his 4 logo to confirm. “Cool, so listen, I can explain!” 

He hesitated, wondering why he’d put it that way, then wondering what by the grace of Celestia and Luna he was supposed to say here? ‘You see, officer, I may look crazy but only because I’ve been chasing down a little green pony from outer space. Mondays, amiright?’

Probably wouldn't fly. Among other things it was Thursday. 

“We have reports of fires, sir,” the apparent E.U.P. leader said gravely.

“Pretty sure you vaulted some turnstiles too,” one of the transit cops said with equal gravitas. Her eyes flicked to the bathroom door and widened. “...why are you hanging outside the ladies rest room?!”  

Johnny saw some tourists lifting their cameras, completing the day.  


4


“And you’re sure this is her?” Twilight Sparkle asked, shifting through a series of file papers in her telekinetic field. 

“Didn’t have much to go on, but yeah,” an out of uniform Shining Armour said, “this might be the Starlight Glimmer you’re looking for. Or the town she’s from, anyway.”

“That’s absolutely her cutie mark.” Twilight stopped frowning at the registry list, the marks of all residents in one column, to hold a sheet with photos from the town’s brochure up to the light of her new study windows. “It looks so normal…” 

“Yeah, well, so does Ponyville,” Shining smirked, then folded his ears as his little sister side-eyed him like their mother. He cleared his throat and tried to turn instinctively straightening his posture into adopting more authoritative body language. “Listen, I’m fine sharing these files but promise me you girls aren’t gonna go hunting this pony down yourselves.”

“We don’t hunt ponies down!” Twilight protested. “We…” She had to think about it. “It’s more like stuff just happens to us!” 

“You found her,” Shining pointed out, with a raised eyebrow. 

“The Cutie Map found her,” Twilight corrected. 

“Oh good, you’ve named it.”

“I sent you a report!” 

“You included it in the letter telling Princess Celestia you all went running off to the middle of nowhere because a lightshow told you to,” Shining retorted, trying not to sound either too maternal or too churlish.  

Outside, through a window behind him, a basketball whipped past. Twilight tried to keep her expression neutral and began reorganising the files.  “A lightshow made of our cutie marks. What would you have done?” 

“That’s different! I’m captain!” 

“Yes, well, I remember when you wanted to be an astropony,” Twilight teased, levitating the Sire’s Hollow file onto her desk. “Seriously, thanks. How’d you find this place?”

“Her dad came to us, actually,” Shining mused. “She just kinda vanished after signing up for some charity work. Plenty of pink ponies in Equestria, but his description sounded close enough to your bulletin that the local E.U.P. rangers passed it onto my office. We’re trying to pull her school records, see what we’re dealing with.”

“Somepony very good,” Twilight said, making sure that fact was clear. 

“Sounds it but I doubt she’s take-on-an-entire-E.U.P.-squad good.” 

“She doesn’t have to be, not if she can rip their special talents away from them. Though I’m working on a way around that.” Twilight brightened. “You should see the castle’s lab! I mean, it’s no Spark Inspirations and I miss the smell of tree roots like the dickens, but gosh, so much leg room! I have more than one bench now!” 

“Just so long as you’re not spinning too many plates,” Shining chuckled as he sat up. He tapped the one of several cardboard boxes around the room he’d been using as a seat. “You haven’t even unpacked your new furniture yet!” 

“It’s not my fault the world’s so fascinating!” Twilight huffed, shooing him out into the hallway. “And this place is huge, we’re still finding spaces to fill.” 

Shining frowned as she magically pulled the door closed behind them. “How’re you doing for money?”

“Fine.”

“You know Princess Celestia would be more than happy to--”

“And I’m still well within my budget,” Twilight smiled, a little primly. “Even taking on some university gigs, which should make up for all those orders, not that Spike and I don’t appreciate everypony’s donations. Contributions. You know what I mean.” 

“We’d be happy to give you a loan.” Shining tried to put a hoof on his sister’s shoulder but they were beginning to descend her castle’s T-Rex spine of a spiral staircase. “Twily, we get it. Candy didn’t want anypony expecting her not to earn her own bits just because she was a princess either, but you’re trying to replace so much and you don’t have a steady job right now!” 

“Gee, thanks,” Twilight muttered. 

“What, you’re gonna live off Apple family care packages forever?” Shining paused mid-step. “…okay, bad example.” 

“Our fridge is fully stocked,” Twilight smiled, feeling less defensive (though now a little peckish), “which helps with our grocery bills, which keeps us steady until I can collect those Canterlot lecture fees.” She spread a wing. “They’re not this many zeroes long, but AJ whistled appreciatively when she saw the letter.” 

“Alright, alright,” Shining chuckled, waving a hoof in surrender, “but will you please write to Mom and Dad already? They’ve been on me about this like a couple of horse flies.” 

“I really should have them over some time,” Twilight agreed, nodding to herself. “Spike’d love that! You know how he likes to play tour guide.” 

Her smile wavered slightly as, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a rainbow blur shooting through one room, the doors and windows of which Spike had left open to air out, and out through an also open window of its neighbour. 

“Can’t blame him. This place feels like a giant, fancy theme park,” Shining smirked as he considered the balcony. “Hey, remember when you used to hold him, and I’d levitate you and then we’d all surf the banister?” 

“I remember Mom’s face when she caught us,” Twilight laughed ruefully, then her face went pale as her big brother turned sideways. “Shining, don’t you dare! That’s brand new!” 

“Wahoo!” Shining whooped over the squeal of crystal. 

“Promise me you’re not going to try this with the baby!” Twilight yelled, taking to the air. She flapped after him indignantly, trying to get ahead so she could chide him when he landed but she never got the chance. 

Rarity squealed as she began to ascend the staircase and ducked. It was followed by the squeal of the captain of Canterlot’s royal guard, one of the youngest superior officers in E.U.P. history, trying to stop himself sliding down the banister, a process he now had no control over, without falling off. 

He missed Rarity, but not the unfortunate pony behind her. 

“Are you alright?!” Twilight squawked, hovering above the scene with her hooves over her mouth. 

“Everypony can relax, darling!” Rarity assured, straightening up and dusting herself down. “My mane is fine!” 

“wE’rE hApPy FoR yOu,” Peter Trotter mumbled from beneath his future brother-in-law. 

“Sorry!” Shining grunted, struggling to his hooves. “Uh, new…training regimen! Gotta stay on your hooves with all those Starlight Glimmers out there!” 

Peter squinted, though he accepted the hoof up. “Who?” 

“Sad, drab and tedious to know, darling,” Rarity supplied as Twilight landed. The princess gave her a grateful look. They’d told Peter an abridged version of the Our Town story but didn’t need him making any additions to his rogues gallery on their behalf. 

“Take your word for it,” Peter said, readjusting his saddlebag, then smiled and gripped Shining’s hoof more firmly for a shake. “Oh, hey, congrats, man! Twilight told me the big news!” 

“Thanks!” Shining grinned. “How’s work?” 

“Why?” Peter asked a little too quickly, yanking his hoof back. Twilight felt her Girlfriend-Sense tingling.  

“You gusy’ve been cleaning up after that Tirek thing.” Shining squinted then looked at Twilight. “Just sounded like a big job was all.”

“Oh.” Peter looked relieved, then tried to play it casual, idly swinging his saddlebag. “Eh, it’s not parenthood.” 

Twilight swore by all the power in her horn she’d corner him about that later. Privately, of course. She respected his wishes not to let her big brother in on Spider-Pony’s secret. She’d been lucky those two had made as good an impression on each other as they had, the last thing she needed was the hassle of Shiny finding out she’d spent all this time snuggling with a vigilante he felt, at best, lukewarm about. 

At worst, he’d pout. She didn’t need that, and she certainly didn’t need Peter’s silly song and dance routine towards difficult issues. For one thing it was bad enough when she did it. 

Shining looked between her and Peter. “On that note, can I borrow your portal real quick? You’ve still got it, right?” 

“Uh, set it up a few days ago,” Twilight agreed. “Why? Do you need something in Manehattan?” 

“Hay dogs and cheesecake,” Shining said grimly. “Just in case.” He noticed both Rarity and Peter’s nonplussed expressions and shrugged. “Came to town to catch up and grab some local cuisine Candy likes. Trying to stock up as much as we can for the cravings!”

“Very progressive,” Rarity said dryly. She turned to Twilight. “I popped in to ask if you know Rainbow Dash and Johnnycake Storm are playing basketball with your castle, darling?”

“I know,” Twilight sighed. 

“…and you didn’t stop them?” 

“Johnny’s here too?” Shining asked. 

“He and Rainbow Dash are talking again,” Twilight clarified. “They practice together now and then. It’s nice to see!” 

“Gotta have a word with that guy,” Shining muttered, turning towards the foyer. 

“Ooh, live theatre!” Rarity rubbed her hooves together and skipped after him. “Ciao, dears!”



***

“Step into my parlour?” Twilight asked Peter, indicating its door with her head. 

“Anytime.” 

She enjoyed the feel of his kiss, even if only on her cheek, and draped a wing over him. Partly to stop him trying to escape when she got real. Her plans were slightly delayed by the fact they entered a closet, not the parlour. She was still getting used to this darn place! 

“Coffee?” Peter asked when they finally opened the correct door. And he wondered why she kept him around. 

“Sure!” Twilight smiled, then shook her head. “Ah, wait, we’re out. I was going to pick some up from Sugar Cube Corner tomorrow.” 

“Could skip back to the city and grab some for you, assuming Cadence isn’t craving that too.” 

“You watch yourself, buster.” She prodded him, teasingly yet firmly, into a chair and hopped into her own, putting on her Teaching Aid face. “How is work? And don’t waste my time, I saw you make that face.” 

Peter blinked at her. “What face?” 

“Peter.” 

“Alright!” She settled back to wait as he stalled for time by taking off his saddlebag. (Huh, maybe they could’ve left it in the closet…) He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, yeah, I…had to make a decision today.”

“A big one?” Twilight asked gently, placing her hoof on his. She didn’t regret the long-distance aspects of their relationship, if anything her magic had conquered those almost immediately, but it did keep creeping up on her that, well, there were parts of their lives that went on without the other. 

If Peter hadn’t been Spider-Pony she’d have been the one asking him to wait for her as she dealt with the Starlight Glimmers of the world, or the more recent issue of this castle being dropped in her lap. Their life stories were now intertwined, in a way very much to her liking, but there were still chapters they didn’t know about. And both stories were ongoing. 

Peter mulled the question over a while, eventually giving her hoof a reassuring squeeze. “Pretty big. Would it be okay if we talked about it later? We will, I promise, I just need to lead up to it and, well, it’d be nice to unwind first.” 

“And you came to Ponyville?” Twilight teased. 

“Well, yeah.” She enjoyed the tingle as he slipped a foreleg around her back, gently caressing the space between her wings juuust the way she liked. “You’re here.” 

“Mr. Trotter!” Twilight chuckled, placing her hooves on his chest. “I’m a pillar of the community! Think of the scandal if anypony were to see me do, say, this!” 

She nuzzled his neck and giggled as she felt one of his hind legs start to twitch. 

“Good point,” Peter murmured. “That closet was nice and secluded…”

“Everypony’s outside and I can just ward the doors shut,” Twilight smirked. 

“Yeah? Prove it.”


5


Rainbow Dash hurled Spike's basketball, bouncing it between crystal spires, then swooped effortlessly around the main tower to catch it. She barrel-rolled to avoid a swiping pair of flaming hooves, effortlessly bouncing it off the edge of the balcony to ricochet into a hovering basketball net made of fire. 

“Are you even trying?” she crowed. 

“Trying to do a lot of things!” The Horseshoe Torch smirked back at her, catching the ball on its second bounce off the pathway. He began feinting left and right, tossing the ball from hoof to hoof as she tried to match him. “Like leave you your dignity! But it’s. Just. Not. Happenin’!” 

Dash lunged, laughing, missing the ball as it hit the spire, tumbling to the balcony and rolling along the railing. 

“Hey!” Spike protested as it almost knocked his popcorn off its perch. 

“Sorry, ref!” both players chorused as they dived after the prize. 

Dash reached the ball first, swatting it out of freefall and through another open window. Johnny swooped upward, streamlining his legs to shoot through the golden heart shaped arch on the roof, trying to intercept the ball as it flew out the open rear window. 

Dash was already there, of course. She clasped her hooves and spiked it straight up, forcing the Torch to yank his chin back to avoid, uh, taking it on the chin. 

They watched as the ball bounced back and forth in the gap between two low prongs of the crystal star that crowned Twilight’s castle, then tumbled onto the branch of the central tower, rolling down it, bouncing off the wall, and tumbled towards the rooftop pool. 

Spike stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled appreciatively as the players raced for it, their slipstream throwing water into the sunshine. Johnny snagged the ball and feinted to the right, shooting it towards the front balcony over Rainbow’s cry of outrage. 

He swooped down, using his blazing tail to swat the ball as it bounced hard off the ledge Equestria’s newest princess used to look over the town that had taught her the greatest magic of all, and fist-pumped as it ricocheted off the flagpole and into the hoop. “Oh yeah! That’s officially a tie!” 

“Yeah, no!” 

Dash shot past, almost whipping out his flames, and caught the ball before it could reach the turf. She easily twisted around his dive to intercept and tossed the ball behind her without looking. It hit Twilight’s weathervane, spinning it around before flying off and passing through the hoop. 

“The Gale from Cloudsdale takes the lead by two points, not only once…” 

They dived for the ball again. She swatted it into a wing with one hoof, Johnny and Spike marvelling as she spun it on the tip, keeping herself aloft with her other wing, and began to spiral towards the ground. 

Now upside down, Dash lashed out a foreleg, grabbing one of the bejewelled tassels under the side balcony and swinging herself back and forth, the ball still clutched in her wing until she kicked her hind legs out. She swung up, almost startling Spike off his seat, and used both wings to launch the ball in a perfect arc through the net. 

“But twice!” Dash whooped as she swung back down, still clutching her makeshift line and flapping her wings to keep from crashing into the wall. 

“Ten minutes on the clock!” Spike called, checking an hourglass. “And Manehattan is trailing by four points!” 

“My magic number!” Johnny sneered, arcing upside down for the ball. 

He braked as a blue aura surrounded the ball, making it loop around him before tossing it through the net. 

“And Canterlot wins forever,” Shining Armor smirked at them, catching it under his foreleg. 

“Aw, gyp!” Rainbow Dash chuckled, sliding upside down on her line to dangle like a certain web-slinger. “So making you pay for that next E.U.P. intramural!” 

“Assuming Spitfire lets you out to play,” Shining laughed. “You two know it’s technically illegal to use royal landmarks for this kinda thing, right?” 

“Well, you heard him, Dash,” Johnny sighed, drifting to the ground and flaming off. “Dad says we can’t play anymore!” 

“Okay,” Shining sighed, rolling his eyes as Johnny hugged him. 

“Can you believe this guy?” Johnny asked Rarity over Shining’s shoulder. “Leaving it up to you to tell me about the joyous advent of my own goddaughter?” 

“Johnny, darling,” Rarity smiled patiently, “you know I love you, but you’re you.” 

“And I need to clear some things up with you,” Shining said firmly, looping his own foreleg around Johnny’s shoulder before he could try to escape. 

“Can I at least have my ball back?” Spike called from the balcony. Shining levitated it up as he marched Johnny to the steps. 

“Wanna grab popcorn?” Dash asked, dropping from her line to land in Rarity’s path before she could follow them. Johnny gave her a grateful look. She must’ve seen the way his ear twitched at Rarity’s joke. And at which part specifically. 


***


“What’s this about you flying at eye level in the subway?” Shining asked, unable to keep the sternness out of his voice. 

“I was chasing somepony.” Johnny shrugged, trying not to sound too defensive. “Look, I know. But she’s dangerous.” 

“She. Well, that explains the other complaints on my desk,” Shining sighed, rubbing the back of his neck like Johnny was a highly specific kink to work out. 

“What complaints?” Rarity asked behind them, Rainbow’s distraction having only briefly slowed her down. 

“That’s classified, ma’am,” Shining mumbled, blushing. All it did was whet her appetite.

“Y’know, this figures,” Johnny grumbled, folding his forelegs. “She’s been jumping me for months, and the first time it comes up you’re chewing me out.”

“Did you file anything with us?” Shining countered, returning his frown. “Not that that’s the issue here.”

Johnny threw his hooves to the sky in frustration. “From the horse’s mouth!” 

“Nice try. Your flyer’s licence is part of a highly specialised legislation Celestia had to throw together for ponies like you. And you know all about it’s conditions.” Shining took a step towards him, glaring. “If you don’t abide by those conditions it’s not just your licence that gets pulled. Half the ponies you work with could lose the right to E.U.P. airspace! Did that ever occur to you?” 

“Please!” Johnny scoffed, the immediate air temperature beginning to rise with his temper. “It’s not like parliament hasn’t wanted you to yank it away from us for years!” 

“Yeah, and they’re already telling me that’s what I should do! And that’s not the point either!” Shining stomped a hoof. “Blast it, Johnny! You were flying low, on fire, in the subway! I don’t want to ground you, but what else am I supposed to do if you pull stunts like that?” 

“Ground me?!” Johnny almost laughed. “You serious, man? That whole dad routine was just messing with you!” 

“Messing around over something this serious isn’t helping your case.” 

“Didn’t stop your cute little routine with Spike’s ball!” 

“Do you want me to pull your licence?” 

“You can’t do that!”

“Uh, actually,” Dash cut in, flapping awkwardly in the air as they both rounded on her, “he can. Captain of the royal guard. He’d need at least two senior officers from other branches to weigh in and Spitfire’s absolutely gonna sign off on it when she hears about…whatever this is.” 

“Oh, thanks a bunch, buddy!” Johnny snapped. Sparks flickered at the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Dash shot back. 

“Same here,” Shining said, trying to take back control of the conversation. “Look man, we’re friends. But Rainbow’s right, I’m also one of the most senior officers in the E.U.P. I can’t just ignore this, and no matter what I do ponies are going to say you’ll get off lightly because we’re friends.” 

“That can change,” Johnny muttered darkly. 

“Darling!” Rarity protested. 

“What?!” Johnny bugged his eyes at her, glaring between her and Rainbow Dash. “Y’know how long it’s been since we talked? Really talked? And the first thing he does is hold my hooves to the fire for Lyja’s pucky! Whatta pal!” 

Dash squinted. “What’s a Lyja?” 

“That…would explain the conflicting descriptions,” Shining sighed, looking contemplatively at his hooves. He made a face. “Man, I hate E.T. stuff. Half the people I ought to be talking to are in another solar system and depending on the day it might be illegal for us to talk at all!” 

“What’s a Lyja?” Dash insisted. 

“A beastly creature that makes it hard to maintain a sense of decorum,” Rarity supplied, gently placing a hoof on Johnny’s shoulder. She was looking at him with concern. “She’s stalking you again?” 

“Unfortunately,” Johnny smirked bitterly, then shut his eyes. He exhaled and opened them, patting her hoof in gratitude. “But yeah, shoulda kept my cool. I just…I wanna finally nail her so bad! She’s almost as slippery as my last agent! I’m sorry Shining, I’ll totally throw together a report, but all I’ve gotta say is it’s hard not to break out all the stops, y’know? ‘Cause trust me, she’s going full crazy all the time!” 

“Sounds like my kinda gal!” Rainbow Dash grinned, rubbing her hooves together. “Tirek was kinda a hoof-full, even for me, but us Elements could use some rogues!”

“Not like Lyja you don’t,” Johnny muttered. 

“Wait,” said a stallion's voice from around the corner, “your ex?” 

The group craned their necks to see Peter Trotter and Twilight Sparkle sticking their heads out through the open parlour windows. 

“Seriously!” Shining whined, conjuring his badge to hold it up. “Classified! A little respect, people!” 

“I’m a princess,” Twilight protested, “it’s okay if I listen in!” She looked askance. “Y’know. Now.” 

“Sorry,” Peter winced, trying for an abashed grin. 

Johnny looked around at the expressions everypony was making, giving in to hysterical laughter. He pounded his chest to get himself under control before Dash or Shining did anything to him. “Alright, alright,” he sighed, “y’know what, it’s too good a day.” 

He put his hooves on Shining shoulders. “Have your people call my people.” 

“Let your sister know?” Shining smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Now there’s an idea.” 

“What we had used to be so beautiful!” Johnny faux-pouted. They clasped hooves. “For real, man. Get in touch and I’ll sit down for an inquiry or whatever. Do what you’ve gotta do.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Shining nodded, not quite as stone faced as he could be. “Your licence might get reviewed but it could be worse. I’m gonna have to ask for your history with this Lyja, since this sounds super personal. I need to know where your head was at.” 

“Could loan ya some spelunking equipment,” Dash quipped, making Rarity and Twilight crack up. Peter mimed applause with a solemn nod. 

“Fine,” Johnny huffed, turning his nose up in a Rarity worthy gesture, “I know when I’m not wanted!” He opened one eye to address Shining. “My license is still good until you can officially call whatever this is turning into, yeah?” 

“Technically this is my day off,” Shining smiled ruefully. “But yeah, you’ve got a head start. Promise me not to do anything too crazy.” 

He raised a hoof as Johnny opened his mouth for a quip. “I mean it! Help me to help you!” 

“Just wanna enjoy it while I can!” Johnny protested. He flamed on and performed a lazy loop-de-loop. “A few last hours of freedom! Spreading my hypothetical wings so I can spread joy and laughter far and wide!” 

“This could be interesting,” Rarity mused, stepping to his side. The Torch’s eyes darted to Rainbow Dash. 

“How?” she quickly scoffed. “He hasn’t even said what he’s gonna do or whatever. You want interesting, I can tell ya all about how Tank saved Fleetfoot’s bacon while you patch up this hole in my uniform.” 

“But-but-but…intrigue!” Rarity sputtered. She held out for a beat, but folded. “Oh, fine! Propriety insists fashion and friendship take priority!” 

She jabbed a hoof under Johnny’s blazing chin as if holding him at knifepoint. “But whatever you get up to, I want all the juicy details.” 

“Oh yeah, Juicy Details, that’s the ice cream Candy likes!” Shining grinned, flicking his tail in relief. “Ugh, that was driving me nuts. Peter said it’s cool if I use your apartment to grab her some stuff too?” 

“Sure, give her my love,” Johnny agreed. He flew around to the front doors, gave them a shove, and blinked as purple runes flickered across their crystal surface, shoving him backwards. “Hey!” 

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” Twilight flapped out to join him above the steps, her horn glowing. “Heh, warded them!” 

“Why?”

“…reasons,” Twilight squeaked as the runes dissolved, avoiding eye contact with a leering Rarity and Dash. They turned it on Peter, still at the window, who mimed looking at a watch he didn’t have before sauntering out of sight. 

“Take care, everypony!” Shining called, waving to them as he set off for Ponyville Plaza. He paused, smirking at Johnny over his shoulder. “Did you seriously throw ice cream at this alien invader lady?” 

“Make me godfather and every secret I have is yours,” Johnny promised, widening his plasma sheathed eyes for maximum sincerity. 

“Buh-bye,” Shining scoffed, trotting off. 

“De. Tails,” Rarity hissed at Johnny, sternness mixing with hunger as she followed the captain. “See you at the boutique, Rainbow. Twilight, you and Peter behave yourselves or it’s straight to bed without supper!” 

Twilight muttered darkly to herself as she pushed one of her doors open and flapped inside. 

“Thanks,” Johnny sighed as he floated up to Rainbow Dash. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dash muttered, “just get over it already, huh? I’m working two jobs now and jumping between you guys for free isn’t one of ‘em!” 

“I’m working on it,” Johnny hastily assured. “Seriously, hanging out with you again’s been great. Not just ‘cause…y’know.” 

“I know,” Dash sighed, heading off. “But the sooner you can trust yourself to be alone with Rarity, the better, alright? Gotta go rip a hole in my Wonderbolt uniform thanks to you.” 

“Pizza's on me!” Johnny called, waving as she began to accelerate towards the clouds. “For…I dunno, at least the next century!” 


***

He floated inside, pausing to get his bearings. The foyer of Castle…Whatever Twilight Was Eventually Gonna Name This Bad Boy was classy as all get out, but everypony was still getting their bearings. Was the room she’d set up for her and Pete’s portal on the left or the right? 

“The left.” Johnny looked up to see Peter sticking to the ceiling. “So what’s this about your ex?” 

“What about my ex?” Johnny said casually, forming a flame construct behind him. It was a burning stop sign that read ‘DON’T’.

“Hey, I’ve been there.” Peter dropped off the ceiling, springing off the floor to perch on the baluster of Twilight’s staircase. “C’mon, you used to love yanking my chain about the Black Sphinx! Remember? I jacked the tires off your new kart for revenge?” 

“Halcyon days!” Johnny sighed mock-wistfully, swinging open the portal room door. Like most of the castle it wasn’t fully furnished yet, but Twilight and Spike had set up some comfortable chairs, flowers in a vase by the window, and, oh, wasn’t that precious, they’d tapped up a little I ♥ Manehattan poster! 

Peter pressed his hooves to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “Going back to the city to try and hunt down whatsherface before the E.U.P. hauls your butt in for a tribunal, because even if taking her in doesn’t get you outta the hot-seat it’ll at least be satisfying.” 

Johnny watched despondently as he hunted through his saddlebag, pulling out a scrap of paper. “What is the most Johnnycake Storm move possible?” 

“Don’t try to talk me out of this,” Johnny warned. 

“Au contraire, mi amigo!” Peter beamed, whipping out his mask. “I seek to help, not hinder.” 

“Same difference but go on,” the Torch smirked, rising a blazing eyebrow. 

“Two webs are better than one.” Peter shrugged. “And I’ve got all the webs!” 

“Shining asked me not to get up to anything,” Johnny agreed, “and who in their right mind would mistake you for me?” 

“That’s sorta the idea.” Peter was half in costume now, lashing his tail to give it the untidy style Spider-Pony favoured, which surely Peter Trotter would never adopt. “If this Skrull knows everything there is to know about you, the guy who tried to use Sapphire Shores’ party for finding her long lost birth-mother to hock his new autobiography—”

“That was a schedule mix up!” Johnny insisted. 

“—then maybe she’s not ready for a surprise visit to Mr. Spider-Pony’s neighbourhood.” 

“The idea of watching you get shot at instead has a certain appeal.” The Torch gazed as his shimmering reflection in the crystal floor. “And I take it you’re not gonna open the portal up unless I agree to this?” 

“So it’s a date!” Peter finished pulling on his gloves and reached for his mask. 

“Interesting choice of words.” A violet aura pushed the door open a little wider and levitated Spider-Pony's ruffled face into Twilight Sparkle’s hooves. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Friendship is magic?” Peter grinned weakly. 

“We were going to have a little talk of our own before…” Twilight’s frown wavered slightly as she looked at Johnny then at Spike, who’d padded in to see what all the fuss was about, and cleared her throat. “Before Shining and…everything.” 

“Oh. Right. Uh…”

“Make it up to her with dinner, you dope,” Johnny muttered, admiring his blazing hoof. 

Peter gave Twilight a wider, nervous, cajoling grin. 

“I accept your terms,” she sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling. 

She telekinetically passed him his mask. Before he'd finished pulling it on she trotted up to him, sharing a kiss. Magic danced around their bodies, down through their legs and into the floor, their own personal love ley line silently bursting open into a glowing portal.

“You’re the best, honey,” Spider-Pony smiled, pulling his mask over his muzzle. “And we will talk, I promise. This was…a pretty big decision, but you’ll understand when you hear it. I know you will.” 

“Be back by seven,” Twilight chuckled, “I’ll whip something up.”

“Sure,” Spike muttered, folding his arms, “you’ll whip something up.”

“Just be sure you don’t feed him after midnight,” the Horseshoe Torch said and winked at them as Spider-Pony flipped backwards into the light of the portal, vanishing in a sprinkle of stardust that sounded like taxi horns. 

“Oh, good luck with Lyja and your licence!” Twilight called, waving. “We’re all rooting for you!” 

“Thanks, it means a lot!” The Torch saluted her as he dived in after his roommate. 


***

“And I guess I’ll have to clean up after everypony, too,” Spike groused. The portal slammed itself shut like a steel door, the magic disturbing the air in the room and rattling windows. He winced as some furniture, books and Peter’s saddle bag tumbled off their perches onto the still sparkling floor. “Aw geez!” 

“It’s the castle,” Twilight wined apologetically, rubbing one ear as they stepped in to begin cleaning up. “It’s all these crystals, magic conducts differently from room to room. I’m still working it out.” 

“Eh, you’ll get it.” Spike used his tail to sweep some books into a pile. “What’d you like for dinner?” 

“Hmm,” Twilight mused, stamping down on some sparkles before attempting to put a chair back up, “maybe something Istallion. How did you like that new butchers on Daytrip Road?”

“The griffin place?” Spike blinked. “What, you wanna eat…?! I-I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with…what am I saying, yes there is!”

“What?! No!” Twilight laughed incredulously. “I just meant I could take a crack at it and you could whip up something for yourself! You know, for tonight!” 

“Oh!” Spike wiped a relived brow across his forehead. 

Life had been through enough changes as far as he was concerned, he did not need a fundamental breakdown in herbivore nature. 

He brightened, reminding himself a lot of those changes had been pretty good. For starters, the presence of a princess and brand spanking new landmark was doing wonders for Ponyville. Tourism was rising, but not unreasonably, and some new chains were contemplating investment in the town. Since the castle would mean the presence of diplomats, or even just curious creatures from other lands, the mayor felt it prudent to broaden the town’s dining options. 

Diplomats, Spike knew from Canterlot experience, would at least give the appearance of enjoying pony vegetarian fare if it was the only thing on offer. Tourists and some of the other creatures that passed through Ponyville had no such need for decorum and preferred capital M meat. The most they could usually settle for was fish and baked goods. 

One of the results was that a griffon couple, from a big-time family of chefs up the coast, had gratefully accepted the mayor’s offer to open their own business in town. They had skills in both fields, naturally, so while their restaurant specialised in standard (actually a little above) herbivore delights they supplemented it with a small butcher’s shop, selling their unused meat supplies to other creatures. 

It was working out for all involved so far. Supply wagon drivers who’d usually pass through Ponyville in hopes of a more satisfying meal in Canterlot, which had it’s own meat packing district somewhere in the Undercity, were now happy to rest their weary paws and enjoy a burger or ribs. The ponies were happy for their business and just avoided eye contact or asking any questions. There'd been some tension when diamond dogs from the surrounding hills began dropping by to pick some up, but their gems were as shiny as anypony else’s and Rarity had made it clear she wouldn’t have a problem if they didn’t. 

The result was not only were the griffons and drivers happy, Spike had spent the past few weeks enjoying the option of meat consistently since leaving Canterlot. 

“Sure!” he decided, scooping up Peter’s saddlebag. “I mean, if you’d be good with the smell.” 

“I thought I’d try out those scented candles Fluttershy gave us,” Twilight smiled to herself. 

“Want any help picking out music?” Spike leered. “’Cause I got a good one! ♪First comes love, then com—whoa!” 

His foot had landed on one of the scattered books, sending them both skidding. Twilight flinched as her special little guy tumbled to the floor, the saddlebag flying out of his hands. Spike flinched guiltily as Peter’s personal items scattered. He scooped up a set of keys, his other paw darting for a small box, unable to catch whatever rolled out of it. 

“I got it, I got it!” he assured, bundling more stuff. He held up the box. “Can you grab whatever this…is…” 

He stopped dead, fins going limp as he saw what Twilight was staring down at. What had been flung from its box, rolled across the floor and come to rest at her right hoof. 

It was a wedding ring. 


To be Continued 

> Squirm Notice (2)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


6


“So,” Spider-Pony asked, swinging above Yancy Street, “if I were a shapeshifting alien with an unhealthy need to follow the most overrated celebrity in the tri-stable area around, where would I be? More accurately, where would you be?” 

“Hmm.” Flying alongside, the Horseshoe Torch mulled it over. “Dunno. I’m usually asleep by now.” 

A beat. 

“Okay,” Spidey said diplomatically, “what about patterns? Hot spots?” 

“Marketing said it sound too suggestive,” Johnny sighed wistfully as they looped around the Blue Tower, “and I’d make more money modelling somepony else’s line than handling my own. We also didn’t have anything with polka dots, so the name didn’t make much sense.” 

“Great Pony save me…” Spidey alighted on a semaphore tower’s crossbeam, staying put so the Torch had to brake and turn to keep the conversation going. “I mean is there any kind of link between these attacks?”

“It’s like a bad sitcom,” Johnny growled, folding his blazing forelegs. “I’ll go out somewhere, have a good time, and then bam! Lyja! Laser lashing! She’s ruined laser tag forever, Pete! My 10th birthday, gone! Just like that!” 

“Alright,” Spidey sighed, “before I tell the Hulk she looks fat in those pants and end it all, one last question. What do you mean by a good time?” 

His tail whipped up like a hand as Johnny took a breath. “Note: I’m asking if it’s always a party or something.”

“Sometimes…” Johnny mused, frowning into the middle distance as he searched his memory. “A lot happens to me in clubs but now you mention it, Lyja’s been at more than a few of them.” 

“That where she jumped you today?” 

“Yeah, got an invite to this retro place. She tried to trap me in a disco ball laser grid.” 

“Huh.” Spidey stroked his chin. “Sounds almost like one of my rouges. Relax, this is still about you! But that's practically a Mysterio special, which takes a lot of set up. Could she have had access to the place before you showed up?” 

“Maybe? I got an exclusive invite--”

“Did anypony else?” 

“Uh…” Johnny blinked, then his flames grew hotter. “Man, all the other guests were Skrulls!” 

“So Lyja knew what kind of bait to use!” Spidey said a touch too cheerfully. “Bet if we hunt through your mail we’ll find more ‘exclusive invites’, which we can coordinate with venues/deathtraps. Hay, if she’s using the same distribution service or printing shop then we’ve got a return address! Maybe not hers, but we’ll have one of her aliases!” 

“Well, we would,” Johnny countered, struggling with the alien sensation of awkwardness, “if I, ah, didn’t burn my junk mail to save space.” 

Spidey did that one big eye, one little eye thing at him. 

“What?!” the Torch protested. “I’m thinking of the environment!” 

“Hate that that almost makes sense,” Spidey muttered. “Alright, you at least pack a little black book to keep track of your swaggerthons?” 

“Please! How long have you known me?” Johnny smirked, retrieving his flame-proofed planner from its magically shrunken pocket in his collar and tossing it to the web-head. 

“Alri—yiiii, hot, hot, hot!” Spidey fumbled it between his hooves before it cooled enough for him to properly grip, glaring at the Torch, who formed a flame halo to rub it in. He flipped through a few pages. “Man, your mouth-writing is flawless yet I have no idea what I’m looking at.” 

“Dates,” Johnny said, raising an eyebrow at the seeming obtuseness. 

“Nah, they're too long to be...oh, right.” Spidey flipped another page. “What’re these, lil’ doodles of their cutie marks?”

“Only the memorable ones!” Johnny performed a lazy mid-air loop-de-loop, trying to cope with the mounting irritation of just hovering. “C’mon, what’s taking so long?” 

“I’m staring into your psyche without protective goggles,” Spidey muttered, then held the planner out. “These last couple entries, these’re before Lyja jumped you today?” 

Johnny raised a blazing eyebrow. “Uh huh…?” 

“And this cutie mark and these numbers I’m going to assume are her area code, because one of us’ll have to be embarrassed about them and it’s not gonna be you; this is her disguise for the day?”

“She pulled a couple when I tried to run her down, but yeah,” Johnny agreed, deliberately not mentioning her Rainbow Dash impression. 

“Think you’d recognise it if she used it again?”

“I never forget a pretty face,” Johnny smiled with terrible sincerity. 

“Oh really?” Spidey ran a hoof down the rest of the column, all the ponies and parties before Lyja’s latest trap. “How about all the ones she was wearing before? If you can match cutie marks and, okay, dress sizes--”

“Sometimes!” Johnny corrected sharply. “Other times it’s eye lash number, hair length, shoe size, makeup brand, even their area code.”

“Somehow better and worse…” Spidey blinked until his brain was back on track. “Point is if can you match these details up with a Lyja attack you’ve got a lot of things. Some of her disguises, types of places she lures you to, hay, maybe even a search radius. I mean, she’s gotta be somewhere in the city, right?”  

“Skrulls aren’t as snooty as the Kree,” Johnny mused, “those guys would never settle for hiding out down here longer than they had to. Skrulls will even straight up get into the property game.” He blinked. “In fact…Lyja’s big comeback was when I was apartment hunting! She set up a whole fake place for me!” 

“Yeesh!” Spidey winced. “And I thought Fera was possessive. Wait, wait, wait, if she knew you were looking--"

“The E.U.P. checked that out,” the Torch cut in, shaking his head, “and they didn’t find anything. Well, no, they found the pony she’d been impersonating. They signed her up for a cruise to get her out of the city.” 

“Methodical,” Spidey mused. Johnny swooped after him as he sprang from his perch and resumed swinging. “Any idea how the Skrulls knew you’d be at that specific place?” 

“Reed’s spells sweep for bugs all the time.” The Torch almost overshot his partner but slowed to fly alongside, turning on his back with his hooves behind his head. “Every now and then there’s a few E.T. one’s, but this is still a dead end. We checked out the agency and Lyja only infiltrated them to set up that deal. And it’s not like ponies didn’t know I was looking. I even made a pitch reel.” 

“Do the world a favour: never, ever make your own true or false game. It’ll last for months.” 

They began weaving through the supports of the Knightsburg bridge, startling a few out of towners while native Manehattanites kept right on contemplating the Nicks’ chances this season. They were quiet, not from needing to concentrate on such a simple (for them) stunt but because Johnny sensed Spidey’s own silence was more ruminating. 

“So is it worth checking out that apartment?” the web-head asked eventually. “Any possible leads?” 

“Nothing the E.U.P. won’t have bagged. Don’t think they’ve even let the place back on the market yet.” 

“Hey, look on the bright side, you still managed to become a property owner.” 

“Thanks, roomie,” Johnny smiled. “So where are we going?”

“Only other lead you’ve got!” Spidey dived off his latest beam, using twin web-lines to haul himself over the last few before they officially entered the city. “Lyja’s disco of doom!” 

“Okay, good idea,” the Torch said patiently, pulling alongside him as his swing poses became more dynamic, “but it’s in Midtown. Back the other way.”

“…oh.”

“And gimme my book back!” 


7


Fluttershy whistled to herself as her animal friends continued to supply her with new planks and nails. Angel kept his place at the front of the queue, unsmiling as he passed each fresh material from its dancing deliverer. Someone had to be a professional around here!

“And I think…we’re done!” Fluttershy announced. She cheerfully struck the last plank with the hammer in her wing. It didn’t even wobble. “Um…” 

Harry the Bear rumbled kindly and leaned over to shove it firmly into the dirt. 

“Aww, thank you!” Fluttershy grinned, though it wavered slightly as she looked up and down the row of the completed enclosure. “But now it doesn’t quite match…”

Some of her, um, heftier animals friends made helpful noises and waddled over, using their strength to shove the last few planks down.

“Oh wow!” Fluttershy blinked, hovering off the ground to take in the entire scene. “It matches and actually looks sort of…playful! Thanks everyone!” 

She landed as the animals made appreciative noises. Angel hopped up to take a stern place besides her foreleg. All he was missing was a bouncer’s outfit. 

“I mean it,” Fluttershy smiled as she looked all around at the creatures, great and small. “I know this wasn’t the sanctuary I promised you.” She sighed, looking at the ground. “And it’ll be a while before we can get there…but this is a little place for all of us, and it’s all the better for your help!” 

Her friends chittered and barked and screeched in applause. 

“And while we’re all here…” Fluttershy blushed and scuffed the grass. Angel patted her foreleg gently and she smiled, resolve strengthened. “I want to apologise. No, really, you’re all being very kind, but I should. Applejack was right, I have been relying on Discord just making things happen too much. I was so determined to whip up the perfect place for you that I didn’t take any time to ask you what you wanted. What you needed! And what we have now is so much better because we all made it together! It’s one thing to make something for a friend, but if you don’t include them in even just the smallest part of it then it’s not really for them, it’s all about you! I’ve got a lot to think about after today…oh, but, heh, I see you’re all eager to unwind, so!” 

She happily took a line in her teeth and used it to tug the gates open. She juddered in place, on and off the ground, as paws and hooves stampeded past in a small localised earthquake. “Hey now! One at a time! I know everyone’s excited, but really!” 

She chuckled as small hippos ferried smaller reptiles on their backs in a pool, and birds dragged and released the cords of a homemade swing set, allowing monkeys and rodents to enjoy themselves. Angel looked up at her expectantly, arms folded and one foot tapping.

“I know, I know!” Fluttershy chuckled. “Talk is cheap. I should get this down for our journal while it’s still fresh.” 

Angel smiled and hopped alongside her as she headed towards the road. “And if anypony will appreciate a lesson about not using magic to take the easy way out, it’ll be—”

The world went purple. 

“—Twilight,” Fluttershy mumbled. 

“Agh,” the Element of Magic said, staring straight through her. Some remaining teleportation sparkles danced around her like fireflies before tumbling to the grass. Through her own shock Fluttershy realised she was tracking them so well because Twilight was completely rigid. Oop, no, apart from the occasional twitch of her wings. 

“Twilight!” Fluttershy rallied. “How nice! I was just coming to see you.” 

“Agh.”

“…you’re right.” Fluttershy tried to hide behind her hair. “It’s not like I’m anypony special. How presumptuous of me!” 

“Agh.” 

“Twilight?” Fluttershy blinked at her friend. She could sort of feel a silent scream going on behind that motionless purple face. “Is something the matter?”

Twilight nodded. “Agh!” 

“Is anypony hurt? Should we be underground?” Fluttershy’s eyes widened as she tried to match worse case scenarios to that expression and the one presented itself. “Is Trixie back in town?!”

“Agh-ha-ha,” Twilight sort of laughed rigidly, still staring dead ahead, and levitated something out of her wing pocket. Fluttershy almost recoiled but realised it wasn’t some sort of bomb. It was…a small box?

“Oh, um, very nice!” she tried. “What is that, velvet? I’m sure Rarity would like it!” 

“Nyagh!” Twilight barked, which was some kind of progress. 

“Um…”

“Agh.” A purple aura crawled over the box and tremulously lifted the lid. 

Fluttershy had to squint from all the shaking and once she made it out it should have been obvious. “Oooh, that’s lovely! Rarity would really like…” Her synapses froze then began trying to double back to make sense of what that ring implied and the strange new universe it seemed to be calling into being. “…that.” 

“Agh!” Twilight agreed, nodding again. 

A beat, no sound except the incongruous joy of Fluttershy’s animal friends enjoying their new park. 

“…I’ll make tea,” Fluttershy decided, channelling her mother. 

Angel rolled his eyes as she shuffled off, leaving Twilight behind, and hopped around the paralysed princess to begin pushing.


***


Twilight was still staring into nothing by the time Fluttershy finished preparing their drinks, the open engagement box still bobbing in the air by her horn. The Pegasus sat down on the couch beside her friend, looked left and right briefly, then tentatively reached up to close the lid. It felt oddly like burying a living thing. 

Silence continued for a beat, but tea had been invoked which overwrote the Shy family’s instinct to stay in its natural habitat. A good host showed interest, after all! 

“So did Peter--” Fluttershy began, despite having no screaming idea under the sun what she was supposed to say. 

“It came from his saddlebag,” Twilight babbled, jerking back to life. She laughed drunkenly. “Wow, when I say it like that it sounds like a really underwhelming B-movie, huh?!” 

“Um…”

“It came from his saddlebag!” Twilight repeated giddily. “Son of the thing from the saddlebag! The saddlebag rides again! Kaput and Concerto meet the Saddlebag Thing!” 

“Are you alright?” Fluttershy asked.

“I don’t know.” Twilight ran a hoof through her mane. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I’m sorry for dumping this on you, I just teleported.”

“It’s okay, I’m here!” Fluttershy assured, putting a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. She could feel tension in those new wing muscles building like electric current. Any sudden moves were liable to send Twilight crashing through her roof. She thought quickly. 

“Um. Al-alright, did Peter actually say anything about…whatever this is? Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you if…y-you know. It just seems, well, a bit sudden, Ihopeyoudon’tmindmesayingso.” 

She shrank under the weight of her presumptuousness, but Twilight didn’t turn her bones to glass or anything. In fact, the Alicorn was so quiet Fluttershy straightened up, concerned. She wondered how to get Twilight to make eye contact, things always went so much better when they could just know they were all there for each other. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Twilight said distantly after a while. She turned as Fluttershy gently stroked her wings. “I don’t know what to do, Fluttershy.” 

“You don’t have to do anything!” Fluttershy almost kicked herself over that wording. “I mean, that is, oh dear. Um, this is a shock, if you’ll pardon my language, it’s absolutely okay that you’re a bit…out of sorts! I know I would be!” 

“You’re right.” Twilight gripped her hoof, a bit tightly but at least she didn’t seem to be about to cry or anything. “Oh sun and moon, I feel like Tirek just tackled me all over again!”

“Do you want to lie down?” Fluttershy asked quickly, squeezing her hoof and trying to check her pulse. 

“I…” Twilight’s eyes flicked to the side as she thought about it. “I want to crawl into a volcano and pull it shut behind me. Is that normal?” 

“It is when you’re this stressed,” Fluttershy assured. “Come on, lie down.” 

She stood up and helped the Element of Magic assume the position. She felt Twilight trembling slightly and began looking around for a blanket. “Did you need any water? Are you breathing alright? Do you want me to fetch anypony?”

“N-no,” Twilight gripped her hoof, rapidly shaking her head. “I mean, maybe? Should we talk about this? What even is this?!” 

“Shh, shh!” Fluttershy gently stroked her friend's hoof with her free one. “It’s alright. You feel how you feel. This isn’t about anypony else. Take your time.”

She felt the tremors ease in Twilight’s foreleg slightly. She wished she could get a good read on her pulse but it didn’t feel like she needed to gallop for Nurse Readheart yet. She made a note to make sure Twilight drank something. 

“But it is, isn’t it?” Twilight said eventually. She was still making eye contact even as she thought about it, that was a good sign. “I mean, if Peter’s…” She audibly gulped. “Y’know. I have to…I mean, I don’t have to, but I do have to give him an answer!” 

“Needing time is an answer,” Fluttershy assured gently. “Twilight, it’s alright, this is completely out of the blue.”

“Tell me about it!” Twilight giggled hysterically, but she managed get herself under control and sit up, wrapping her forelegs and wings around her hind legs. “Oh sun and moon, he probably didn’t even mean for me to find it. What if he wasn’t going to…y’know…today? But I can’t just put it back!”

“Are you sure?” Fluttershy asked. 

Ponies were different from animals but medicine was medicine. One of the best ways to counter shock was to let them find their own words, help them make themselves part of the scenario. Even just having someone close by could feel like taking back some measure of control. 

“I…yeah. Yes!” Twilight nodded firmly. “It’d be wrong otherwise.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Fluttershy said gently but firmly. 

“No, I know.” Twilight smiled and sighed through her nose. She was maintaining eye contact, which made Fluttershy able to endure this tightrope walking sensation. “It was a silly accident. Spike slipped on a book. It’s just so big, you know?” 

“Of course!” 

Fluttershy instinctively put a wing around her friend. Oh, if only she were a little critter! Petting wouldn’t be enough. In fact, a lot of her immediate instincts felt patronising, but she could hide in her closest from shame later. Right now, Twilight needed her. 

Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional bark or roar from the animal’s new park. 

“…you’re having a party,” Twilight realised. “I should--” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to go anywhere!” Fluttershy tried to push her back into the safety of the sofa without actually, um, pushing. “Do you want me to get the girls? We should probably talk about this.” 

“I guess?” Twilight’s voice began to rise hysterically. “Like, biggest moment of my life, maybe! But it’s Peter’s ri...ri-ri…right to…be involved! As well! So should I?!” 

“We could write to Princess Cadence,” Fluttershy suggested. 

“Oh no we couldn’t,” Twilight practically shrieked, sitting bolt upright. 

Fluttershy sank to the floor, quivering. “O-only to get her advice!” 

“Obviously, but there’s only two pieces of advice she could give!” Twilight hugged her hind legs again. “And I don’t know which one would be worse!” 

“Alright…” Fluttershy licked her lips. They hadn’t gone dry or anything, but she needed to fortify somehow. “What do you want to do?”

A beat. 

Another beat. 

“Explode into a million pieces,” Twilight sighed. 

She took the box in her hooves and flipped it open, looking down on the contents as if she and it were the only two things in all of creation. She looked appropriately lonely. 

“What am I going to tell him, Fluttershy?” 

“It, ah…” Fluttershy stood up as Twilight looked at her. “It sounds like you maybe do have your answer.” 

“Maybe.” Twilight nodded and closed the box, returning it to her wing-pocket. She finally took a  sip of tea. “You’re right, of course. I should talk to the others. You girls always get me on the right track.”

“I can…” Fluttershy began to offer. 

“No, it’s alright!” Twilight slid off the couch, smiling gratefully if not happily and placing a hoof on her shoulder. “I’ll see who’s free. Maybe we should all get around the map table, but I just…I don’t think I could handle everypony at once, you know?”

“Whatever feels right!” Fluttershy assured, giving her hoof a squeeze. She wished she had a firmer grip for moments like these. She always felt it when an animal was connecting and responding but ponies could be so much harder to read. 

“Thank you, Fluttershy. I mean it.” 

She clung tightly as Twilight hugged her, trying to pour more reassurance into her friend, and watched uncertainly as the young Alicorn trudged out the door. She stood in her living room for a while after Twilight had taken to the sky and vanished from sight (leaving her door open, but she wasn’t one to complain and it was a nice day at any rate). She looked down, sensing Angel’s presence. 

“It’s not my business,” she mumbled. 

Black ball bearing eyes blinked up at her. 

“Alright!” Fluttershy huffed. “I’ll stage an intervention! Jeez!”  

She marched, softly and lacking a big stick, towards the door. Angel bounced up, grabbing her tail and startling her to a halt. He pointed to his belly, frowning. 

“Oh! Um.” Fluttershy rubbed it. “There there, Twilight’ll be okay.” She made a very Angel sort of face. “It’s that Peter Trotter who should be worried.” 

Angel rolled his eyes, taking her hoof and aiming it in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Oh, you’re--” Fluttershy checked the clock. Whoops, a bit after Angel’s feeding time. “Right! Sorry!” 

She’d been trying to keep an eye on his weight lately, so no extras no matter how guilty she felt, but there was no harm in a pinch more salad dressing. Bunny loved his salad dressing! 


8


The remains of the club weren’t much to look at. Or maybe, Spider-Pony reflected, he’d just gotten that used to building with broken windows. 

“And we’re not just rolling up, because…?” the Torch asked, hovering irritably beside him on their roof top perch. 

“Gotta wait until traffics lighter.” Spidey indicated the packed street. 

Creatures were cutting through to deal with a slow-moving convoy of trucks further up the road, trying to make navigate a turn without hitting each other with their trailers. Manehattanites complained about the good ol’ days and how you never had this problem with carts. Peter wondered what good ol’ days they were talking about. No gridlock? In Manehattan?

Johnny rolled his plasma sheathed eyes. “It’s day light, man.” 

“Good point, would you douse already?” 

“Kiss your aunt with that mouth?” But the goofball obliged, dropping beside him in a shower of sparks. “Look, I’m serious, I know you’re used to scuttling around in the dead of night, but what’s stopping us just heading in there?”

“Uh…” Spidey jumped onto a chimney, pantomiming scanning the street to stall for time. He actually hit on something. “Well, how do we know the Skrulls don’t have eyes on this place? They turned it into a trap for you, so.” 

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Spider-Sense tingling?”

“Not yet.” Peter heled the tip of his tail up. “They could be lying in wait.”

“Then I get to work off some Lyja related agro.” Johnny popped the joints in his forelegs and shoulders, igniting and flying towards the jagged hole in the glass. 

“Johnny!” the web-slinger snapped in protest, firing off a web-line. A few pedestrians glanced up as he swung overhead but didn’t really react, which irritated him because it proved the point his roommate was making. 

“So we heading inside?” The Torch was hovering in mid-air, just shy of entering the cordoned off space, forelegs smugly folded. “Or are you worried Gem Stone’ll be mad at you not respecting the authority of a lil’ E.U.P. tape?” 

Spidey alighted on the wall just below him and flipped himself upwards into the gap, missing the sharp edges and not so much as ruffling the tape. “Like this is the first crime scene I’ve snuck into. Emphasis on sneaking.”

“What? It’s not like anypony’ll think you’re less of a menace.” 

“Thanks…” Peter muttered, but if Johnny made any kind of retort he didn’t hear it, perching on a table and letting his mind and his special talent rub together. It wasn’t like the movies, and he was no Shamrock Runes in any case, but that microscope hadn’t popped onto his flank for nothing. 

The fight, and probably an M.E.U.P. forensics team at some point, had stripped the walls, baring the oddly neat tangle of Skrull circuitry used to generate lasers. Angle suggested it was designed to work with the amount of mirrors in this place, and who’d be able to resist using the disco ball? 

“Power source?” he asked, letting out the first question that drifted up from the fog. 

“Hay if I know.” Johnny had taken a seat on one of the tacky leather sofas that hadn’t been scorched by fireballs and lasers. 

“Hmm…” Peter stroked the fabric covering his chin, trying to follow the trail of that circuitry and not get lost in admiring the design, then blinked. “Oh for—! C’mon man, this is a crime scene!” 

“Tell me about it.” Johnny waved at an angry thicket of burn marks crawling around the wall and behind the bar. “This place really coulda been something, and Lyja just torches it!” 

I wonder if the Frightful Four is hiring. Spidey flipped off the table, sticking to the ceiling to survey the whole room and salvage his clue gathering buzz. “Alright, what happened exactly? You came in and…what? Instant lasers?” 

“Basically.” 

“Lyja didn’t try to wine and dine you first?” 

“Nah, she was…” To Johnny’s credit he did look around to make sure before idly waving at some overturned equipment. “There, behind the DJ stuff.” 

“That’s where she was operating all this from?” Spidey asked, crawling along the ceiling to check a nagging thought. 

“She literally announced herself, so.” He heard a sad frumpy sound from the sofa as Johnny irritably threw himself back on it. Didn’t even have to look to know the hothead was folding his forelegs. “Her goon squad lured me onto that spot on the dance floor, she made some cracks and then the walls started shooting at me. ‘Dance Johnny, dance!’ Making me squirm…” 

“So the walls and the disco ball?” Peter ran a hoof along a seam in the ceiling tiles. There it was…

“You paying attention?” Johnny snapped. 

“Were you?” 

He’d been too busy concentrating to put much venom into the comeback but the Torch still ignited, shooting up to glare at him…and inadvertently giving him another clue. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, call me unimaginative but, fun as watching you try to do the Hustle without getting sliced in half sounds, for the amount of effort it’d take to outfit this place I’d just’ve rigged the sprinklers to take you out.” 

Peter smirked under the mask as the Torch blinked then craned his head to take in the now obvious faucet heads, more visible from his illuminating flames. 

“Huh,” he admitted. 

“So why didn’t Lyja?” 

“Who knows!” Johnny snapped irritably, and Peter flinched from a sudden spike in temperature. “She probably just got a bigger kick out of chasing me round the room! Y’know how into it they can get!”

“True…” 

But Peter could feel the question still sticking to the scene. This lady’s gimmick was anti-Torch traps and she hadn’t used water? 

Johnny was right, the fruitloops they ran into absolutely got so wrapped up in their motif-de-jour they missed something obvious, sometimes that was all that saved your skin. But…all that cutting-edge stuff in the walls. The geometry she’d have to use to keep Johnny trapped. The enclosed space. And she hadn’t taken the most obvious route and just made sure he couldn’t flame on? Peter couldn’t make that fit. 

This felt like it should go somewhere but he couldn’t see it, so switched tracks. “How’d you get out again?” 

“Tricked her into zapping her console and shorting the whole deal out,” the Torch smiled with grim satisfaction, indicating the lumps of black plastic Peter now realised were melted. 

“And probably fried one of our biggest leads in the process, thanks.” 

He hopped off the ceiling to take a look anyway. He still wanted to find out what all this had been running on, and it was already generating questions. 

Like with the sprinklers, what was Lyja thinking? Keep the Torch constantly moving so much he couldn’t fire back, and she’d probably been banking on eventually tiring him out, but why bother? Why not just trap Johnny in a cage of lasers, a type of projectile he couldn’t melt? 

“Yeesh,” Spidey observed, head on one side as he took the remains of the turntable in, “how hot were you burning? This thing’s practically soup!” 

“My usual 780 °F,” Johnny said, casually buffing his 4 logo, “but I only hit it with a fireball to make sure Lyja didn’t go for it again. Skulls have backups in practically everything, sneaky lil’ jerks.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, this one time, on Tarnax-whatever-number, it’s been a long fight, I’m looking for a restroom and--” 

“Ah-bup-bup!” Peter waved his hooves, lenses squeezed shut in revulsion. “Not on this or any other planet am I talking about what you are! What I mean is, you didn’t take this thing out?”

“Nah, Lyja did.” Johnny looked smugger. 

“Ah, the old lead-it-back-towards-‘em move!” Peter grinned under the mask, holding out for a high hoof. “Classic.” 

“Iconic,” the Torch concurred, lowering the temperature of his hoof for delivery. 

“Hmm,” Spidey mused as he began hunting through the warped bricks. Despite being all melty the remains of the turntable were sliced into neat sections, allowing his talent to help him visualise them falling apart. Checked out with some of the cleaner burn marks on the walls. “Lyja didn’t have any shielding?” 

“There was a screen, yeah.” Johnny waved at some less shiny fragments mixed in with the broken glass all over the floor. “Guess she was counting on it being strong enough.” 

“Maybe…” Peter looked at some of the mirrors. 

Some of them had been cracked and only one of them was warped from high temperature. They’d have to be made of glass specially designed to reflect the lasers and the walls would’ve been of a similar material. That rip in one had to be made and Johnny had described the blasts as coming through all of them. 

Lyja had been crazy enough to lure Johnny into a gingerbread set up from the ’70s, why would she be sane enough to wonder if standing in her own laser filled deathtrap was a good idea? 

It nagged at him as much as all the other raised questions, though. No sprinklers, no accounting for Johnny’s manoeuvrability, and a dinky little screen to protect herself instead of, like, a forcefield? 

Not that he doubted his buddy’s ability to get out of stuff like this, but he knew from experience how much of that was improvisation. If he could spot holes in a net that was supposed to be custom made to catch Johnny…why couldn’t somepony from a civilisation lightyears ahead of Wakanda? 

On the other hoof she dated the guy. Why am I expecting her to have it together? Aha!

He scrapped away some flakes of melted plastic with a hoof. 

“Find something?” Johnny asked, killing his flames and leaning over his shoulder. 

“Maybe!” Spidey nodded, more to himself, as he turned the chunk of debris over. It was some (slightly warped but still legible) writing. He realised it was upside down, not a problem for his spidey-eyes, and translated for the confused Johnny. “Colonnade Sound Systems®.”

“Never heard of ‘em.” 

“Positive?” 

“You know dork stuff, I know music,” Johnny assured. “Trust me, there’s no company dealing in this kinda lightshow. The Skrulls probably whipped it up.”

“Ah, but they had to ship it up here!” Spidey said excitedly, practically jumping in place. 

“You’re saying this is a lead?” Johnny asked the way he asked Peter most things, trying to sound unconvinced and agreeable at the same time. 

“Fake sound system for a fake club has to have a real-ish address.” Peter indicated the ravished walls. “And if that doesn’t pan out, hay, they had to rent this place, install all this stuff, even score some tunes. If we can find where any of it came from...I’m not saying we’ll find Lyja but we’ll at least find out who she’s been talking to. Somepony in the underworld has to be moving this stuff for her.” 

“I like ‘Lyja’ and ‘underworld’ in the same sentence,” Johnny grinned. 

“So now comes the hard part.” Spidey jumped across tables to dive between the crime scene tape and back out into the city.


*** 


“Trawling your depressing knowledge of this city’s dirty underbelly until we find something?” He felt the heat behind him as the Torch reignited and followed. And that familiar buzzing sensation…

“To find your stalker, flame-brain,” Spider-Pony countered, flipping to perch on a flagpole. 

He looked further up the street, the Torch following his gaze to that truck convoy, still trying to make it through the streets without putting their trailers through a storefront window. He could’ve kicked himself for missing it before: they all had Alchemax logos. Probably loaded with valuable research or whatnot. 

“And as any good investigator knows…” he continued, trying to narrow the squiggles from his head into a beam pointing aaaat…that guy in the hoodie! 

“BANZI!” the guy whooped, galloping forward. His crazy jump threw back his hood, revealing the custom biker style helmet he was wearing, part of his purple jumpsuit ensemble. 

Instead of bouncing off the side of the lead truck’s trailer and breaking his fool neck, he passed into it in a splash of blue magic, his discarded hoodie wafting to the sidewalk. The truck shuddered with an unpleasant mechanical kind of…burping. The cab door flew open, the driver yelping as he was somehow fired out of it at the same instant the Pegasus’ upper body sprouted from the roof of the trailer.  

Pedestrians boggled as magic enveloped the truck, crushing and streamlining various sections into a growling, angular behemoth. 

“Blammo!” announced the Pegasus’ wing-gunning the two other trucks. Similar transformations discharged the other drivers and the mutated convoy began to rev. 

“…it’s finding a spare moment to actually investigate anything,” Spidey deadpanned as he and the Torch raced after the convoy. 

He used turning a corner to pick up speed, landing on the middle truck and hopping onto the lead. “Overdrive! Didn’t see ya indicate! Tsk tsk!” 

“Spidey?!” the Pegasus squealed, bunching his hooves under his helmet. “Oh man, I just took this gig for rent, this is the best!” 

“Eyes on the road!” Spidey called in terror as they took a rear wheel off a passing carriage and dislodged a fire hydrant. “Eyes on the road!”

“Whoops, sorry man, y’know how star struck I can get!” 

Overdrive’s torso swivelled around disconcertingly, streamlining and sending a rippling roar through the truck. Before Spidey could adhere to the roof, turbines sprouted out of the side of each truck and ignited, throwing him off. The Torch swooped down, catching his tail in unlit hooves before he hit the asphalt. Which might have been a blessing. 

“Star struck?” Johnny squinted down at him. 

“Yeah, he’s new, and…” Peter shut his eyes, sighing into the wind from embarrassment. “He’s a fan.”

“You have a fan.” 

He could hear it in Johnny’s voice, too incredulous to make fun of him now, but oh what would come later. 

“Yeah, yeah, I have a supervillain fan. Follow that literal monster truck!” 

“Great Pony in the sky, you have a fan…”


9


Alright, Twilight chided herself as she completed yet another lap of the patchwork quilt Equestria below her, you’ve circled Ponyville five times. You’re not giving yourself time to think about it, you’re procrastinating. Pony up!

She (slowly) dived, wings streamlined but flared for drag and a controlled decent. Which also meant she was slightly more aware of the box in her wing pocket now. 

The river and some of its neighbours were spread out beneath her, ribboning their way through the fields towards the mountains. At least one or two of them should pass underground, maybe even merging with Canterlot’s maze of caverns and pipes.

Hundreds of caverns, miles of pipes. Acres of undiscovered underground in the shadows, no light or space until the water reached the edge of Equestria and the sea itself. If she took the ring out now, channelled all her Earth Pony strength and Pegasus speed into the wind up and just let go…

No. For one thing she’d still have seen it. Still know. And even if Peter never suspected she’d know it was out there, feel it bobbing on the tide every night millions of miles from her bed. 

Fluttershy was right. It will help to talk to the others but how do I even begin? I don’t know that I want to say yes, but I don’t know that I want to say no! Should pick somepony soon though, with my luck Rainbow Dash is going to swoop by any minute wondering what I’m doing up here. And I can’t tell her! 

…I mean, I can ask her advice but I can’t tell her! Gah! Wait, maybe that’s it. What if I frame it as a game? A question game. Pinkie Pie likes games! 

What in the name of Celestia am I talking about?! That’s insane!

…good idea for a case study though, gets you results and a little plausible deniability. The university’s pulled worse over the decades. Then again how many cards could I throw together before ‘Do you think a mare should marry her coltfriend when they’re not even five years in yet?’

Could just show them the ring? Agh, but what if then they think it’s a done deal? I have all the willpower of Discord in a “Do Not Touch” sign factory right now! If they’re happy for me I’m either going to break their hearts or fold and wind up living a lie. And Spike already knows I’m freaking out. It’s unfair to ask him to maybe go along with that until I’m on the alter and have an attack on conscience.

Come on, filly, last month you held a fifteen feet tall centaur at bay! With the borrowed magic of three other princesses, admittedly, but still. This is just one little life decision. 

That changes everything forever...

Maybe I can ask to channel all the wisdom of Cadence and the sisters this time? Applejack always says it’d be nice if I knew as much as I think I do! 

…except I don’t WANT them to know about this, because what if their advice is…wrong?! IS there even a wrong answer to this?! I just got over being the baby princess, and now there’s another on the way--

Stop thinking about children Twilight, you are NOT going there!

Where was I going? Princess get married all the time, that was it! Which, okay, is part of why I don’t want to go to Cadence. At all. There’s only two answers she can give and they scare the CLOUD out of me! 

Wait, what? Agh, cloud! 

She reared in mid-air, yelping as this inadvertently stalled her wings. Her semi-Pegasus bio-magical field saved her as her upper torso impacted the large cloud in her path, allowing her to scrabble for purchase and haul herself up on it. 

Twilight sighed like she was trying to sift a thousand years out of her body and flopped onto her back. She held the box in her hooves, flicking it open to stare mournfully at the ring. 

Why did this have to happen now? 

She snapped it shut, pressing it to her chest and closing her eyes. 

Things have been getting so much BETTER! That Attilan mess helped me and Peter get over that stupid fight, the castle’s starting to feel like home, Chrysalis and Starlight Glimmer are the only threats still out there, and both are in the wind…and now I have to…to what? 

Answer the most important question Peter can ask me. 

And I have no idea how. 

…WHY don’t I know? I love him! We love each other! Chrysalis would be dancing in the ruins of Canterlot and Attilan if we didn’t! 

Her eyes snapped open. 

Chrysalis. She’s been quiet, Princess Celestia says that’s the pattern, but she looked like a piece of burnt chewing gum after Medusa and Black Bolt took their love back. She could still be healing up.

So what’s stopping me from kidnapping some random changeling and making them answer for me?! Wait in the bushes, muss up my mane a little and oh thank goodness I’m here in time to save you, everypony! They had me for…months! Away, you wicked creature! Did I miss anything?

I mean, I’d have to pretend not to get a whole lot of in-jokes, and it can’t be pre-Tirek…but Peter ought to lose his nerve for a while, right? 

Because he’d be scared to death and I’d probably crack, and we’ll be right back where we started, but it’ll be the end of everything, and this is CRAZY! 

She clenched the velveteen weight of the box between her hooves, as if she could just crush it and everything she was feeling into nothing, go back to the nice, safe world of less than an hour ago. 

What am I going to do? 


***

A crash of timber below her! 

Twilight rolled over, scrambling to all fours. She realised her weight must have sent the cloud drifting and now she was over the Everfree Forest. She coughed in surprise as she realised the air was full of the scent of fire. Magical fire.

Through a gap in the tree canopy she could see a hulking…something stomping through, scattering leaves and some of the strange bird like creatures that haunted the place. Smoke and flame knifed from its hooves, lapping at the mismatched trees which curled into strange new shapes, as if recoiling rather than burning. 

It seemed to be a mass of swamp, like part of the Everfree had come alive and started moving toward Ponyville, which threw her already shaken brain. 

That and the clown makeup and party hat that it was wearing for some reason.

A flash of monotone colours out of the corner of her eye made her focus: Zecora was marching steadily towards the beast. 

I’m going to get over myself and save my friend, that’s what I’m going to do! 

Twilight dived, covering her mouth and nose with a foreleg to prevent herself from inhaling whatever this freak was letting off as she swooped over it, conjuring a line of her faux-crystal in front of it to bring it to a halt. 

“Twilight?!” Zecora exclaimed, staring at her as she landed. 

“It’s alright, we can take him!” Twilight nodded gravely, turning to glare at the swamp-whatever-it-was. Her hasty barrier wasn’t very tall, but it had done its job, making the creature hesitate and giving her time to get off an impact bolt. 

“No!” Zecora cried as her assault struck the creature. 

The purple magic didn’t seem to do much but Twilight had only been trying to force it back. All she seemed to have accomplished was blasting away the makeup and hat. The creature didn’t so much fall over as slosh to one side, smacking against a tree.  

Twilight and Zecora backed up as it creaked, almost groaning, shuddering into a jagged, sickly blue and pustule ridden nightmare. The grass and mud under them was thrown into their faces as twisted blue roots erupted before them, zigzagging across the Everfree’s floor. 

Twilight choked as debris showered down on her, her eyes watering from flecks and then widening as the infected roots burst into that strange fire. Nearby trees began to distort, turning ugly colours. One erupted into a terrible orange mushroom, belching more of that disgusting smoke. 

Twilight formed a forcefield, trying to clear her lungs and stop herself from panicking. She glared at the creature through the purple tinge, looking for a weak spot, a pattern of behaviour, anything!

The monstrosity was pulling itself back into an upright shape, muck and foliage crawling across its body. It almost looked like an elephant, or at least a vine like…something drooped out of where its face should have been, connected to another that formed a sort of brow. 

The creature turned to face Twilight and she was too stunned by its eyes to even gasp. 

They couldn’t be eyes but couldn’t be anything else. The dark, angry, defeated red of scab wounds. And she could feel a pull from them, a gravitational tug on her mind. 

Looking into this thing’s eyes was like falling into an unknowable new universe. And they were looking right back at her. 

The creature started towards her with stilted, sloshing movements of its legs, its trunk swaying. 

Twilight backed up, tripping over an unseen blue root behind her. Her field burst from the break of her concentration and she stared up at one of those warped hooves, reaching for her face—

“Not today,” Zecora said with impossible calm, putting herself between them. “We do this my way.”

Twilight stared. The zebra didn’t even blink as that terrible mockery of a limb pressed against her. 

A beat, as if the creature were probing for something. 

Then it withdrew, ignoring them, its tuber-like head turning this way and that. Searching for something? 

Zecora glanced down at Twilight, who managed an uncertain nod, then pulled something out of her necklace with her mouth and took it in her hooves. Twilight squinted. It was a pod and some roots. Zecora put the thing to her lips and the air filled with high but gentle music. A flute, Twilight realised. The tune was soothing but also distant, melancholy. It made her feel like she should be sorry for this creature. 

The beast’s head sloshed slowly towards Zecora. As she played, her eyes focused on those lifeless crimson stones under that sagging brow. Eventually, its shoulders slumped, or maybe the mass of tangled grass and mud that comprised its shoulders just shifted, but it seemed relaxed. 

Twilight tried to stay stock still as Zecora worked her own brand of magic but carefully looked around as the Everfree filled with relieved creaking. The trees were returning to the relative normal of the most unnatural place in Equestria, their infectious colours fading away along with the creature’s strange fire. The air still stank of burning wood and mildew, but the smoke was clearing. 

Zecora finished her tune and watched her audience carefully. Its trunk flicked once but it remained impassive. It was so still it could almost have been mistaken for some kind of strange swamp statue but then Twilight remembered the way it could move, how unnaturally fast, and had to repress a shudder. 

The creature turned to her as if it sensed this, freezing Twilight’s blood, but Zecora held up a hoof. 

“Stay your touch my friend,” the shaman said gently. She gestured towards a trial of fire and flicked a seed towards it. It vanished into the flames which turned bubble-gum colours before shrinking away, revealing a river. 

“You are displaced, it’s true,“ Zecora continued. “But follow this, do, every turn and bend, and your trial shall come to an end. Leaving us this haven to mend.” 

A beat as the creature just stood there, towering over them. Then it turned, shuffling towards the stream and melting into it. 

Zecora helped Twilight to her hooves as they watched, only its shoulders visible, and even that could just be a torn off chunk of embankment floating away to nowhere. 

Apart from the dislodged party hat in the corner and the stink of smoke, the creature might never have been there at all. 


***

“What was that thing?” Twilight asked eventually. 

“I’ll say this much, young conjurer,” Zecora said sternly, “it is extremely lucky it’s touch you did not endure.” 

She must be steamed if her rhyme was that clumsy, but Twilight knew better than to push it. 

“You…were never in danger,” she realised. “You knew how to stop it doing wherever it was doing to the Everfree and I mucked everything up.” 

“I did not need you to come out of thin air,” Zecora agreed, “but it was for my welfare.” 

“No, it-it’s your territory,” Twilight stammered. “I should’ve trusted you had a plan.” 

“Or two, or three,” the shaman smirked, “but enough about me, what can I do for you?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t coming to see you, not that I’m not happy to!” 

Twilight tried a shaky smile and to maintain eye contact without being weird about it. She eventually looked away and kicked the grass. “Though I could use all the help I can get, I suppose.” 

Zecora raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. The guardian has a certain taste for fear. Especially when so near. What did bring you here?” 

“I’ve had kind of a big surprise…” 

Twilight attempted another kick and winced as she stuck an unearthed root. The tree she’d knocked the creature into was fully healed but its root hadn’t retracted. “Ow! Wait, that thing’s a guardian? Then what was it doing to the Everfree? It was almost like it was hurting the trees or something!” 

“It was a good thing I intervened so soon,” Zecora agreed, “or the Everfree would have borne a terrible new bloom. The guardian’s home hums to a different tune, their magic so different it could spell only doom. The Everfree is, in its own way, alive and the Mage-Thing’s touch even it could not survive.” 

“So it reacted to…him, but he didn’t mean to do it,” Twilight guessed. 

“Indeed, he was bought here against his will, and his power and the Everfree’s do no go together.” Zecora’s eyes narrowed. “Still, I suppose Discord thought that would be clever.” 

Twilight glanced at the party hat, its presence obnoxiously explained. 

“Well, it was ingenious how you solved everything! Sorry for barging in.” 

“All in a day’s work, young turk.” Twilight almost felt like Zecora was puffing out her chest even though she knew the shaman wasn’t the type. “But tell me about this surprise and what you feel it may jeopardise!” 

“Um…” 

Twilight looked at her for a beat, then levitated the ring box out. Zecora blinked at it uncomprehendingly until she flipped it open, feeling awkward as the zebra’s pupils enlarged. 

For a few seconds there was only the distant noises of disturbed monsters and magic making their way back to the now safe Everfree. 

“…yowza,” Zecora said eventually. 

“Eyup,” Twilight agreed. 

“Hopefully without any, ah, passive-aggression,” Zecora asked carefully, “are you telling me your totem popped the question?”

“I just found it in his saddlebag,” Twilight half wailed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“He’s an odd one, your Peter,” Zecora said gently, gesturing for the Alicorn to join her sitting on a log, “but don’t worry, I wouldn’t know what to do either. So. You know you make a lovely couple, but fear an answer your troubles shall double?” 

“Something like that.” Twilight snapped the box shut harder than she meant to. “I feel like my brain’s been drawn and quartered, and all the pieces are playing out every single possibility of this at once. Which is funny, since I have no idea how this is going to go!” 

She looked up as Zecora put a hoof on her shoulder. “While you should speak to all you hold close, remember, it is your choice first and foremost. Do what makes you happy, what feels right, upmost!”

“I think we would be happy,” Twilight sighed, looking at the box in her hooves. “I can’t imagine why we wouldn’t be, but I can’t…I can’t see myself saying yes. And then I think about what it’d do to him.”

“While that’s kind, it’s true,” Zecora said firmly, “this isn’t about just him, but you.” 

“I know, but we’re a package deal at this point.” Twilight shrugged. “I mean, we’re not joined at the hip, gosh, we live thousands of miles apart, but…you get what I mean?” 

“Love is not my forte, I fear.” Zecora looked away into the trees and snorted. “Almost makes me wish Cadence was here.” 

“Bad idea,” Twilight squeaked, clutching the box even tighter.

“That so?” Zecora raised an eyebrow and smiled as Twilight blushed. “Well, you have several opinions to go. But see her, it is something you should do. And don’t think of it as seeing the Princess of Love and matters occult. Your sister, that is who you should consult.” 

“You’re right,” Twilight sighed. She rolled her eyes. “Plus, if she finds out I didn’t go to her I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“She’s got a mouth on her, that one,” Zecora chuckled. “And they say I’ve got a sharp tongue.” 

“You know your way around woodwind instruments at least,” Twilight grinned. She slipped the box back into her wing pocket. “I’m sorry to get you wrapped up in this, I was just drifting around up there. Didn’t even realise the place was on fire.” 

“Be that as it may, when it comes to the Everfree one must always observe,” Zecora cautioned, making her feel like she was back at school, “lest you wind up some monster’s horsdoeuvre! But you are still in two minds. I can read the signs.” 

Twilight felt a petulant wave of defensiveness. “Well, yeah! Have you ever had to make a decision like this?”

“Yes,” Zecora said simply. 

“Oh.” 

Twilight blinked. Maybe burning to death from the touch of a swamp monster wouldn’t have been so bad. She wouldn’t have put her hoof in this, for one thing. 

“S-sorry. Do, uh, do you want to tal--”

“No.” 

“Alrighty!” Twilight squeaked with terrified, inappropriate cheeriness. “I’ll, ah, I’ll just…”

“Do not go,” Zecora assured. “You have much to think about regarding your beau. To articulate what you feel is an arduous task, but it will help you decide the questions you must ask. And ask yourself, for this kind of answer is not on any bookshelf. Keeping it bottled up? Not good for your health.” 

“So, talk to people,” Twilight sighed. “That’s your advice?” 

“Do what you must to find your own path. What helped me?” Zecora gave a shrug. “A bubble bath.” 

“Ooooh.” Twilight pupils grew a little. “That would help right now.” 

“I have my ways.” Zecora winked at her, the sobered. “But be sure not to fall into a malaise. Forward is the only way you can go, but we can always talk, you have my word it is so.” 

“Thank you.” Twilight embraced her, grateful as her sort-of-mentor’s hooves patted her back. “I should get back to Ponyville. Find the others.” 

“Before you’re on your way, a last question if I may?” 

Twilight nodded. 

“That you should say yes is the most obvious guess,” Zecora explained, “but you fear division, when younger than you have made this decision. That can work out, and it seems a sure thing with such a boy scout. So I suppose what you should really ask yourself is why do you doubt?” 

“Well, it’d be silly not to wonder if it’s too fast,” Twilight replied, shrugging, and felt a small glow of pride at the zebra’s approving nod. “And that’d just be if I was still a Unicorn! If Chrysalis hadn’t gotten in the way, Shining and Cadence’s wedding would’ve gotten way more media attention than it did. It’d be difficult for Peter to keep his secret with that much spotlight on us, and it would affect us going forward.”  

“It is wise to consider the toll fame takes,” Zecora agreed, “but this sounds like your mutual calling? Because, not to diminish his back-alley brawling, you Elements play for much bigger stakes.” 

“There’s overlap, sure,” Twilight admitted, “but, well...” 

She looked into the middle distance, processing. “Part of me is worried that we’d be starting a life together but…it’d be one big commitment after the other, and that’s hard enough. But I know Peter would always be looking at the newspapers, always wondering if somepony was hurt because he wasn’t there. I don’t know if I can ask him to make peace with that.” 

“True, but he’d have the bigger commitment to you,” Zecora pointed out. 

“I know, I know, but what if that’s what I wind up doing? Keeping Spider-Pony to myself when he belongs to Equestria? Maybe the world?” 

“Of this kind of thing it is perhaps right to be wary,” Zecora said, “but bear in mind, it would not just be the Spider you would marry. There are a million ways this could go wrong, it’s true, but never forget, we define to what we belong.” 

“Thanks, I guess…” Twilight spread her wings. “You’re right, I’ll find the others and we’ll hash this out.” 

“Before you split the scene,” Zecora said, the weight in her voice dragging the princess back to earth. She produced a broom from somewhere and thrust it into Twilight’s hooves, indicating several burnt holes strewn with debris. “I think it only fair that you help keep it clean.” 


To be Continued 

> Squirm Notice (3)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


10


At some point a wise pony had said the most important aspect of detective work was the leg work. 

Johnnycake Storm would counter that this was an awesome but ultimately meaningless slogan because, last he checked, ponies were 40% leg, and anyway it was the 21st reign of Celestia, you could farm stuff out these days. Keep the deerstalker hats if you want, but let your money do the walking. 

After running down Overcharger, he and Spidey had followed the Colonnade Sound Systems lead to a storage and shipping facility, Port ‘n’ Go. It seemed legit but not only did everypony working there know nothing about the company that owned and financed them, Stoop Conquests, there were more fake brands among the authentic ones listed in their inventory. 

Pros: they were making progress hunting down Lyja! 

Cons: it was glacial progress while Pete handled the search for connections between shell companies, seeming way too happy to visit the Department of Records and Information Services, and Johnny would be the first to admit he had the attention span of—ooh, a penny!

Solving a case of supervillain real estate fraud was small potatoes for the FF, and Johnny didn’t want to hit the team up about this anyway. Sue would mother him to death because of Lyja and the inevitable row about how he’d maybe thrown away his flyer’s licence was going to be exhausting enough. Spidey could handle the boring stuff but they were splitting up less to search for clues, more because a bored/increasingly aggravated Horseshoe Torch around decades of flammable files was a bad idea. 

He swung by the garage first, hoping to lose himself in the music of machinery, perhaps even kill some time with a street race, but everypony working the floor had their karts halfway done. He asked around about good ol’ Domino Torpedo’s crew (now there was a family-team that knew how to raise some hay!) but the only one in town was Roman Candle, and Johnny wasn’t in the mood for a zany caper with worse jokes than Peter’s. 

Alright, fine, he’d headed to the garage because there was a chance Lyja would follow him and try something. Not that Johnny didn’t have faith in the Spider-Surprise plan, but he wanted it over with. That chase in the subway had come this close!  

He began to spiral, wondering when/if Lyja would attack his new workplace and why she hadn’t already, which prompted him to make his excuses to the gang and take off. He’d circled the district Peter was working in, trying to think of something to do. Never a supervillain around when you needed one!  

Miraculously, he found the next best thing: plucky misfit teenagers! 


***


“Alright, good game, good game,” he assured one of his exhausted charges as she shuffled off a dance mat laid out in the middle of the local rec centre’s basketball court. He passed her a water bottle from his collar, massaging her shoulders as he took in her dance off opponent. The two fillies were clearly rivals, but even though they’d danced to a tie the real prize was the look of growing respect on both their faces. 

The judges seemed to agree. For the third round in a row they held up equal scorecards for both sides. 

“Aww man!” moaned a teenage Unicorn with a baseball cap, a heart of gold, and, unfortunately, a foreleg in a cast. “We’re gonna have to do something amazing to break the deadlock, but I can’t join in for our big finish with this busted leg!”

“Yeah, sorry, that’s on me,” Johnny admitted absent-mindedly. “Dang! If only I were five to eight years younger and had a headband!”

“Mr. Storm, no!” the skateboarding outcast protested, adjusting her helmet for better looking sincerely up at him. “Without you we’d never have come together at all! It’s not your fault they’re gonna demolish the centre! And even if they do, we’ll always have each other!”

Johnny blinked at her as the rest of the group nodded and high-hoofed in solidarity. 

“What? Oh, that! Yeah, no, the rec centre’s gonna be fine.”

“Huh?”

“I signed it up to the FF’s charity accounts,” Johnny said idly. “My sister was thrilled to pick it up and so mad when she found out we actually have stock in the firm trying to bulldoze it. She’s shutting down every lousy deal she can find as we speak.” 

The shady real-estate developer of the piece leered at him as the other dance team (sponsored by his firm to divert the 4,000-gem prize away from the centre, naturally) finished, scoring high. The jerk looked confused when Johnny simply waved back distractedly, focused on the mat. 

“So…what, we’ve been fine this whole time?” the outcast realised, blinking. 

“No, the rec centre’s been fine! We need to come up with a plan to win this contest, helping you forge bonds that, despite your diverse backgrounds, will last at least until you have to go to college.”

“Are you telling us you only signed up to win this dance contest?” the affluent ballet academy filly asked, stunned. 

“Why else?” 

“I broke my leg for this!” the wide-eyed Unicorn snapped incredulously.

“And I admitted I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard, thus taking street-responsibility,” Johnny said, smiling at a matter well resolved even as his wards’ eyes bugged at him, and turned back to the mat, frowning. “Hmmm, if only I could use my powers. But those stupid rules!” 

He hesitated, then whipped around. The outcast backed up, clutching her skateboard like a shield. “Why are you looking at me like that…?”

“You,” Johnny grinned. 

“What?! But-but-but I don’t know how to dance!” 

“Who said anything about dancing?” 

“Everypony?” the ballet academy one said, squinting. “I mean…” She gestured to several banners and posters, all baring the words Dance Off. 

“Yeah,” chimed in the Unicorn, “the rules say the prize either goes to the most organised or inventive team!” 

“Oh, you want inventive?” Johnny smirked as he leaned too far into the outcast’s personal space. “Do they explicitly say you can’t use a skateboard?”

The outcast and the plucky teens exchanged glances, their eyes all lighting up. The Unicorn nodded grimly, gesturing to the mat with his crutch. It was a sweet gesture and Johnny managed to catch him before he fell. The new team set off for victory, the outcast skating towards destiny with grim dignity. 

The chain link fencing behind Johnny rattled slightly with a sudden weight. “I wasn’t even gone for two hours.” 

“So maybe the lesson here is people get more done when you’re not around.” Johnny shrugged as the Unicorn stared up at Spider-Pony crouched above them, a file dangling from his tail. That made the Torch raise an eyebrow. “Got something?” 

Spidey crouched further down, exhibiting an almost boneless body language the equine form was not designed for, so he could lower his tail and display the files contents. “Check it, every single one of these businesses bought into those legit ones a few years back. Anything to do with your disco o’ doom was probably set up around then, so we have a time frame for how fake they are and what they all have in common: drum roll, please…”

“No.” Johnny irritably waved a hoof at a column of names underlined in red. “This is all just letters on paper, man. Get to the point.”

“Ugh, fine!” Spidey looked up at a rattle of skateboard wheels. “Whoa, what’s going on here?” 

Johnny glanced over his shoulder, watching as the outcast balanced on one foreleg as her skateboard circled the group, which pirouetted and sprang over her in an incredible display of improvised rhythm. “Oh, right. Keep goin’ guys! Blaze that trail!” He turned back to the file. “Focus.” 

“It’s weird hearing that come out of your mouth.” 

Johnny punched the fence, startling the Unicorn and making the unperturbed Web-Slinger’s perch sway. 

“Fine, fine.” Spidey tapped a map printout. “Disused funfair manufacturing plant on the waterfront.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Says the guy in the middle of a Lifetime original movie.”

“Hey!” the Unicorn protested. 

“Sorry,” Spidey conceded, ears lowering slightly. 

Johnny turned away to deliver a quick whoop of encouragement as the outcast almost fumbled her latest landing but was caught by her team-mates and managed to turn it into a spin. He shook his head as he looked back up at his roommate. “Why do basically all your gigs sound like a bad Scooby Doo episode?” 

“Our gig, Scrappy.” 

“Hey, what was the name of the hillbilly one?”

“Scooby Dum.” 

“That’s you.” 

The benched Unicorn had stopped keeping an eye on his friends to look back and forth between the two supers. “You guys went to college?” he asked. They nodded. “Ya finish?” 

“No,” Johnny said simply at the same time Spidey awkwardly mumbled, “Well, kinda, not my major, but--” 

“Cool.” The kid saluted them with his crutch. “Thanks for inspiring some of my life choices.” 

Johnny grinned at him then joined in the applause as the team performed a synchronised backflip. “Sooo is Lyja gonna be at this dump, or…?” 

“50/50,” Spidey admitted with a shrug. “We’d at least be taking away her toys.”

“Good enough,” the Torch smiled grimly, igniting as the judges held up perfect tens for the exhausted team. 

“Whoa,” the Unicorn protested, “hey, you’re not sticking around? There’s gonna be cake!”

Spidey’s ears perked up. “Ooooh!” 

“Duty calls, kid,” Johnny smirked, winking at his panting charges. 

Spidey looked between them. “Wait. Do you even know any of their names?”

“Of course not, it’d foster dependency.” Johnny clasped his hooves together then blew on them, sending out dancing flames. The cheering crowds gasped as they twisted into a blazing message: PROUD OF YOU

The plucky teens grinned at each other, the outcast balanced on their shoulders, united forever even as their mentor (of less than two hours) launched into the air. It was only slightly ruined by the yelping Spider-Pony dragged along in his wake. 

“So what’s the plan if Lyja isn’t there?” the Torch asked as they looped around a building. 

“Leggo!” Spidey protested, dangling from his unlit hooves. “You’re arm-pitting me! We’ve talked about this!”

“Hey, maybe if you ground pounders could streamline your posture--"

“How am I supposed to streamline anything when you’re carrying me by the armpits?! And stop using Pegasus slang, you poser!” 

“I might be about to lose my flyer’s licence, man, lemme enjoy it while I can!” 

“Dunno about that,” Spidey called over the wind, twisting himself free and firing a web-line from his tail into Johnny’s grip. “What if you, say, uncovered and broke up the biggest secret supervillain supply ring in Manehattan?” 

Johnny smirked, his teeth glowing with flames and natural cool. “Well, I’d certainly enjoy it.”

“Then you wanna be heading in the other direction, Flame-Brain.” He looked down as Spidey jerked a hoof towards the other side of the island. “Actually, no wait, go back!” 

“What, got another lead on Lyja?”

“No, no, just gotta put these files back.” 


11


Rainbow Dash took an irritable sip of her water bottle and checked the road again. “C’mon, Pinkie Pie,” she muttered. 

She glared at a patina of confetti and funfair debris littering the fields outside of town. Okay, so Fluttershy learned to actually take care of her animal friends by listening to their needs, cool, but could she maybe have figured this out, like, five minutes before Discord got the idea to create a safari park for them? Where the rules were reversed and ponies were the ones in cages performing tricks, naturally. 

A snap of those greasy fingers and everypony’s houses had gone back to being, y’know, houses, though Dash had to admit she was gonna miss the rollercoaster. But apparently Discord had actually bought the party supplies, which was honestly one of the weirdest ideas she’d ever heard. For starters, where’d he get the money? But the point was he couldn’t just make those vanish along with his other nonsense. And then he’d vanished to “think about what we all learned here today!”, conveniently right before the matter of clean-up had been mentioned. 

Dash poked a half-deflated balloon animal. Technically as captain of the weather team she’d have been put on this anyway, in an important lead role, naturally! But what was really getting to her was that the Mayor had dumped most of this in her lap because of how much of a mess her Pinkie/Cheese Sandwich birth-iversary had made, and that the old gal had a point. 

Pinkie had got to enthusiastically volunteer and the display of a freedom she’d lost still rubbed Dash the wrong way, but Pinkie not being here was legit annoying. The sooner they started, the sooner she could get back to practicing! 

In the old days she’d have probably done something cool, like whip up a mini-tornado to vacuum this stuff up and dump it down the nearest hole, but that would be such a Lightning Dust move and she was trying to prove turning 24 had come with a maturity boost. 

There was a rattling sound from up the hill. “Dashie! Dashie!” Pinkie called, waving from on top of her party cannon, riding it towards her. 

“’Bout time,” Dash muttered, though admittedly Pinkie’s entrance was pretty cool. She took a final sip of water, making a mental note to explore cannon surfing as a new addition to her repertoire as the party pony pulled up. “Alrighty, you ready for some ‘outside union regulations, sorry ma’am’ action?!” 

“Got more yep in my step than there’s chilli peppers in Granny Pie’s secret spicy sauce!” 

“Cool,” Dash chuckled, then cracked her joints. She considered the party cannon as she picked up a trash bag. “Uh, there a reason ya brought that thing along? Point is to clean up and it’s built for basically the exact opposite. Hay, I’m not even sure it’s road legal.” 

“Shh, it’s okay baby, she doesn’t mean it,” Pinkie cooed, patting the barrel. 

“Pinkie, seriously, pick it up!” Dash snapped. 

She turned and blinked as Pinkie shrugged and began trying to heft her cannon onto her back. She sighed, dragging a hoof down her face before giving in to an endeared chuckle. “I meant the pace! Wanna get this over with!”

“Oh, right.” Pinkie dropped her cannon, shaking the leaves off nearby trees and jolting some confetti into the air. She began to crank a handle Dash had never noticed before, beaming. “Don’t worry, we’ve got this.” 

“Pinkie, wait!” Dash began, waving her hooves in horror of how much debris and time was about to be added to her slate. 

It was drowned out by a whirring sound, coming from the barrel. 

Pinkie wheeled it forward and Dash watched in astonishment as it began to vacuum up a pile of silly string and balloons in front of them. It all vanished into the mouth, even the life-sized animal standees, though Dash was used to physics relaxing in Pinkie’s presence. It was one of the things she most respected her friend for!

“What is this?!” she called over the vacuum noises the cannon was making, grinning with delight. 

Pinkie grinned back as the last of the immediate mess vanished inside, which seemed to stop the noise. “Like it? It was Cheese Sandwich’s idea!”

Dash blinked. “You talk to Cheese Sandwich?” 

Pinkie nodded. “We’re pen pals! Well, when he can get his hooves on some paper. But he’ll always be a pal!”

Dash smirked. “Just a pal, huh?” 

“Yeah?” Pinkie said, looking back at her with an expression too confused to be anything other than sincerely innocent. “Anyway, after I got over being super jealous I didn’t come up with this reverse polarity idea—that’s what I’m calling it, don’t tell Twilight—I went to work on it. Finished it up a few weeks ago, seriously cuts down on clean up time!” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

“I figured! Plus, you had that look on your face when you’re thinking about using tornados to solve all your problems, but you know you shouldn’t, so I thought it’d help.” 

Dash instinctively rubbed her cheek, frowning. “There’s a face for that? I mean, uh, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Pinkie enthused, cranking the handle as she aimed at a fresh pile. “Like, maybe you whip up a little one to suck up some clutter, then guide it over here so we can make like some exercising guards at hoofcamp and suck it up!” 

“Aww Pinkie,” Dash sniffed, embracing her. “Ya always know what to say to make me feel better. Okay, three, two, one, break!” 

“Already?” Pinkie blinked, producing a lunchbox from somewhere. “But we just got here!” A beat as she registered Dash’s deadpan expression. “Oh.” 


***

Soon they were laughing, chasing each other around a gradually shrinking maze of funfair detritus. There was something satisfying about the sound of the vacuum cannon swallowing small tornados full of glitter and streamers. 

Inevitably they made a game out of it, speeding up the work as Dash wadded glitter and streamers together and kicked them as far out of range as she could, laughing along with Pinkie as the cannon managed to catch them all. 

“Okay, ready?” Dash called, preparing a final yak-sized wad. She hefted it over her head and realised she was struggling to maintain altitude and stay steady, but when had that stopped her before?

“Nope!” came Pinkie’s enthusiastic reply. 

Dash let fly. 

Pinkie, standing on her hind legs, rolled her canon as quickly as she could while trying to haul its neck into position…and slipped on her tail just in time to simultaneously turn it on and inadvertently shove it downhill.

Dash watched, mesmerised, as the rippling outline of suction caught the tumbling ball and dragged it along a swaying path before the canon finally hit a fence, swinging its neck down suddenly. This freed the ball from the suction’s grip, the momentum and sudden release launching it back across the field, right towards her!

When she opened her eyes and uncurled from her hasty crouch she briefly wondered if she’d been abducted to another planet (…which would be pretty rad, actually!), but realised a weird tree on the horizon was just a regular Ponyville tree, covered in Discord’s decorations. 

Twilight or Applejack would have approached it quickly but carefully, wanting to make sure nopony had been hurt but also wondering if the festively organised way the ball’s components covered the branches was some leftover chaos magic. Rainbow, Pinkie bouncing behind her, raced over because she was worried it was one of Sweet Apple Acres’ trees and the last thing she felt like putting up with right now was an AJ lecture.

“Pretty,” Pinkie observed, admiring a pattern of paper links winding through some branches. 

“Pretty lame, yeah,” Dash concurred, irritably trying to get a grip on tangles without having to use her mouth. “Gimme a hoof with this big bit here!”

“Um…” the big bit said. 

It yelped along with Dash and Pinkie as they hugged each other, which was what clued Dash in. 

“Fluttershy?!”

“Yes. Hello…?”

“What’re you doin’ in there?!”

“Making it work,” Pinkie said, nodding with approval. 

“Oh, thank you!” Fluttershy’s cyan eyes, the only part of her visible between a gap in rolls of party colours, crinkled at the compliment, then blinked. “I think some of it’s in my ears…” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda stayed out of my clean up zone,” Dash chided, managing to keep, like, 70% of guilt out of her voice. “What’re you even doing out here? Thought you had a party to throw for your critters!”

She slipped her hooves into a seam, Pinkie mirroring the gesture on the left, and together they pulled open enough of a gap for Fluttershy to squeeze her head and shoulders out. 

“I was looking for Applejack, actually.”

“Why? Everything okay?”

Fluttershy’s eyes went very distant all of a sudden. Dash hadn’t seen her look this in the headlights since their last year of school, where ’Shy’d found out Coltz 11 Ztallions was breaking up and had to try and find a way to break the news to her. 

“Is it for your party?” Pinkie asked. Her eyes sparkled suddenly. “Are you gonna ask Applejack to be a rodeo clown?” 

Dash tumbled out of the air and onto her back, laughing. Like, gonna-break-something laughing. She couldn’t help it. She could hear a country cover of that circus tune in her head so perfectly! 

“I see you’ve already heard the good news!” came a distant, giddy voice. 

“Slow down!” cried another, less chill one. 

Rainbow managed to roll herself over and catch her breath, blinking at the sight of a delighted Rarity bounding along the road towards them. Whatever the news was it’d put some serious nitro in Rarity’s tank. She was throwing up dust, even!

Three pairs of eyes widened as she sprang, gazelle style, over the fence separating them, towing a hollering something from her tail. 

At first Dash thought it must be some kind of screaming, purple Chinese lantern. It lost its grip on Rarity’s tail and hurtled towards her. Naturally her hoofball honed reflexes let her snag it with her wings, revealing it to be Spike, which made way more sense. 

“Thanks,” the dragon wheezed gratefully, then craned around her shoulder to squint at Fluttershy. “Man, what happened to you?” 

“I was looking for Applejack--” Fluttershy began urgently. 

“Yes!” Rarity trilled, prancing in place. “Applejack must be told! Ponies in deepest, darkest South Equestria must be told! I’m glad you’re here, Pinkie dear, we have oh so much to do!” 

“I’m…glad you’re glad…?” Pinkie said carefully, exchanging Pinkie-Sense-Tingling looks with Dash. 

“So, you know then?” Fluttershy asked the grinning fashionista, tremulously. 

Dash squinted between them then down at Spike, who was suddenly trying to avoid eye contact. “Know what?”

“Spikey-wikey has let me in on the most wonderful news!” Rarity said, clapping her hooves. She pranced over to Fluttershy, using her telekinesis to bring her bindings closer for examination. “Oooh, do you mind if I borrow some of these for the big day, darling?” 

“Um…”

“No, what are we thinking, far too middle school.” 

“What big day?” Dash asked, eyes narrowing. She was no detective, she’d admit, but she glared down at Spike on the basis that if this was just a basic Rarity freak out he wouldn’t be trying to squirm out of her grip so much. 

“The biggest of days!” Rarity declared, showing so many teeth in one smile even Pinkie backed up. Fluttershy would have if she wasn’t still tied to her tree. 

“Alright, that’s it,” Dash snapped, firmly putting Spike down but keeping him within tail grabbing distance. “I’m gonna take a deep breath and count to five.” 

“Don’t you mean ten?” Spike ventured. 

“Nah, that’s how long you two have to start making sense. What’re you talking about?”

Rarity was suddenly in her face, giving Dash an inadvertent close up of the chemical reaction happing in her brain through her eyes. “Twilight is getting ma—Twilight is getting ma-ma--”

“Twilight’s mom is coming to town?” Pinkie asked cheerfully. She blinked at the glare Dash gave her. 

“Oh dear,” Fluttershy squeaked. 

“Twilight is ge-heh-heh-heh,” Rarity continued, swaying, “Twilight is getting ma-ha-ha-HA-HA!” Her hoof flew to her brow as she reared up on her hindlegs. “Oh my, excuse me a moment everypony…”

“Gotcha covered!” Pinkie said quickly, disappearing into a bush and dragging out the fainting couch. 

“Ta muchly,” Rarity said and flopped down. Dash opened her mouth to ask the party pony How-Where-What but gave up and raised an eyebrow at Spike. 

“Peter might be proposing,” the dragon said, with a short sigh that felt like it captured all the miles he could’ve run before her attention was back on him. 

“YES!” Rarity exclaimed ecstatically, shooting into a sitting position and her hooves clenched tight enough to turn coal to diamond. 

Dash felt it. Felt. It. The statement changed the universe around her, compressing it to a single point and then exploding into a whole new one. There was the world before that web-slinging idiot did probably the dumbest thing ever, and suddenly they were all now living in a world where he’d actually gone and done it, the slimy little—!

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Fluttershy said quickly. 

“Spike saw the ring!” Rarity hissed, still grinning.

“Uh…” Pinkie said. She stared into space as they all turned to her, then blinked in surprise at herself. “Yeah, no, I got nothin’.” 

“You’ve got planning sessions to attend and invites to mail is what you’ve got, young filly,” Rarity decreed, springing off her couch. “Oh, and somepony should untie Fluttershy at some point. That parade of swans won’t organise itself, after all. Goodness, there’s a thought, what’s Princess Celestia going to do? Other than give a marvellous speech, of course! And Rainbow, you--” 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Dash said distantly. 

A beat. 

“Oh boy,” Spike mumbled. He held up his paws. “Guys, c’mon, let’s just take a sec here…”

Rarity blinked. “Who? Peter? Whyever would you say such a thing? Is this because he won’t build you your own web-shooters?” 

“It’s because he’s outta his mind!” Dash roared. “Are you kidding me?! What the hay kinda outta nowhere move is this?! Agh, y’know what?! Y’know what?! I bet I know what this is!” 

“The best day of Twilight’s life?” Rarity huffed. 

“I’ll bet it’s because of the castle!” 

“What?!” 

“Yeah, think about it, he lives with Johnnycake! ’Course he wants to move out, and ka-ching, Twilight’s got a brand-new castle! Man, he’s probably gonna talk her into sellin' it or something!”

“And sweep her off her hooves to a tax haven in the Candy Cane Islands, no doubt,” Rarity said with a roll of her eyes. 

“It’s cute that you don’t get this is gonna wind up in a Las Pegasus divorce court.” 

“Darling, really!” 

Dash stared at her. “Great Pony in the Sky…you’re seriously going along with this?!” 

“Yes, oh Element of Loyalty,” Rarity snapped, “I am. Like a good friend would.” 

“Uh, no, a good friend would point out that this is way too soon.” 

“I mean,” Spike said before he could stop himself, “it’s been almost three years.” 

He froze in place as Dash and Rarity rounded on him, then almost atomised by the explosive force as they rounded back on each other. 

“It’s not your place to say when Twilight can and can’t--” Rarity began primly. 

“But it’s totally yours to plan this whole thing out for her?” 

“I’d…consult.” Rarity waved a hasty hoof at the air. “Pinkie would help.” 

“Leave me outta this!” the party pony protested. 

“Yeah,” Dash jeered, “’cause she’s on my side.” 

“No I’m not. I’m on Twilight’s.” 

“What does that even mean?!” 

Pinkie shrugged. “Catering code. If she goes along with it, Sugar Cube Corner’ll throw her a reception she’ll never forget. If she doesn’t, I’ll…uh, dunno if the rules say anything about what you throw if a pony turns down a proposal, but the point is a gig’s a gig.” 

She drew an invisible line with her tail and took a prim step backwards over it. “This space? Gotland, fillies!” 

“Can I come?” Fluttershy whimpered. She’d tried biting through the confetti and it hadn’t worked. 

“Look, Peter hasn’t even popped the question yet!” Spike almost wailed, clutching his fins. “Twilight just found it in his bag! He’s not even in town right now! She said she’s gonna take the day, figure out what to say!” 

“The right thing,” Rarity said. 

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed, nodding emphatically. “Her own question: Sorry babe, but are you outta your ever loving mind?!” 

“Stop! Hitting! That! Tone!” Rarity hissed back. “You are ruining my inner-ear!” 

“As if you’ve been listening to a word I’ve said anyway.” 

“I just don’t see why you think Twilight couldn’t make this work.” 

Dash reared up on her hind legs, gesturing to the fields and hills with her hooves. “Hey, see all these trees?” 

Rarity looked around contemplatively. “Hmmm, yes, this would make a wonderful spot for the big day…”

“N--” Dash cut herself off and thought about it. “Okay, yeah, it would, betcha get some fantastic light around here at sunset.” 

“Oooh!” 

“The point is, you’re not just outta your tree, you’re outta each and every one of these trees if you think she can.” 

“Can what?”

“Make this shotgun wedding work,” Dash snapped. 

“That’s what friends are for, dear.” 

“Stitching her to Spider-Pony’s hip for life?!” 

“Oh, you’re being utterly ridiculous!” 

Dash bit down on her comeback and took a deep breath that flared out her wings. She held Rarity’s gaze for a beat before letting a dreamy smile spread across her muzzle. “Y’know what?” she said sweetly. “You’re right.” 

Rarity blinked. “Oh? I mean, of course I am! Glad you think so.”

“Obviously the best thing we can do, for Twilight’s sake—” 

“Naturally!” Rarity smiled. 

“—is approach this diplomatically.” 

Rarity blinked, missing Pinkie pulling down an army helmet and heading for the bushes with Spike as Fluttershy resumed trying to gnaw through her bonds. “What does that mean?” 

“It means you go plan the wedding,” Dash trilled, patting her on the shoulder. She leaned in with sudden fury, almost startling Rarity off her hooves. “And I’m gonna have real loud words with the groom!” 

Rarity’s mane was dragged out of shape, as were several clouds out of formation, as she rocketed up and towards Ponyville.


12


What was it with street level heroes and warehouses? That always bugged Johnny. Like there was some kind of secret contract to keep all their adventures within a tight budget. Construction sites, now those he could get! Who didn’t love a good fight on girders? They were like pirate ship rigging for cosmopolitan ponies! 

This funfair manufacturing warehouse did not look like a good place for an adventure. It looked like what it was. A brick box with windows for holding junk. Great Pony in the Sky, it didn’t even have the decency to sport a giant clown head on the roof or a rusted Ferris wheel or anything! 

“This is it?” he asked Spider-Pony, perched on the ledge of the roof they were using to survey things from up the block, while he lounged moodily against a chimney. 

“Should be…” Spidey said distantly. He was using some binoculars from Johnny’s utility collar to ‘check for any suspicious movement’. 

Johnny got the idea, he didn’t want to go blazing in fully lit up if it would scare Lyja off, but he also knew the Web-Head’s caution was probably a way to drag this out and not deal with his own filly problems back in Ponyville. 

Spidey’s tail lashed. “Aha! Sign’s faded but I can make it out. Loggia Storage.” 

“Looks more like lame storage,” Johnny muttered. 

“I mean, secret base, so that’s probably the point?” 

A beat, then Johnny grunted begrudging assent. 

“C’mon,” Spidey chuckled, tossing his binoculars back to him, “let’s check it out, maybe set off some more lasers.”

“Aww, you’re just saying that!” Johnny grinned. 


***

Peter’s method of sneaking up on the place was to head to ground level and creep through some alleys, which didn’t do anything to improve the Torch’s mood. The fact that the place still looked so basic up-close (from across the street, anyway) didn’t help either. Johnny wasn’t sure what kind of locale he wanted for his final grand showdown with Lyja, but he knew he could do better than the Manehattan Harbour docks.

“Please tell me your Spider-Sense is tingling even a little,” he told the Web-Slinger, who got to crawl across the wall while he still had to stay flamed off. Spider-Pony looked more interesting than him right now. Where was the justice in that?  

“Inconclusive,” Spidey said. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means technically no, but…” Spidey gestured to the neighbourhood in general, the odd Pegasus worker drifting into view from a yard behind their hiding place. “Ignoring everything leading to this place, it’s a piece of industrial Manehattan real estate that’s not in use? During daylight?”

Johnny nodded, listening to the clatter of machinery and packing crates, even the odd foghorn. The space in front of them felt strangely quiet. He could feel it now. 

He opened one of the magic pockets in his collar, slipping out his compact. He flipped it open, the blue glass turning see-through to show Loggia Storage’s façade, and tried to keep as much of it in focus as possible as he ran a hoof along the rim, searching for the right setting. 

“Ah, rusting sheet metal,” Spidey sighed mock-wistfully, “every photo class’ dream assignment!” 

“If you’re right then this place is counting on way more than sheet metal and a few latched windows.“ 

The compact’s screen glowed, the image pulling back as it outlined the building in yellow, tracing hundreds of pulsing lines running all over the walls, even down through the street. Johnny’s feral grin of satisfaction reflected over it perfectly. 

“Lot of magical security for old roller coaster cars,” Spidey mused as red warning marks began to appear on the screen. “Hmm. Every window and skylight’s covered in spells and circuitry. Man, even the vents! Getting in’s going to be tough…” 

“Maybe,” Johnny agreed, scrolling the image to show how many of the yellow power lines stretched under Loggia Storage, “but there’s always down.” 


***


He’d been prepared to turn molten hot and melt through the streets until he found…whatever. But Spidey naturally made the plan that much lamer, sorry, 'simpler', (blegh!) by suggesting they just use a good old fashioned Manehattan manhole. 

The sewers. Seriously. 

Part of the reason Johnny resented sewers, beyond the fact they were sewers, come on, was the cap they forced on his powers. Hundreds of pipes, potentially for gas, one stray spark…

“Hmm…” Spidey murmured distractedly from overhead. Not only did he get to crawl on the ceiling, he’d taken Johnny’s compact to keep track of the security spells. It was starting to feel a little too much like a Spider-Pony case for Johnny’s liking. 

“What?”

“Nothing, just…these go down. Way down.” 

Johnny quirked an eyebrow, feeling his enthusiasm rise slightly. “Like under the river down?” 

“Would explain why they need so much power and security. I think some of these are elevator shafts.”

“So I can offer Shining a smooth ride with some classy muzack when I crack this case wide open and get my licence back!” 

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? They haven’t taken it away yet.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I’m cutting you off before you try and give one of your depressing pep talks. Where’s the closest elevator?” 

“Uh…” Spidey checked the compact then lowered it to him, pointing. “Through that wall. And hey, I don’t give depressing…is that a thing I do?” 

“I mean, if you gave pep talks at all, how else would they go?” Johnny teased, rubbing his hooves together until they were molten. 

He pressed them to the ancient brick work, which practically evaporated on contact anyway. Very up to date magical rune-circuitry glittered in the darkness beyond it. Spidey hopped down into the muck beside him and they both craned over the new edge, smelling stale air tinged with salt. 


***


The descent didn’t take too long for ponies who could make it as fast as they could, but Johnny was getting excited at closing in on Lyja and therefore impatient. 

“Remember,” Spidey said as they began to near a dim light source, ricocheting from wall to wall, “I handle Lyja.”

“No,” the Torch shot back, resisting the temptation to just jet ahead and leave him in the dust, “I’m handling Lyja, you’re just the way I’m doing it.”

“Rarity warned me you’d try to live vicariously through me like this.”

“Impossible. You have no life.” 

What Pete actually meant: You realise if Lyja is down there then I’m gonna be too busy to help you with whatever else is? And with this much space and security it could be an army. 

What Johnny had meant: I know. 


***


“Hooh-kay…” Spidey said, not even grunting as they reached the bottom of the shaft, “final floor, ocean side views, tons of pressure, and whatever this is.”

“Fancy mirror walls,” Johnny mused, flaming off and inadvertently plunging them into darkness, though there was enough light from somewhere for them to make out shapes beyond the glass in their way. “Either this is one of those pretentious office buildings or we’re looking at a good old fashioned secret escape tunnel.” 

He rapt a hoof on the glass, testing for a way out.

“Oh, very covert,” Peter muttered irritably. 

“They’ll know we’re here sooner or later,” Johnny retorted without turning round, “but don’t worry, I plan to use your complete lack of charisma to scare them off.” 

He found what he was looking for in the seam connecting the glass to the shaft, a section of wall he could push inward. The glass hissed up into its frame, allowing them to step out into a darkness that felt oddly crowded. 

Johnny flamed on, revealing that this was because they were standing in… 

“A hall of mirrors?” they asked each other. 

Spidey shrugged. The Torch shrugged back, and they set off, though without banter. 

It wasn’t that they were trying to keep up their stealthy routine, if anything Johnny was more than in the mood for a little action, but coming face to face with hundreds of their reflections at the bottom of an underwater shaft was one of those things that shook even the most seasoned of explorers. 

Well, hundreds of Pete’s reflections.


***


Lyja’s underground playpen got weirder as they went on. Other sections of the mirror maze were one way glass, allowing them to look out into rooms, none of which matched. A library, a ballroom, a train station, a Las Pegasus style faux-temple, some kind of indoor graveyard, a generator room, even a full-scale reproduction of the foyer of Canterlot Castle. 

One mirror’s frame was heavily reinforced with steel, because it looked out onto the river outside. They kept well away from that one. 

“Big place,” Spidey observed, considering one mirror showing a living room. It looked like a studio set for a kids puppet show. 

“Maybe too big for Lyja,” Johnny mused, “I mean, she likes to travel with a goon squad when she can, but this doesn’t feel like a Skrull base.”

“Yeah? They did try and snare you with that apartment.” 

“Sure, but the Skrull Empire’s crazy into structure and organisation. None of these rooms fit together. Plus, no armoires, no barracks…” 

“I hear ya.” Spidey was looking around at the seams and pipes visible from certain open sections of ceiling above them, running along the mirror frames. “Weird thing? This place feels familiar.” 

“What am I, your dream journal? Keep the recurring nightmares to yourself, Webs.” 

“First off, this kinda dream would represent self-discovery.” 

“Oh, that’s why it’s so boring!” 

“Second, I mean it. This is a special talent thing.” Spidey trotted over to another mirror, squinting into an office on the other side. “I might have been here before and be unconsciously recognising something.” 

Johnny thought about that. Manehattan had almost as much hidden underground space as the central Equestrian pastures of Canterlot, and villains never seemed to lack for, say, a secret underwater base. But what would Lyja be doing here? 

“Spider-Sense!” Peter hissed suddenly, urgently spinning towards him. 

“Where?” Johnny asked, instantly raising his temperature and readying his hooves. 

A light flicked on, making them both spin towards it. The living room set was starting to fill with a group of ponies, talking animatedly. 

The boys looked at each other, recognising the motley crew and feeling thrown. 

In the lead were the super strong Titania, dressed in her spiked purple wrestling costume, and her husband, the Absorbing Pony, dressed in the orange prison jumpsuit pants and white shirt he always wore for some reason. 

Psychologist speculated he was mocking the system that tried to contain him by turning it into a uniform. Johnny figured Cruel Crusher might just be too dumb to figure out how to take it off. 

Then again, when a Unicorn that size could turn himself into solid steel or rock just by pressing his horn to anything and carried around his prison ball and chain as a trademark weapon, he probably didn’t have much trouble convincing ponies that he could wear whatever he liked. 

Behind them came Spellectro, unmistakable in his green and yellow coat and star-burst mask, trying as ever way too hard to look cool, probably to impress the more imposing figure behind him. Doctor Argonaut, wrapped in the latest model of the armoured harness he’d taken his name from. His tentacles carried him, making no sound but looking painfully solid. It was too easy to imagine what they’d feel like slamming into you. 

“Didn’t even know these guys were out of the Stockade,” Spidey murmured, not sounding worried but not sounding glib either. 

Johnny saw something that made him clench his teeth before he could make his own quip. Lyja was walking into the room. His flaming aura spiked violently as he watched Spellectro grin and wink at the Skrull, who rolled unimpressed eyes. 

“Is it hot in here?” Spellectro asked, his voice muffled through the glass, looking around and frowning. Johnny breathed out, lowering the temperature. 

“Oh please,” he heard Lyja mutter. 

“Hot, cold, tropical or tempestuous!” announced a jovial voice. “We cater to every whim here!” 

Johnny blinked. “Him?”

“…aww man,” Spidey moaned as the pony they were expecting strutted into the room. “Shoulda seen it coming.”

“Huh?” 

“Colonnade,” Peter insisted, “Loggia, hay, Port ‘n’ Go! Portico! They’re all synonyms for…”

“Arcade,” Johnny said grimly, watching the white suited and bow tie wearing Earth Pony pontificate, gesturing to every inch of the living room. “We’re in a Murderworld park.”



***


“—so how much would you pay?” Arcade was saying, grinning that deranged grin of his, though there was an edge of desperation to his voice Johnny recognised from when his traps would turn on him and he needed a hoof out. 

“Whaddaya think, babe?” the Absorbing Pony asked, putting a foreleg around Titania’s shoulder.

“I dunno,” she mused, “it’s a little pricy. How much for the furniture?” 

Arcade blinked at her. “I’m sorry?” 

“Some of these rooms are real fancy! We could make a place up like ‘em when we find one.” 

“Oh, but dear lady, surely you can see you’ve already found the perfect place! Places, even! Any sort of room you want, you shall have!”

“I ain’t feelin’ the giant pinball machine,” the Absorbing Pony said. Titania nodded. 

“Nor I,” Doc Argo said imperiously. 

“Ah, doctor,” Arcade wheedled, “doctor, doctor, doctor! You’re a criminal mastermind! A peerless portrait in the gallery of infamy!”

“An’ don’t you forget it!” Spellectro snapped, ever the fateful lapdog. 

“Maxwell,” Argo said irritably.  

“Surely a stallion of your sophistication can appreciate the more, um, cultured segments of my little hideaway!” 

“It used to be my little hideaway!” Argo snapped, his tentacles writhing violently. “And I shall have it back! Without any of the ridiculous changes you’ve made in my absence!”

“Direct,” Arcade said, nodding hurriedly, “I can respect that.! But I’m sure you can respect that, well, the economy being what it is…”

Argo boggled at the engineer through his polarised goggles. “You steal my lair and then dare to suggest I pay to take it back?!” 

Arcade shrugged. 


***


“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Spider-Pony said distantly. 

“Like a cart wreck,” the Torch agreed. “Want to look away but…can’t.” 


***


“The Stampede Six don’t take no for an answer!” Spellectro snarled, letting lightning play around his body. 

“Settle down, sparky,” the Absorbing Pony warned. “We didn’t see yer name on the place.” 

“Thank you for reminding me,” Dr. Argonaut said peevishly, skewering Arcade with a glare. “There used to be a plaque over the diving bell entrance. A quote from Professor Notoriety.” 

Arcade had to think about it. “Oh, that! Had to remove it when we were putting in the self-destruct mechanism. Sorry.” 

“It gave the place character!” Argo fumed. His tentacles writhed with indignant mechanical noises. 

“That it did, that it did,” Arcade agreed hurriedly, “still got it in my office if you’d like!” 

“What’s it made of?” Titania asked. 

“Gold,” Argo muttered. 

“Huh! Real gold?” 

“What are you implying?!” 

“Oh Crushy,” Titania simpered, clutching her husband’s hoof, “think about it! We could have it over the fireplace or whatever, and you could do your thing an’ beat any fuzz what came snoopin’ around to death! Ya wouldn’t even have to use yer ball!”

“Aww, babe,” the Absorbing Pony sniffed, giving her a hug, “always thinkin’ of me!” 

“That,” Arcade said, clasping his hooves together with gravitas his voice was too oily to pull off, “is exactly the kind of memories we here at Murderworld hope to create for any and all criminal fraternities.” 

“’Ey!” Spellectro warned. “The Stampede Six ain’t no frat! You heard the Doc! This was his base first an’ anypony lookin’ to rent it’s gotta go through him first!” 

Argo looked down at him and nodded to himself contemplatively. 

“Hmm. I must admit that sounds like a reasonable idea. Not bad, Maxwell.” His lacky literally glowed with pride as he turned to the power couple. “Crusher, Skeeter, say, 10% of every take a month? You’d be getting in on the ground floor, underwater technicalities aside, and the best suites would be yours for the taking before I let the rest of the business in on this?”

“Dibs on the furniture?” Titania asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Anything that suits your fancy.”

“Sounds good to us,” the Absorbing Pony agreed, reaching out to shake one of his tentacles. “How’s about after we’re done with the shrimp here I whip up some of my famous casserole to seal the deal?”

“Ah, Crusher,” Argo smiled, “you are a master negotiator.” 

Arcade blinked then began to back up, bumping into the mirror. 

“Now wait a moment!” he snapped, fumbling for a remote control in his breast pocket. One of Argonaut’s crystal tentacles snaked out and crushed it between its pincers. “Uh…what about you, Ms. Laser Lasher?! After all our previous--”

“Yeah, no,” Lyja said as the other villains side eyed her. “I just came to get my money back for your deadbeat disco trap and maybe beat you up a little. Go to town, everypony.”

She tapped a hoof against her segmented chin as the villains closed in on Arcade. “Though I have been looking for my own place…”

“Of course you have!” Arcade cried. “Destroy these fools and--”

“Shut up,” Lyja said simply, holding up a hoof. “That was 10%, wasn’t it, doctor?” 

“For the time being,” Doc Argo said. Two of his tentacles made a shrug like gesture as Titania glared at him. “The cost of living in the city goes up all the time.” 

“But-but-but,” Arcade spluttered, trying to dart this way and that, only to be blocked by his treacherous customers at every turn, “there’s so much more to show you! The doom room! The fun dungeon! Our five-star kitchen! We even have a pool!”

“We’re underwater,” Spellectro said, rubbing his crackling hooves together to build up a lethal charge. 

“Uh…” The engineer looked over his shoulder and grabbed a wall mounted lamp. “You want character? Well how about our classic secret escape tunnels?!” 

He yanked it down. 


***


And suddenly the mirror was sliding into the ceiling, leaving Johnny and Spidey staring at a room full of some of Manehattan’s most wanted. Only mutual shock on all sides was keeping them alive. 

Arcade pounced on the opportunity. “And two, not one but two, pesky superheroes, at no extra charge!”

“Spider-Pony!?” Doctor Argonaut snapped. 

“It’s that pipsqueak from the Fantastic Family!” Titania yelled. 

Lyja swore in Skrullian, taking a step back. 

“Well bye!” Arcade shot forward, galloping past the villains and almost knocking her over as he shoved past her and out through the door. 

“Hey!” Lyja spun, her eyes glowing with angry purple light as she bolted after him. 

“Tag!” Spider-Pony yelled, leaping forward. He leap-frogged over the outraged Absorbing Pony’s buzzcut to tackled her into the hallway. “Hi, I’m your Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Pony! Let’s be friends!” 

The Torch made to blast off after them but came up short as the Absorbing Pony’s ball smashed into the ceiling just above him, forcing him to dart further back into the mirror maze. 

“Yeah, fine!” he called after the web-head, forming a flame construct shield to block Spellectro’s bolts. “I’ll just hang out here, then!”


To be Continued

> Squirm Notice (4)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


13


Applejack had her cart half unloaded when her other job caught up to her. 

She didn’t think about it much, but that was the way she saw it: Sweet Apple Acres came first when she had a choice and, fun as a good old fashioned adventure could be, unless something was about to squash Ponyville flat it always would. That was just prioritising. 

She didn’t feel guilty exactly when she had to drop work to handle some (usually Rainbow or Rarity related) nonsense, what was she, Peter Trotter? But there was saving all of Equestria, if not the whole freakin’ world, which included her family, friends and farm, and there was Mac having to wait for her to pick up the slack because Ponyville decided it wanted to be made of Lego today. 

So when she heard a rainbow streak shooting overhead and Rarity’s giddy laughter heading in the opposite direction she simply flicked her ear and continued to arrange this morning’s harvest. It was a two-part strategy. Whatever happened, she’d have done the important thing first and could give whatever was happening her full attention, and if she took long enough maybe it would go away before she had to get involved. 

One of the barn’s hay bails rustled. 

“I’m gettin’ my rope!” Applejack said sternly. 

“Um…” the hay replied. 

“Oh, howdy Fluttershy. Just a sec.” Applejack sorted a last bushel of Bloody Ploughmans for that Canterlot lodge order, then turned, hesitating as the rest of her caught up with her ears. “…Twilight?” 

A beat.

“Hi?” 

“What’re…?” Applejack glanced out the barn doors. She could see Carousel Boutique’s windows glowing from here. “Yeah, figures. Got half a mind to join ya.”

The Alicorn’s head rose timidly from her thatch cover. 

“I just need a minute,” she mumbled. 

Applejack glanced over her shoulder as distant thunder rumbled in the clouds over the mountains, mulled it over, then half closed one of them with a kick. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

Twilight smiled gratefully and emerged from the straw, with an obligatory strand still clinging to her horn. Applejack took a seat beside her and gave her a minute. The barn was the most obvious place to hide in a farm family and she’d grown up to realise she hadn’t been immediately discovered during her own freak-outs because her family probably understood the strange, sheltering aura of the place better than anypony. 

“Alright, sugar cube, what’s up?” 

Twilight hesitated, sighed, and levitated something out. Applejack gave it a prod then flicked it open. 

“Oooh, nice!” 

To Twilight’s horror she took the thing between her teeth and audibly bit down. A wine glass hum gently shook the rafters. 

“Hmm,” AJ mused, weighing the ring in the pad of her hoof, “decent amount o’ carats in there. Classy!” She smacked her lips. “Slight charcoal aftertaste, though. I’d almost swear somepony made this outta a lump of coal! What spell ya gonna use it for?” 

Twilight blinked at her. “It’s not for a spell…”

“Then what’s all the fuss about?” Applejack waved a hoof at the world outside the barn. 

“I showed it to Fluttershy,” Twilight moaned, “and Spike was there when I found it, so that’s two people who could’ve told Rarity and that’s probably how Rainbow Dash found out, and I don’t even know what’s going on but it’s as good as on Princess Celestia’s desk by now, and I just don’t want to deal with anypony ever again!”

She reared up on her hind legs, hefting an entire hay bail—“This is my kingdom now, Applejack!”—and letting it collapse, covering her completely. 

Applejack choked as this kicked up dust from the floor, trying not swallow wafting stalks of hay. She nosed some aside and managed to grab Twilight’s head by smushing her cheeks as the other pony tried to pull it closed. “Twilight, what in seven shades of Celestia are ya--”

“It’s a wedding ring, AJ!” 

A beat. 

Applejack let go of the princess’ face, unsure if her hat had caught fire and started doing backflips but wouldn’t have been surprised. Her blood and bones had gone so cold it’d probably be a while before she felt anything ever again. 

“That!” Twilight announced, kicking herself free of the hay and pointing an accusing hoof. “That face! That’s what I don’t want to have to keep seeing!” 

“What face?” said Applejack distantly. 

“The one you’re making right now! I don’t want to see it on Dad’s, I don’t want to see it on Shining’s, I don’t want to see it on Johnnycake’s, and who knows what Princess Celestia and Cadence are going to do! Smile, probably!” 


***


Outside, Discord popped into existence, dressed in a bride’s maid dress and flowers, with a shower cap (because bridal shower, you see) and moseyed towards the barn, whistling. Here Comes the Bride, naturally. 

He reached them just in time for Twilight’s eyes to turn purple with furious energy. “And I swear, if Discord takes one of his shots…!” 

Discord froze, then moseyed backwards through his mosey cycle, even whistling in reverse. 


***


Applejack noticed the backwards pop but had more immediate concerns than investigating its source, such as making sure her panicking friend didn’t burn her farm down in violet flames. “Okay, okay, sugar cube? Let’s do what Cadence would do an’ take a big ol’ breath.” 

“Right, right,” Twilight agreed, and hurriedly went through Cadence’s relaxation technique. It took nine breaths before her pupils became visible again. 

“Alright, let’s hear it,” she sighed, flopping her hindquarters down onto the work bench. It was good, dependable apple wood from the orchard, so she winced.

Applejack joined her, blinking. “Hear what?”

Twilight levitated the ring from the floor where AJ had dropped it, spinning it in her field a little to restore its lustre. 

“Oh. Well. Whatcha gonna do?” 

“Go back home and wait for Peter so I can ask if this is what he really wants.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Twilight stared at her. AJ shrugged. 

“Don’t reckon it’s my place to tell ya what to say! Sorry.”

“That’s…” Twilight began, still trying to process, then smiled and settled on, “very you.” 

She reached over and they embraced. “You know you can still give advice here, right?”

“Why,” AJ asked, smirking a slight challenge, “y’gonna take it?” 

“Maybe!” Twilight giggled. She sighed as they released each other. “It’s just, I know you have issues with Spider-Pony.” 

“Hey now, I like Pete just fine!” 

“Yes, out of costume.”

“…huh.” Applejack squinted into the middle distance, realising. “Put like that, I suppose. Be nice if he quit jumpin’ ‘round, runnin’ his mouth.” 

Twilight quirked a brow. “Is that an either/or thing, or…?”

“Both,” Applejack said emphatically.  

It wasn’t like she didn’t get super-folks exactly. Guys who could throw stuff around with their minds or whatever, what was the E.U.P. supposed to do? She wouldn’t like having to step back and let another costume sort it out for her, but was that really so different from what the Elements did? And it certainly wasn’t the vigilante business. A fair few of her childhood heroes had been whatcha might call outlaws! 

But now Twi mentioned it, yeah, there was something about how Peter Trotter could slip on that mask and all of a sudden become this bouncing ball of webs and bad jokes. She remembered snapping at him for it a time or two (dozen) before he and Twilight were official, but she wouldn’t take any of those back. And Pete didn’t seem to take it personally…? Then again, his wise guy routine being impersonal didn’t exactly make any of it better. 

“He says it’s partly a coping thing,” Twilight said. 

“It’s a lot to ask everypony else to put up with,” Applejack countered. 

“So would you…maybe not want that around?” 

“Eh, we Apples adapt. Eventually. I didn’t ask to be born this close to the gates of Tartarus either, but I still wouldn’t change a thing ‘bout Ponyville!” Her pride became tangled in her vow and forced her to add, “Well, I mean, if the mayor ever thinks about retirin’…” 

Twilight chuckled and tucked the ring box back in her wing. “You’d be good at it! If that was what you wanted, of course.”

“An’ what do you want, sugar cube?” 

Twilight took a fortifying breath. 

“I want to know if Peter was going to ask today,” she said, with the uncertainty of articulating a steadfast decision. “That way I can start actually thinking about it and brace for whatever comes next. I think we could make it work but things work now, y’know?” 

“Hey, I hear ya,” Applejack agreed, nodding as she placed a hoof on the Alicorn’s shoulder. “I come from a big family, remember. ’S why I don’t see how I can tell ya what to do. We don’t think ya get to be part of someone’s life like that until they’ve decided what they’re gonna do with that life. Maybe this is right for ya, maybe it ain’t. All ya gotta know is I’ll be there, sure as anythin’!” 

“Thank you,” Twilight whispered. Her wings were part of the embrace this time. 

Applejack let it go on a while, trying to pick her moment. It probably should have been after they heard the thunderclap and saw the flashes of rainbow light, which meant Dash had realised she couldn’t fly all the way to the East Coast from here and had come back to ambush her prey on her home turf. 

“So, ya gonna get ‘round to makin’ those decisions any time soon, or…?” she ventured with as much tact as she could muster. She had orders to fill out here. 

“Oh totally!” Twilight released her, trying not to look too embarrassed. “It’s not talking to Peter…well, I mean, that’s not going to be a walk in the park, then again maybe it will, it’s just everypony else! Rarity’s going to be so into it and Dash absolutely thinks it’s too soon and I haven’t even asked how Spike feels yet…” 

“Oh, that.” Applejack popped her joints and adjusted her Stetson. “Now that I can help with.” 

“Yeah?”

“Toldja; I come from a big family,” Applejack said, smiling as she chose one of her strongest lassos from a row of hooks on the wall, “an’ sometimes that family needs a lil’ tough love about other folks’ boundaries.”

She kicked the barn doors wide. “Hey, Apple Bloom! I’m gonna need your Super Soaker™!”



14


A radioactive blooded spider-totem and a bio-engineered alien shapeshifter walk into a bar…

More accurately Spidey tried to tackle Lyja as she was in the middle of blasting off, sending both of them crashing through a saloon window in Murderworld’s wild west section. They rolled apart, sending Spidey smacking into the piano and starting up a recording of The Entertainer. 

“What is it with you people?” Lyja panted. “It’s not like you’d feel bad if a bus ran him over! So a bunch of crooks ice a bigger crook, so what!”

She hurled purple energy, sending Spider-Pony hopping from table to table. A pair of longhorns on the wall was struck by the barrage and exploded, hurtling the length of the room. An inactive cowpony robot took one through its fake Unicorn horn, still smiling emotionlessly as it toppled over. 

“Well shut my mouth,” Spidey drawled in a bad accent, still dodging. “Must be ten dang seconds since I done heard that particular line of inquiry.”

“Let me guess, you’ve got a little code.” Lyja switched to her laser vision, trying to speed up her barrage and cut the split-second lead her quarry had if she just hurled her powers from her hooves. 

“Professionally curious?” 

“Just wondering why you people always have to complicate things.” 

“Ah, the old simplest solution routine!” Spidey bounded from table to table, purple light decapitating more dummy patrons. “Didn’t take you for an uncomplicated green pony from outer space!”

“You couldn’t take me on your best day! Do you have any idea how low down the Empire’s threat assessment you are?”  

“Ouch! Personal much?” Spidey rolled under a table, Lyja’s beams slicing it in half, and sprang onto the bar. “I thought we were talking about Arcade.” 

Lyja resorted to her hooves again, firing a blast at the large mirror over the bar. Spidey, instinctively ducking, took the ricochet in the back, crying out as he was hurled across the room. Lyja smirked as he hit the floor behind her but managed to roll with it. 

“Fine,” she panted, trying to keep her voice under control as she gathered power in her eyes. “You’re telling me you can’t make an exception for scum like him?” 

Spider-Pony responded by bouncing off a wall, still a hairsbreadth ahead of her, to sucker her into slicing through the cords of the saloon’s chandelier. Lyja yelped and ducked as it crashed down in front of her. She stared at the space she could have been standing in, flinching as the Web-Slinger tumbled out of the air to perch on the wreckage and lean in. 

“I mean, do you want to be that exception?” 

Lyja stared. 

Then Spidey winked.  

Lyja spun, lashing out with a kick her opponent naturally dodged. She grabbed a bottle off a nearby table and lobbed it at his new perch. Spidey reacted to a flare from his Spider-Sense and sprang for the ceiling. Both fighters froze as a hiss rose over the crash of breaking glass. Vapour coiled from the spreading brown stain eating into the wall. It bubbled and peeled. 

“Hey!” Arcade’s furious face poked up from the bar, waving a balled hoof. “That’s the good stuff!”

A beat as he realised what he’d just done and both parties stared at him with equal incredulity. 

“…the good acid?” Spidey asked eventually. 

“Yes,” Arcade said primly, trying to salvage something by adjusting his lapels. 

Lyja grabbed another bottle and lobbed it at him. 

Arcade shrieked and ducked as it shattered against and began to warp another pair of wall mounted longhorns above him. Spidey sprang to cover the engineer from further missiles…and realised that was what the Skrull had been counting on. He managed to twist in mid-air before he landed on the bar but that just meant Lyja’s blast caught him broadside and sent him crashing through the banister of the upper floor. 


***


Arcade stared up at the space where his would-be saviour had been and suddenly there was an angry Skrull in it, her eyes leaking laser energy. 

“Your office!” Lyja barked. “Where is it?” 

“I’m sure we could come to some kind of--” Arcade began tremulously. 

Both of them flinched and spun at a shattering of timbers under crystal. Doctor Argonaut stomped into the room, his tentacles wrenching the saloon doors away and batting aside overturned furniture. 

“I’d advise against that,” he said, scrutinising Lyja. “For one thing he’s turned this place into one of his eyesores and could easily lure you into a trap. Though one wonders what an extra-terrestrial agent would need with Arcade’s private papers.” 

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Lyja snapped, a little too quickly. 

“Oh child, I hardly care,” Argo assured, waving a languid tentacle, “I’m only concerned with eliminating this fool and the arachnid. I’ll busy myself with the former while you finish with the latter. Which way did he go?”

All three villains glanced up at a rapidly descending shadow. 

“Room service!” Spider-Pony called cheerfully, shoving a bed from one of the saloon rooms through the already shattered banister.  

Lyja and Arcade sprang in opposite directions but he’d made sure to aim it at the bar so it would hit that and tip towards Argo. As he’d expected the genius caught it with his tentacles, which left a nice juicy opening for Spidey to exploit. He sprang from the upper level to bounce off the wall and smack into the villain’s back, clinging. 

“Howdy, Doc! Love what you’ve done with the place!”  

“I’ll mount your masked head over my hearth, you impudent little--!”

“Oooh, a hearth! Fancy!” 

Spidey looped a foreleg around Octavius’ neck, partly to give the mad scientist more to worry about, partly to get a firmer purchase. He was having trouble sticking to Argo’s shell beyond just all this thrashing. Could be it’d been coated with some kind of non-stick solution since last time? 

“Bah! Your standards are about as impressive as that third-rate artificer’s aesthetics!” 

Argo finally managed to rip the bed in half, tossing both parts aside and freeing his tentacles to claw blindly for his nemesis. 

“That’s what I enjoy most about your lectures, Doc, the eloquence.”

Spidey ducked as one of the tentacles tried to swat him off and hauled, testing a theory. Octavius roared at the ignominy as this sent them tottering towards Lyja. The Skrull dived aside again. 

Argo slammed one of his tentacles against the wall to steady himself and reached another to heft the still playing piano. Spidey took advantage of this to slam both hooves against his ears, almost more of a slap. The discordant ♪TWUNG♪ of keys as the piano crashed to the floor almost perfectly coincided with the impact. 

Octavius cried out in furious pain, then spun with surprising speed, slamming Spidey into the wall. He clung there, stunned for a second, but managed to bring his hooves up in time to catch another of Ago’s tentacles as it tried to ram him. 


***


To their mutual surprise the wall caved in, sending Spidey tumbling into a candy themed set, still clutching the tentacle, suspended inches from the green frosting grass. The bright colours of giant sweets and gingerbread houses threw Argo for second, like being caught in a tacky spotlight. 

Spidey fired a web-line from his tail, adhering to the spongy floor for extra leverage as he put all his strength into hauling on the tentacle, roaring with the effort as he judo flipped one of his greatest enemies into a chocolate fountain. 

Forgive me, Pinkie Pie.

Spider-Sense! He hit the deck as one of Lyja’s beams knifed through where his head would have been and obliterated a giant candy cane. 

He spun, ready to retaliate with a barrage of web-balls and was caught completely off guard as a green puma pounced on him, just managing to block with his foreleg as it bore him to the ground. 

“Shifting, right…” he grunted, turning his head away from Lyja’s snapping maw. Death by laser puma. He felt Rainbow Dash would’ve approved. 

…and yet no lasers. She was just trying to bite his head off. Or maybe just trying to keep him pinned until—

“I think not!” Doc Argo snarled, looming over them and dripping chocolate. He waved one of his tentacles to clear it as much as he could, then bunched its claws into a fist. “The arachnid is mine! You can contend yourself with Arca—What are you doing?!” 

Lyja and Spidey glanced back through the hole in the wall as Arcade finished fishing a fan out of one of the shattered cowboy robots. In addition to three more of these he’d also salvaged some wires and four castors from the devastated bed, tying them around his hooves. 

“Third rate artificer, am I?” he sneered. He jumped in place, somehow activating his hasty patchwork…skates, Spidey realised as he shot towards them. 

Lyja quickly shifted back to normal as the two of them rolled in opposite directions out of Arcade’s way. Argo stared down at the red and white blur shooting between his tentacles. 

“So long, suckers!” Arcaded yelled, cackling that irritating laugh of his. White sugar trailed behind the whirring fans of his skates like cartoon dust as he swerved onto a dessert themed road, heading for a tunnel on the horizon between two pudding hills. 

“We’re not done!” Lyja snapped, firing purple thrusters from her hooves to blast through the air after him. 

Still on his back, Spidey fired a web-line, managing to snag her tail before Argo could focus on him again. The drag was instantaneous as the genius’ tentacles just missed him. 

I wonder how Johnny’s doing, he thought darkly, watching as Argo spun to give chase, in the rear of the weird convoy. 

“Ow,” he commented dutifully as Lyja’s swerving after Arcade slammed him into a gingerbread lamppost, flipping him onto his front so he could be dragged over every brick-solid gobstopper capstone in the road, “ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…” 


***


“Ow,” the Horseshoe Torch commented dutifully as he completed being smashed through a wall and crashing into something. 

His flame form flickered off and on briefly from the impact and he used a thermal burst to shoot himself backwards and upwards, buying time. He realised he’d crashed into one of the rooks for a giant chess board room. 

Yeah, wouldn’t be a Murderworld production if Arcade didn’t mix up the tackiness with at least one pretentious set. Maybe if I can figure out what these pieces do and how to trigger ‘em…gah, hold that thought. 

The villains were galloping in after him. Titania and Absorbing Pony couldn’t fly but that wasn’t so much of an advantage when there were so many things to just pick up and throw at him. Then there was the one who could fly. 

“Goin’ somewhere?!” Spellectro sneered, shooting towards him, surrounded by a crackling aura. 

Johnny sighed, crossing his forelegs and effortlessly floating aside, leaving the electric villain with a clear path to crash into the ceiling rig illuminating the room. Spellectro yelped and scrabbled to brake on empty air, managing to catch himself on a beam instead of just crashing into it, knocking the wind out of himself. Every spotlight flickered briefly. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. They were at a lame stalemate: he couldn’t touch Spellectro without getting zapped, Spellectro couldn’t touch him without getting burned. So basic! He was on the hit lists of guys like Dr. Gloam and Annihlus and now he was having to come up with a clever solution for one of Pete’s lame-os? 

Absorbing Pony reminded the Torch to be careful what you wish for by lobbing his ball and chain at him. Johnny managed to avoid the ball itself but the end of the chain whipped him in the back, sending him crashing down between a bishop and a pawn. 

“So many ways to crush ya,” the bruiser mused, casually trotting towards him and pressing a hoof to a black piece. His entire body made an unsettling crunching sound as it took on the properties of the material, turning a glossy black. He tapped a hoof against the floor, making cracks. “Yeah, guess this’ll do.”

“Don’t see why I should commit if you won’t,” Johnny winced, rolling out of the way of a crushing stomp. 

He flamed on again, shooting back to avoid Absorbing Pony’s follow up swings and an attempted horn stab. Crusher instinctively backed off as Johnny fired a jet of flame at the space between them, though he wasn’t sure what effect that’d have on these ceramics yet. That was the thing with fighting the Absorbing Pony: he wasn’t complicated, but his powers were and there were only so many ways you could counter them. 

A roaring Titania came at Johnny, although it was muffled by the wrecking ball’s chain in her teeth. 

“Aww!” the Torch cooed, twisting out of its way. “Lookit you two, carrying each other’s baggage! It’s inspirational, really!” 

Titania swung again, smashing a chess piece behind him. She followed it up by releasing her bite, sending it flying past, but something about the glint in her eye made him follow it. Yep, she’d been passing it back to hubby. Johnny managed to form an epidermal shield as Crusher caught it with his telekinesis and spun on his hooves, swing it around twice as fast. The impact sent the Torch shooting halfway across the board. 

“Think the Thing’ll come callin’ when we mail him your head?” Titania called as the pair charged towards him. 

Johnny brought them up short with a quick flame wall and they began to circle each other. “Eh, he's gotten weirder fan mail. So! Gotta ask, a secret HQ? You guys didn’t seem the type.”

“Hey, my lil’ pony deserves to put her hooves up in style,” the Absorbing Pony said. 

“Y’know what,” Johnny agreed, nodding, “I can respect that.”

“Ya got manners, I’ll give ya that,” Titania said. 

She held out a leg to her husband, both to affectionately squeeze his hoof and to allow him to touch one of the spikes on the sleeve of her costume, converting to a metallic form with his own set of spikes. Much more reliably fireproof than black ceramics. 

“Since we’re shooting the breeze,” Johnny continued casually, buying himself more time, “how’re Volcania and the Molecule Mage?”  

That made the couple pause. 

“Er,” the Absorbing Pony fumbled, caught totally off guard. 

“Love ’em!” Titania supplied hastily. “Great pair o’ ponies, but…”

“But she’s crazier than he is,” Johnny said in a rare act of partisan charity. 

“For real,” the Absorbing Pony agreed. Titania elbowed him, eliciting a gong noise. “What?!”

“That’s my best friend yer talkin’ about!” 

“Aww babe, y’know what I mean…” Crusher stopped and sniffed. “What’s that cookin’ smell?” 

“Skill,” Johnny smirked, nodding at their hooves. 

They looked down to see that the entire time they’d been circling, his flame aura had been carving through the marble floor. 

“Aww, you l’il--" the Absorbing Pony began as Titania took a hasty step backwards. His forelegs were still squarely in the circle when the floor collapsed, so he tumbled face first into the void. 

The Torch waved cheekily to Titania and sprang into it as she lunged across the gap towards him. 


***


He channelled fragments of epidermis into a fireball on the way down, lobbing it like a small cannonball at the Absorbing Pony as he was climbing out of his crater in…a pinball machine, naturally. 

A Princess Celestia themed one. Classy. 

Johnny hesitated in mid-air at an approaching buzzing sound. He turned, then threw himself flat against a plastic likeness of the day bringer as Arcade shot past on homebrew skates. 

“Move it, Storm!” Lyja snapped, twisting to avoid him. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” Spidey supplied, trailing from a line behind her.

Doctor Argonaut and Johnny both yelped as the last pursuer almost collided with the Torch. One of the doctor’s tentacles inadvertently smacked a button with Celestia’s smiling face on it and the entire room shook. 

Johnny sighed, turning towards the rumbling and knowing what he’d see. Giant gates along the edges of the room were opening, releasing a pair of enormous white pinballs the size of two Bulk Biceps wrapped around each other. 

“This used to be my garage!” Argo bellowed, carrying himself out of their path. 

Johnny twisted around one and shot upwards, but winced as he collided with a translucent glass ceiling, designed to mimic the cover of a pinball cabinet. Great, low flight space, obstacles on the field which, knowing Arcade, would probably be explosive, and here came Spellectro to join Agro and the Absorbing Pony gunning for him. 

Wonder how Rarity’s doing, he thought idly, floating effortlessly out of the way so a screaming Spellectro launched into one of the flippers and sent himself careening into a Nightmare Moon drain.



15

“Very well,” Rarity announced as Rainbow Dash flapped down to hover above the grass of a clearing. “Here I am. You said you wished to talk, so talk.”

The Pegasus blinked at her. “Say what?” 

“No, no, darling, you first.” Rarity smiled charitably and conjured a piece of paper from her bags. “You sent me this letter after all.”

“Uh, no,” Dash retorted, producing her own from her wing pocket. “You sent me this. Figured you’d finally snapped outta this wedding daze!” 

She looked the tailor up and down. “Dunno why.” 

“What?” Rarity asked defensively, carrying saddlebags bulging with fabrics, her mane adorned with gems and pins, and what seemed to be a swan costume on her back. 

“You really don’t get to ask that question.” Dash indicated the limp, doll eyed swan’s head with her own. “Am I gonna regret it if I ask what’s that’s for?” 

“You know, sometimes you have so little imagination—!” Rarity began and then focused, telekinetically waving her letter. “So you’re saying you didn’t ask to meet me here to apologise?” 

“Why would I apologise?! You’re the one with trying to dress Twilight up as a swan!” 

“It’s a theme!” 

“How long’s this tHeME been in a binder under your bed?” 

Rarity flushed. “Oh, you…know about those.”

“Not ‘til just now.” Dash’s eyes glinted viciously. 

“So much for neutral ground,” Rarity huffed. 

“Your idea,” Dash insisted, waving her letter, “not mine.” 

“It most certainly was not!” Rarity scrutinized the waving pattern of clouds and fireworks on the paper. “Um. Darling. You didn’t think it…odd that I used the sort of stationary one would use for a foals’ birthday party invitation?” 

“No? Whaddaya mean? It’s so me! Lookit the clouds!” 

“Alright, let’s try again.” Rarity telekinetically held up the white and gold embossed card. “This is also very me, but it’s not the sort of thing you’d use to invite somepony to neutral ground? Which I now realise is on the outskirts of town…” 

“Nah, too fancy,” Dash said. She squinted. “Although isn’t that the font Sweet Apple Acres uses for their Gourmont range?” 

“Oh dear sweet Celestia,” Rarity said distantly, pupils shrinking. 

Something dropped out of the trees above them, bouncing off her head and rolling between them.

It was a zap apple. Burrowed into its skin were the kind of little doohickies foals used to make potato batteries. This seemed to be what was causing the apple to hum. With increasing volume. 


***


Dash just stared, nonplussed by the sight while Rarity, a native of Ponyville and having gone through a scamp phase with the local farms like most foals, had the instinct to turn and hurl herself over the fence. 

Even with her back to it the blast of light from an overloaded zap apple was overwhelming, devouring the whole world and reducing it to an irritating whine in her ears. 

One of her swan’s wings got under a hoof and sent her tumbling, rolling through the bushes and even further into the woods…which was probably what Applejack had been counting on. 

Rarity mewled to herself in stylish terror as she staggered to all fours, twisting this way and that. She made for some shapes in the distance then froze when her brain finally made sense of them. They were picnic benches and jungle gym equipment. 

The clearing had sounded familiar when she’d read it in the faux invitation. She’d walked right into the trap with an obliviousness that could only come from knowing the area all her life. Applejack had positioned her and Rainbow Dash perfectly on the edge of one of those corporate retreat spaces, the type Mayor Mare had set up to try and draw some money to Ponyville. 

A few miles of thick canopy to keep Dash almost grounded, tons of hiding places and all sorts of nasty, dirty, scratchy plants to mess up Rarity’s beautiful coat, among other things. Also nopony around, since the retreats only operated in the spring. The only immediate buildings would be a series of glorified sheds and a café, all locked. There was Spoiled and Filthy Rich’s second home, which they rented out as a hotel for such occasions, but that was on the other side of the woods and there was no way Applejack would allow her to reach a main road like that. 

Ah, yes, that was another thing, wasn’t it? She wasn’t familiar with the retreat except generally, but Applejack had practically grown up in these woods and besides, the place would come with a map to keep guests from accidentally meeting anypony who used their hooves for a living. 

She probably hadn’t had time to plant traps in all the obstacle courses and rest spots, but Rarity wouldn’t put it past her. 

Sounds of snapping twigs and whipping air came from somewhere behind her, so she bolted for a bridge down the slope, hoping she wasn’t leaving a trail of costume jewellery and…uh…costumes behind her. 


***


She whipped around one of the pillars and pressed herself against it, balanced on her hind legs and realising that was a bit of a mistake when she was weighed down by two heavy saddlebags and a thematic swan costume. Upon reflection Rainbow was right, it was a little much…

Rainbow’s voice was angrily yelling something but it was echoing enough to sound like it was coming from anywhere. And Applejack wasn’t yelling back. Oh dear. She was serious. 

There was a hissing sound that almost snapped Rarity’s terrified spine in half from its suddenness and a piercing shriek she’d only heard Rainbow Dash, brave, bold Rainbow Dash, make in relation to the Wonderbolts. It was universe shaking to hear it made in terror. 

There was more rustling somewhere. 

Rarity hastily pulled a swath of purple fabric out of her bag with her teeth and expertly tied it around the swan’s head. A few quick nips and tucks and it looked enough like her mane to pass muster, though she’d've liked a needle, thread and comb to do the job properly. 

Still on her hind legs, she irritably struggled with the thing until it was (sort of) balanced on her shoulders and stood on tippy hooves to push its head, resplendent with its new mane, over the railings of the bridge. 

Nothing happened. 

Still on tippy hooves and carrying her ridiculous burden, Rarity scurried behind the nearest tree, complete with a ladder for a zip-line course. 

She stuck the swan’s head out from around the trunk. 

Something whizzed violently out of nowhere, smacking it right in the eye. Rarity shrieked, then made a confused noise as the swan’s head flopped towards her. It was...wet? 

She scrabbled in her bags until she found a small mirror, took a second to adjust her mane and admire how well her eyeshadow was holding up, and telekinetically levitated it a few inches in front of her, trying to angle it roughly in the direction the blast had come from. 

Nothing but trees and sunshine. A perfect Ponyville day. 

Gulping, Rarity hastily tied some silver and purple fabric together, wadding it into a ball. She counted down from five and hurled it into the open. 

A rope whipped out of some bushes and snapped it out of the air like a lunging predator, dragging it helplessly into the foliage. Rarity was already galloping in the other direction, further into the course. 

Wide open clearing before her, no-no-no, that wouldn’t do, a nice tall tree, that’s what she needed! 

Applejack kicks trees out of the ground for a living, observed a terrified, treacherous part of her brain.

Quiet, you!

She crashed through more bushes on the left and weaved through some trees. Come on, come on, those depressing company ponies simply adored zip-lines! Heaven knew why. But they came with ladders, so she could at least hide somewhere she could see Applejack coming. Maybe she’d even be able to spy a way out from up there. 

She skidded to a halt in front of a racetrack, interspersed with sandpits, and caught her breath. 

Something lunged for her out one of the pits! She screamed and tried to swat it in the face with the swan’s head. 

“Ow!” 

“Rainbow Dash?!” 

“Rarity?!” The Pegasus shook sand out of her coat and danced around her. “Awesome! You’re good with knots! Get this off me!” 

“Stand still,” Rarity snapped, grabbing Dash by the shoulders so she could see what was going on. She pulled her hooves away in disgust. Dash’s face was wet and slightly muddy. “Ugh! What did she do to you?!”

“Tied my wings up,” Dash said with bitterness, the promise of vengeance and a little, just a little, bit of respect. 

“I meant your face! Oh, it’s all over my hooves!” Rarity got to work, using her magic to force the reliable knots apart. “Truce? We need to get out of here.” 

“Fine.” 

Dash scanned the trees, shivering. At first Rarity thought it was from dread of the farmgirl, but realised it was the water all over her front and offered a cloth for mopping. 

“Thanks,” Dash conceded, gratefully towelling off and accepting another to try and warm up. “Think your fabrics could hold her?” 

“Out of the question,” said Rarity, who still harboured vision of an avian bridal procession, with Rainbow as a bird of paradise, naturally. 

“What about that thing, then?” Dash indicated the swan. “Almost took my nose off!” 

“You startled her!” Rarity stroked its beak, then shivered. Gads, that was cold. “Uh, I mean me. What is this stuff?”

“Mountain water, I think.” Dash shivered from the memory. “The really cold stuff.” 

“Applejack’s…shooting at us with a water pistol?” 

“A Super Soaker™,” Dash said leadenly. 

A beat.

“What?” Rarity asked eventually. 

“It’s a theme,” Applejack said behind them. 

Rarity spun as Dash, to her credit, shoved her aside to shield her but she still felt the biting cold from just some droplets that flew over Dash’s shoulder, and the force knocked them both over. The swan at least cushioned their fall. Dash rolled off Rarity, squawking with fury and murder in her eyes. Rarity pawed at the sunlight through leaves above her, helplessly pinned by her heavy saddlebags. 

“Nuh uh,” Applejack snapped as Rainbow lunged for her. She pumped the trigger, squirting quick, freezing blasts. 

“Gyagh! Nygh! Quit it! Whoo!” Dash danced back with each shot, cowering under her wings. “Alright, alright!”

“Gonna be in a bit, yeah,” Applejack agreed. 

Dash howled as she fired a concentrated jet over both wings. “SUNS OF TARTARUS, THAT’S COLD!” 

“Can’t have ya chewin’ through my rope,” Applejack observed mildly. “Gotta buy it myself. But I reckon ya ain’t gonna be flyin’ away in a hurry.” 

“I’m gonna--” Dash spat, but froze, hooves still clenched as AJ swung the dripping barrel up to point right between her eyes. 

“Hello,” Rarity trilled, yelping as it was trained on her, but recovering as much poise as she could while impersonating a helpless turtle, “—agh!—ah ha ha, yes, expert marksmanship darling, you deserve all the prizes, we were just wondering, Rainbow and I, you know, um…what are you doing?!” 

“Givin’ Twilight a hoof,” Applejack replied, beaming to rub it in.

“Ah, so you know?” 

“Yep.”

“Isn’t it marvellous?” Rarity tried. 

“Oh please,” Dash muttered, but shut up when AJ’s eyes shot towards her.

“Yes, well done,” Rarity grinned, holding out a single foreleg for a hoof up. “Rainbow’s been simply beastly, hasn’t she? Understandable I suppose,” she added hastily as a drop of freezing water from the lowered barrel splashed between her legs, “I mean, it’s a big change, we’re all a little emotional, but clearly you understand we must support Twilight!” 

“That’s what I’m doin’,” Applejack said, almost pressing Rarity’s head down through the earth with her glare. “As in, I figure it’ll be a big help to throw you two lunatics down the same hole ’til she’s sorted this out.”

Rarity blinked up at her. “What?” 

“You heard me. That ring don’t mean a thing to us, an’ if Twilight wanted either of your advice she’d’ve asked for it. Like she did with me when she was hidin’ in the barn.” 

“Hiding?” Dash asked, squinting. 

“From the pair of ya, an’ I’m not surprised!” Applejack thrust an accusing hoof at her while keep the Soaker trained on Rarity. Dash backed up as if it was an oncoming siege engine. “You flew halfway to Manehattan before ya realised ya couldn’t make it! You’ve been tearin’ up the skies all day, probably practicin’ what you’ll do to Pete’s face on some innocent clouds!”

“It’s way too soon!” Dash snapped. 

“’Course it is!” Applejack snapped back. 

“What? You agr—? Then what the—?!” Dash brandished her freezing wings incredulously. 

“’Cause it ain’t our place to make this decision! You’ll have your time to tell Twi what ya think an’ you’ll do it like an adult! She’s the one makin’ this call, not us, an’ it ain’t our right to tell her how to make it.” 

“That’s not what I’m doing!” 

“Nah, you’re throwin’ a tantrum ’cause you don’t wanna deal with a change like this ’til you’re ready!” Applejack snapped, lashing the Soaker furiously. Rarity flinched her head to the side to avoid a smattering of freezing droplets. How much water could she have left...? 

Dash stared at her furious almost-sister, opening and closing her mouth in outrage a few times, then looked away guiltily. 

“An’ you,” Applejack snarled, obliterating Rarity’s brief flicker of satisfaction. 

“Me?!” Rarity protested. 

“Stopped by the boutique to deliver your invite.” Applejack’s eyes were hard as jade and volcanic as Mt. Vesuvius. “Saw what you were puttin’ together. Had to be half yer dang stock! Didja even stop to think if Twi was gonna say yes?” 

Rarity’s mouth hung open. 

“Figured.” Applejack shook her head. “Y’know, it’d be one thing if ya were usin’ this to plan your dream weddin’ or somethin’ pathetic like that, but dang, you’re actually throwin’ together your dream Twilight Sparkle weddin’. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so mad I could hardly see straight.” 

“When did I become the villain here?!” Rarity asked indignantly. 

“Nopony said nothin’ about villains,” Applejack said in a tone that made it clear there wasn’t going to be an argument. “If Twi goes ahead with this you’re gonna listen to her an’ give her what she wants. If she says no you’re gonna support her, not try an’ talk her back into it.” 

“But why are you all acting like it’s a bad thing?” Rarity almost wailed. “Twilight getting married? This is a love story!” 

“Nopony’s actin’ like…” Applejack trailed off and shot Rainbow Dash a glare. “Alright, but I talked to Spike an’ the others. They’re not doin’ nothin’ ’til they know what Twi wants, like friends should. There’s a right side here but it ain’t either of yours. Now c’mon back to the castle, she’ll set ya straight. An’ you’re gonna sit there, towel off, an’ listen to her. ’Cause this is about her, not you.” 

“Fine,” Dash muttered sullenly. 

Rarity grunted as Applejack hauled her to all fours. “Fine,” she agreed. “I…supposed I did get a bit carried away.” 

“Rarity, ya made a whole dang swan.”

“It was a theme! Anyway, I appreciate your candour Jackie, but really! Hunting us down? Spraying us like we were ill behaved cats?” 

“Worked, didn’t it?” 

“You didn’t spray her at all!” Dash protested, outraged at this injustice. 

“Good point,” Applejack smiled as she pumped her weapon and whirled on Rarity. “Better make sure all the fight’s gone outta ya…”

“Applejack, don’t you dare, don’t you dare—GYAGH, JACKIE, NO-HAW-HAW-HAUUUUGH!”


To be Continued 

> Squirm Notice (5)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


16


Arcade had begun construction on one of Murderworld’s trademarked roller coasters (booby trapped, of course) before realising the constraints of Doc Argo’s underwater base meant it couldn’t run more than the length of a waiting room, and any attempt to expand would mean carrying through a reinforced wall and flooding the whole place, making one of his favourite features an impossibility and a frustrating waste of time. 

Recuperating this waste of money and materials was one reason he was trying to unload the place, along with the frightful state of his market: villains just weren’t buying themed locals like they used to. And the Maggia and their ilk! No imagination whatsoever. 

He used this frustration to squeeze through a tight gap in the half-finished support beams of his aborted coaster. Beyond was a tangle of unfinished construction, a honeycomb of Argo’s old rooms. If he could stick to the shadows he’d avoid the farce bulldozing the place (oh, if only the supervillain racket came with insurance, like normal amoral enterprises!) and reach an escape route.  

He froze as a sudden heat swept through gaps in girders, followed by an approaching shudder. This turned out be the right move, as the floor in front of him briefly turned molten before erupting. The Horseshoe Torch burst through the liquified concrete, panting with exertion.

“Tired, punk?!” Titania’s voice taunted through the gaping hole. A generator from the power station below them hurtled out of it, narrowly missing the twisting Torch and showering the room with shattered tracks. 

“Do you know how long that took to install?!” boomed Argo’s outraged voice.

Arcade darted around the gap, lunging for a beam. He scurried up it like a duded-up squirrel as the Torch dodged snapping tentacles, clambering out of a newly made gap in the tracks and balancing on them. The wisdom of this decision was thrown into question as the fight rocked the entire structure.   

“Going somewhere?” 

Arcade spun at the ragged voice behind him, readying an acid squirter in his boutonniere (the classics never went out of style), freezing at the sight of Spider-Pony balanced on an incline. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Spidey panted, as light and flames stabbed between twisted metal, “it’s just way easier to wrangle these jerks without your slime trail slipping everypony up. Best to get you to some bolt hole and scrape you up later.” 

“Charming,” Arcade huffed. The Absorbing Pony’s wrecking ball crashed out of the tracks right behind him, sending his coat tails billowing. “But reasonable! Let us away!” 

He galloped back along the track, Spider-Pony following. Then it was into a tunnel behind him and through an air duct, a cramped journey through damp smelling shadows to tumble out of another one in what looked like an oversized lounge. 

It seemed to be going for a mix of operatic grandeur and timeless comfort. It just wound up looking like a god’s tacky idea of a ’50s/’70s penthouse, and in the centre…

“What is that monstrosity?” Spider-Pony asked, staring.

“Here when I, uh, acquired the place,” Arcade muttered, galloping to an office door. “Ask the good doctor!”

They were referring to a faux marble statue depicting an idealised version of Argo, balanced triumphantly on two tentacles with a limp Spider-Pony dangling in the others.  

“And I thought Johnny and I had issues,” Spidey shuddered. 

“Forget your flaming friend!” Arcade snapped, patting his lapels. “I can’t find the key!”

“To your archive?”

“To my escape--” 

Arcade froze, his freckles standing out even more against his blanching cheeks. 

“Why are you looking for my archive?” 

“Because you owe us some serious real estate,” Spider-Pony snarled, eyes blazing purple as Lyja shifted back to her true form. 

“M-M-M-Ms. L-Laser! Surely we can--”

“You tried that already. This it?”

“My archive? Uh, y-yes indeed, my own private sanctum santorYAGH!” 

Arcade flung himself to the obnoxious carpeting as Lyja eye blasted the door behind him out of its frame, scattering into the office beyond in fragments. He looked up, pupils shrinking, as she stood over him, readying another blast. 

“Then what do I need you for?” 

Arcade cried out in terror at an explosion and the sound of shattering glass…and realised Lyja hadn’t fired and was surprised as he was. 


***


A large mirror over the fireplace had been blasted open, Titania and Spellectro flying out of it to crash into furniture. The true-blue Spider-Pony hopped out, firing a tail web to dangle above all that broken glass, and turned to take in the statue, freezing. 

“Sweet Celestia’s harmony,” he breathed in horror. 

“My relaxation room!” came Argo’s voice, bouncing out of the hole, which had served as one of the entrances for Arcade’s mirror maze. “You keep out of there!” 

“Wish I could,” Spidey said, still staring. 

Lyja fired, setting off his Spider-Sense and sending him bouncing off a fainting couch Rarity wouldn’t have sullied her spine with and onto a nearby wall. 

“So where were we?” he called cheerfully to the Super Skrull, already preparing another blast. 

“Persistent little—!” Lyja growled, hurling waves of energy from each hoof. 

Spidey jumped off the wall as she demolished it, bouncing off a recovering Titania and behind the statue for cover. Lyja howled with outrage as her shots only succeeded in chipping bits off the fake hero gripped in the marble tentacles. 

“I’ll just mosey out of your way…” Arcade began, belly crawling into his office. 

Lyja rounded on him, which was all the opening Spider-Pony needed, bounding off the top of that appalling statue and cannoning into her back. Arcade squealed, ducking and covering as they sailed over him. 

The two rolled, grappling. Arcade’s (formerly Argo’s, Peter supposed) office was open plan, so they had a long way to go before finally stopping, Spidey on top. His quip was cut off by his Spider-Sense, prompting him to yank his head back as Lyja fired an eye blast, showering them in ceiling plaster, then kicked him in the stomach. 

“aH,” Spidey wheezed, backing up and clutching his gut, “sO tHa’S wHaT j’NnY s’W ’n Ya…”

“See…right…right through you…” Lyja panted, shaking plaster dust out of her mane. 

Spidey spun, firing twin web-lines to snag a startled Arcade and haul the engineer into his hooves. He twisted back towards Lyja, holding Arcade in front of him as an equine shield. “But did you see this coming?!”

“Oh wow,” Lyja deadpanned, levelling her charging hooves and her eyes leaking Kirby Krackle, “two targets, neither of whom I like. Whatever shall I do?” 

“Suffer internal bruising and a mild concussion’s my bet,” Spidey said pleasantly, and sprang to the ceiling, taking the squirming Arcade with him. 

Titania was charging into the room, eyes widening along with Lyja’s as they realised the strong–mare's quarry was now gone and she had too much momentum to stop herself. 

Titania managed to inadvertently turn just enough to ram her side into Lyja, avoiding impaling the Skrull on her spiked leggings as she drove the breath from the alien’s lungs. Along with the energy in Lyja's hooves. Spellectro took it face first as he galloped into the office and sailed across the lounge, smashing into Argo’s antique collection. 

Titania and Lyja slammed into an office wall, toppling several of many filing cabinets and sending papers fountaining into the air. 

“Nah,” Spidey breezed to Arcade, dropping off the ceiling as the engineer tried to break his grip, “you’ve had a stressful day!” 

He shoved Arcade into a swivel chair so hard it spun, weaving webbing to secure him as it went. “So sit a spell! Preferably of the dizzy variety!” 

Arcade groaned queasily, head slumped as the chair slowed. Spidey took advantage of the brief lull to examine some papers drifting to the floor. One drooped over his head and he flinched, pulling it off. He squinted at a photo of some warehouses. “Property listings?” 

“Get away from those!” Lyja shrieked. 

The savagery in her voice startled Spidey so much he froze, just as she fired again. 

Spellectro, pulling himself groggily out of Argo’s antiques display, was driven back into it as the web-slinger crashed on top of him. 


17


Spike was sitting at one of Sugar Cube Corner’s booths when Twilight finally found him. 

“Hi?” she said tentatively. 

Spike looked up from assorted wrappers covering a sheet of parchment, scattering some of them as he leaped at her for a relived hug. 

“Uh,” he mumbled eventually, releasing her, abashed. He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. “’Sup? Just...taking a snack break.” 

“Pinkie said,” Twilight agreed. She glanced at the table and squinted. Spike reached for his parchment, but she was already levitating it. She blinked. “A pros and cons list?”

“Well…” Spike glanced mortifyingly at the floor, shuddering between the urge to scuff it with a foot and refusing to be that much of a cliché. “Gotta have those before you can have a list, heh…”

“Good point,” Twilight said, looking it over again to make sure she hadn’t somehow missed something. 

Other than Pros and Cons in Spike’s neat, professional Canterlot cursive the sheet was blank, unless you counted a few crumbs. 





She telekinetically rolled it up and stashed it away in her tail, out of habit and because it was considered a sin in the Sparkle household to waste good stationary, then sat down next to him. 

“I’m sorry I just teleported away like that. I should have talked to you about this. You were right there!” 

“You were freaking out,” Spike soothed, waving a dismissive paw. 

“Oooh yeah. Big time.”

“I mean, I would’ve!” 

“Pretty sure if you were getting engaged my freak out would be even bigger,” Twilight snickered. “And then there’s Princess Celestia, Rarity, Mom…”

They both stared into nothing and shuddered. 

“It’d be okay, though,” Spike rallied. 

“She’d ask why I didn’t tell her! And it’d be because I was freaking out and trying to organise everything and she’d think that was an excuse to avoid her, and--”

“I meant you and Peter.”

Twilight blinked at him. 

“Y’know.” Spike shuffled slightly, trying to maintain relaxed body language even though she could see how hard he was gripping his tail. “If you went through with it.”

“Well that’s good,” Twilight smiled. “It’d be important that the three of us got along.” 

Spike’s turn to blink. 

“Because we’d be sharing the castle, obviously!” 

“Right!” He looked away, embarrassed at how quickly and obvious his relief was. “Right. Obviously.” 

She put a hoof on his shoulder. 

“Spike, even if I was going to say yes, you’ll always be part of my life. And I’ll always respect what you want. If you decided to go your own way after something that big…it’d be hard, but I’d be happy for you. Please believe that.” 

“Yeah, well, uh…” Spike examined his talons like it was no big deal, and coincidently avoiding eye contact. “Someone’d have to take your dictation, I guess.”

“And I’d like that someone to be you, for as long as possible.” 

She put a wing around him, pulling him in for a hug. Spike returned it, blushing. Then blinked. 

“Wait,” he realised, “do you mean you’re not getting engaged?” 

“Not today, anyway,” Twilight said simply, but she couldn’t keep an exhausted undercurrent out of her voice. 

“Huh.” Spike scratched his head as they got up to leave. “You sure? You know I’d have gone along with you guys 100% no matter what, right?”

“That’s good to hear but…” Twilight sighed, then shook her head. “Peter Trotter is a lot of things Spike, but he and I…Cadence and Shining we aren’t.” 

Her eyes sparkled as her horn lit up with teleportal magic. “Not yet.”

“Uh…cool?” Spike decided as lavender light swallowed them. 


18


“My relaxation room!” Argo cried. “You keep out of there!” 

“Ahem.” 

Argo turned away from the shattered mirror he’d been staring out of. A flaming boxing glove powered into the centre of his harness, sending him skidding. 

Johnny scowled at how little damage his construct seemed to have done, but tech-villains did have this annoying habit of fireproofing their armours and it wasn’t like he was about to try that particular move on the dude’s exposed face. Razza frazza ethics… 

A chain rattled behind him, winding up. Johnny shot upwards, flattening himself against the ceiling and wincing as Absorbing Pony’s wrecking ball hurtled inches below his stomach. Doc Argo just managed to bring two tentacles up to catch it before it collided with his face, boggling in terrified outrage through his goggles. 

“Uh, sorry Doc!” an abashed Absorbing Pony called. “All these reflections throw off yer aim, y’know?” 

“Thanks for the idea,” Johnny cooed, hovering in front of the Unicorn and flaring. 

Argo and Cruel Crusher howled as his blinding white light flashed at them from every angle. Johnny, his own eyes squeezed shut seconds before pulling his manoeuvre, focused on the Absorbing Pony and put his shoulder against the villain’s chest. Crusher was still armoured, but Johnny hadn’t been planning to move him that way. 

Channelling the force of a jet engine out through his legs, sending the pair of them rocketing through multiple mirrors and rooms, conveniently bowling Argo over with the thermal wind, that was how Johnny planned to move him! 

Even a metal pony couldn’t take that much punishment for long, but Johnny’s burning epidermis offered only so much protection itself and he was eventually shaken off, feeling like a wad of gum that’d been stuck to an over performing tilt-o-whirl.

Man, Arcade probably had one of those around here somewhere… 

Crusher had scraped a groove into the floor as they crashed through the scenery and he now sprawled groaning in it, flickering between flesh and metal. Johnny would’ve joined him down there if his flame hadn’t stayed on, keeping him hovering just above the floor. He shook his head to clear it and take stock.


***


His initial disorientation was probably an intended part of the general Murderworld aesthetic, all those different settings crammed together. For a second he’d thought they’d somehow shot all the way to Canterlot but realised it was only that fake castle foyer.

Fighting nausea, Johnny flamed off and dropped to the floor. A tile under his hoof clicked. 

“Aww no…”

Princess Celestia! Thousands of her! 

Johnny flamed back on out of shock, staring nonplussed at the translucent…holograms of Celestia, he realised. 

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony!” sputtered multiple, clumsily edited loops, “I-ah-’m-very g-Disco-point-’d-d-d-in-You?!”

“Don’t even wanna know,” Johnny muttered, shaking his head. 

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony! I-ah-’m-very g-Disco-point-’d-d-d-in-You?!”

“My music room!” snapped Argo, charging through the impromptu corridor. “What has he done to my music room?!” 

“Okay, seriously,” Johnny called over the loops, “what kind of lair was this?”

“MINE!” Argo roared. Johnny realised what that grinding metallic noise had been: the doctor was still carrying Absorbing Pony’s weapon, dragging it behind him and was now swinging it back— 

Argo blinked as the Torch burst like a priceless vase under his new toy. (He’d also almost brought it down on its original owner’s skull, but the accident that had telepathically linked him to his harness had removed Otto Octavius’ never particularly high regard for other lives long ago.) 

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony!”

A flash to the right. Another Horseshoe Torch blazed merrily by some columns! Ago swung again, demolishing both. 

“I-ah-’m-very g-Disco-point-’d-d-d-in-You?!”

“Decoys,” the genius snarled. “Cowardly, Storm, even for you!” 

“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” Johnny’s voice called from somewhere in the Celestial herd. 

Argo extended his free tentacles as far as possible, probing for the boy’s scrawny neck. His pincers snapped on nothing. 

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony!”

“Outta morbid curiosity,” Johnny echoed from somewhere else, “who’s twisted idea was this?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I-ah-’m-very g-Disco-point-’d-d-d-in-You?!”

“This. This whole mommy issues thing. You or Arcade?” 

“What?!” Argo snapped, rearing back in shock. “How dare you! I’m not that sort of pony!” 

“And what sort’s that?!” He could hear the self-satisfied smirk in the boy’s voice. 

Argo stomped through the holo-Celestia’s, squinting, hunting.

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony!” “My little pony!” 

Argo whirled but hesitated at the sight of the Torch before him, almost overbalancing as the ball clanged to the tiles. 

Which was what the real Johnnycake Storm, flamed off and diving through the hologram on Argo’s left, had been hoping for, springing off the ball and leapfrogging off the genius’ shell, slapping the back of his head en-route and cackling as he tumbled back among the Celestias. His decoy crumbled, bathing Argo in the smell of smoke. 

“I-ah-’m-very g-Disco-point-’d-d-d-in-You?!” “What she said!” 

Argo bellowed with rage…then hesitated, shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony! I-ah-’m-very g-Disco-point-’d-d-d-in-You?!”

Smiling with self-satisfaction, Argo raised himself on his rear tentacles and scanned the room. The holo-Celestia’s were still too thick for him to make out the floor, so he simply turned to the left wall, running a tentacle over it like a hoof until he found the right spot. 

“H-hello, my-Little-p-pony! I-ah-’m-very g-Dis--”

And smashed it in, dragging out a sparking tangle of cables and machinery in his pincers.

“D-d-D-d-D-dddddddin-oooooooo--”

All but two of the flickering princesses vanished and those had no audio to badly synch up with their moving mouths. Apart from the semiconscious, now flesh Absorbing Pony the floor was bare. But a section was missing…

“Ah,” Agro sneered, lowering himself towards it, “at least he left my old escape hatch. Did you really think that would save you, boy?!”  

“Nah,” said a flaring light behind him, “just some time.” 

The Torch rocketed into Argo’s back, slamming the yelping genius into the drop. 

“By the way,” he called as the scream grew longer and more urgent, “pretty sure Arcade renovated some!” 

Octavius’ scream carried on for a few more beats before being cut off by a metallic clang. Johnny didn’t bother to speculate how far he’d fallen or what he’d landed on, simply slamming the hatch shut and welding it. Not that he seriously expected that to do more than slow Argo down, but…

He frowned, looking up to see what felt wrong. 

That stupid wrecking ball was levitating a little above him, glowing the same blue as Crusher’s eyes. Before Johnny could dart out of the way the chain whipped around him, then he was shooting across the room to stare, dazed, into the Unicorn’s upside down face. 

“Hey,” the Absorbing Pony said casually. 

Johnny squinted, still disorientated. “…hey?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” 

“…no?” 

Crusher grinned and began to wind up. 


19


“Stand still, runt!” Titania snarled, headbutting and stomping. 

Their melee had carried out of Argo’s relaxation room and into one of his adjacent workshops, which Arcade had left intact. So much for that. Furniture, equipment and walls shattered under her frustrated blows as Spider-Pony twisted and danced around her.

“Y’know, I’d love to but darndest thing, got an itch that has me all a’twitch! Must be something in the Doc’s carpeting. Don’t suppose I could borrow one of those oh so stylish spikes of yours?” 

Titania roared, swinging up a foreleg to try and rake him with some. Spidey countered by easily flipping over it, landing behind her. He wrapped his tail around the startled villain’s and flipped backwards over her, using their tails to take her with him and slam her into the floor. 

Titania, durable enough to come back from Asgardian roundhouses, recovered almost instantly and sprang back to all fours…or would have if her foreleg spikes hadn’t been driven into the floor. 

“Oh, you lil’—!” she hissed, tugging. The durable floor, designed like the walls to withstand pulverising water pressure, sprouted hairline cracks but stayed solid. 

“Since we’ve got a sec,” Spidey said cheerfully from his perch on the ceiling above her, “y’mind if I ask what those're for? Is it a feng shui thing?” 

His Spider-Sense flared and he just managed to dive to a worktable as a purple wave of energy, crackling with yellow lightning, scythed across the ceiling. Titania howled as she was buried under collapsing debris from the room above, unhurt but further pinned.

Spellectro winced, standing wreathed in static beside a glowing eyed Lyja, both their hooves still raised from the combined shot.  

“Though I’ve gotta give Big T her due,” Spidey quipped, “at least she’s not you two fashion disasters.” 

He gestured to Lyja, putting on his cheesiest network voice. “One’s an alien from a distant galaxy, which explains why she hasn’t heard green and purple is so done!” Then to Spellectro. “The other looks like that!” 

The duo responded by firing in sync again. 

Spidey, lenses wide, just managed to make it to the ceiling as their beam smashed through everything in its way, which had almost included him. It struck the far wall, blowing it wide open and turning the workshop surreal carnival colours from whatever was on the other side as all the shop’s lights blew out.

Spidey twisted, firing a web-line to prepare for a swing kick, but a violet beam slashed through the line and he cried out as a yellow bolt struck him right in the spider-logo, hurling him into the next room.

“Toldja we’d be AC-DC, babe!” Spellectro grinned, preening. 

“When you’re right, you’re right.” Lyja lowered her hooves. “Keep him off my back while I search the office!”

Wh—but we got ‘im on the ropes! Why?”

“Because I’m asking you too,” Lyja cooed, winking. It sprinkled purple laser sparkles. Spellectro’s pigeon chest swelled with machismo and he powered up, launching himself after Spidey in a crackling yellow bolt. 

“⌰⍜⍜⌇⟒⍀,” Lyja muttered, turning back.


***


Peter’s Spider-Sense jarred him awake. First things first, where was he? 

Sprawled in a dodgem cart. Alrighty. So where was—?

“FRY!” Spellectro yelled in manic triumph, lunging towards him, hooves blazing with voltage. 

Spider-Pony simultaneously braced his hind legs against the cart’s dash and fired twin web-lines, using them to haul it forward. Spellectro barely managed to cry out before he missed his target completely, face planting into an admissions booth. 

“Just not your day, Max,” Spidey observed, hopping out of the cart. 

Spellectro groaned, trying to get to all fours. He let out a yelp of protest as webbing slapped his tail to the floor. 

“Just making sure I remember where you parked,” Spidey simpered, vaulting the railings before the twisting Spellectro could think to electrify the floor or something. 

Max O’ Million was never the brightest bulb in the marque, no matter how often he bragged about a supposed gangster lineage, but ever since the first Stampede Six he’d pegged Doc Argo as a way to improve his repertoire beyond just hurling bolts, hoping to fulfil his pipedream of becoming pure energy. Basic as Max could be his powers were as versatile as Johnny’s, and he made sure to pick up some kind of new trick every time he goffered for Argo. 

Right now though, he was trying to gallop in a circle while technically standing still. 

Spidey took a second to check out the terrain. Whatever part of Argo’s base this had been the last time he’d been here, Arcade had decided it would make for a good actual theme park set. In addition to the dodgem ride there was a carrousel, probably what was filling the room with that piping music, a swing ride, a row of mechanical bulls and a hall of mirrors, which might feed into the maze between rooms. 

Spider-Sense! He looked up to see a slab of flooring hurtling towards him. 

He sprang forward, briefly sticking to it in order to scamper to its tip and leap off in the split seconds before it completed its journey, smashing into the mechanical bulls. The few that didn’t shatter morphed into robotic minotaurs, but simply lay there, sparking. 

Spidey looked up to see a roaring Titania charging towards him, managing to snag a razor sharp faux-horn with a tail web and swung it around just in time to deflect a swipe of her foreleg spikes. “Whoa!” 

“Whassamatter?!” Titania bellowed, forcing him to hop back with each parry, sending up sparks. “I thought ya wanted to play with my spikes!” 

“That’s it, ’Tania!” Spellectro called, still struggling. “Keep ’im busy ’til I can get outta here!”

He struggled then flared with power, inadvertently giving Spidey a reprieve as Titiania, flash blinded, covered her eyes. 

The room filled with accelerating carousal music and a burning smell. Spellectro’s magic was twisting its way through railings and slipping into mechanisms. As he clambered out of his prison, dodgem carts revving and spinning in place behind him, the carousel and swing ride began to spin faster and faster until they almost hurt to look at. 

Spider-Pony had vanished. Titania snarled, rounding on Spellectro in frustration, then froze, nonplussed. 

“What?” Spellectro asked, waving a hoof to clear an acrid scent swirling around his head. 

He turned at an intrusive, gnawing sensation behind him and screamed. His tail was on fire. 

Titania, technically fireproof but unsettled, jerked aside as the spellectrostatic villain shot past her yelping and hollering, leaving her coughing on the smoke he left in his wake as he vanished into the mirror maze. 

“Hi,” Spidey said, suddenly upside down and in her face, “hold this? Thanks.” 

Titania blinked at a strand of webbing he’d surreptitiously slipped around one of her forelegs, then followed its length as he tossed it up to snag…one of the swing ride’s seats. 

Her howl of fury was pulled up and into the ride’s arc along with her, distorting as she became a purple blur. 

“YOU LOUSY—” her warping voice called as she whipped around each loop, “—GET OUTTA HE—USE YA FOR—AWW NO—INK I’M GONNA HURL—”

“Two down…” Spidey breathed.

He casually sidestepped as a still screaming Spellectro galloped out of the maze, sticking a leg out to trip him and webbing his tail to put it out as well as pin him down. Spidey popped his neck, turning back to the holes blasted between rooms.

“One to go.”


20


Applejack looked up as Twilight and Spike materialised in the castle lobby, exchanging waves with them from the map chamber door. She indicated for them to join with her head. 

“Alright,” Twilight sighed to herself, “game face.” 

“Games?” Pinkie Pie asked, sticking her head between banister railings and sending Spike leaping into Twilight’s hooves. Twilight had nopony to leap to and so just fell on her ass. “We can play later, right now we should be making serious faces.” 

She ran a hoof down her face to show what she meant. She somehow gained a clenched lantern jaw and straighter hair. Both sprang back to normal with disquieting rubbery sounds.

“How about hide ‘n’ no seek?” Spike murmured as he pulled himself free of Twilight’s grip. 

“Where’d be the fun in that? Sounds lonely!” Pinkie hopped up onto the rail to smile reassuringly at Twilight. “Y’know Sugar Cube Corner has lotsa client confidentiality stuff for weddings and such, so whatever happens I’m there if you wanna talk…?”

“That means a lot, Pinkie,” Twilight smiled, nodding at her as she trotted into the room. And hesitated. She and AJ had talked about getting everypony together, yes, but to actually be here…and then there was whatever Dash and Rarity were doing. 

“Sorry,” Fluttershy mumbled from her seat. 

“What? Why?” Twilight asked, increasingly mystified. 

“I let everypony know about your, uh, situation and everything kind of spun out from there.”

“Ain’t your fault who does what, ’Shy,” Applejack assured. Spike admired the casual way she shouldered her Super Soaker™. 

“We’re terrible friends for caring, we get it!” Dash snapped, though it sounded clogged. That might explain the blanket and bucket, but Twilight still had to ask. 

“Why are you tied up?” 

“Applejack has certain ideas about civic responsibility,” Rarity sniffed, from congestion not hauteur. At least not yet. 

She and Rainbow were sharing a milk crate instead of their thrones, huddled together under a thick Apple Family comforter with a rather nice smiling tree pattern. And lashed together at the waste by a thick strand of reliable Apple Family rope, running around the outside of the comforter. It strangely went with the pattern, somehow. Their sullenly slumped shoulders almost gave the impression they were wilting in the warm vapour wafting up out of the bucket they had their hooves in. 

“Applejack knows you two pretty well,” the farm girl clarified. “Reckoned the best way to cool ‘em off was with some good ol’ mountain river water,” she explained at Twilight’s look. 

“I did ask for plausible deniability when you began asking for zap apple battery components,” Twilight admitted. “Are you two going to be okay?” 

“Eh, she had this hot spring water ready ‘n’ wating,” Dash snuffled begrudgingly, giving the bucket a demonstrative kick. Rarity shut her eyes and sighed contentedly as this sent a fresh plume of vapour shooting up to drift around their heads. 

“Don’t feel too sorry for ‘em, Twi, they wouldn’t be where they are if they hadn’t run around tryin’ to make decisions for ya.” 

“Yes, well we’re at a stand still now,” Rarity huffed, “so you can s-sugh-sugh—” The daintiest of sneezes. “—stop lecturing and start doing some listening of your own.”

“We’re totally having words later,” Dash agreed darkly. 

“Bring it, fly girl,” Applejack smirked. 

“Girls,” Twilight said diplomatically. 

All three made noises of assent and gave her their attention. Spike hopped up onto his own chair as Applejack leaned against hers, Pinkie and Fluttershy looking at Twilight from theirs as the Alicorn trotted into a space between the milk crate and the Cutie Map. 

“Alrighty…” Twilight inhaled, enjoying a brief tinge from the water vapour, then exhaled and focused. “The facts are these.” 

She levitated that accursed box out of her wing pocket and opened it to display its accursed ring. 

“I accidentally discovered this in Peter Trotter’s saddlebag. There are only so many intentions he could have with an engagement ring, and I’ve spent a, uh, a lot of time trying to have some kind of response to those intentions.” She looked askance at nothing. “Besides going totally Bursar…” 

“Totally what now?” Rainbow Dash and Applejack asked in sync. 

“Oh, one of the staff at my old school, poor fellow, but that’s not really…relevant.” Twilight levitated the box onto the table, sending it through the image of Manehattan. Coincidence? “I appreciate everypony’s concern but I’ve come to a decision. Whatever happens, I’m going to have to turn Peter down. This time, anyway.” 

“Oh, darling,” Rarity cooed through her blocked sinuses.

“No, it’s alright!” Twilight assured, smiling as Applejack put a hoof on her shoulder. “He’ll understand, I’m sure.” Her eyes drifted to Rainbow Dash. “So the only pony he needs a talking to from is me, can we agree on that?”

“Whatever,” Dash muttered, trying to shrug without throwing off the blanket. “But we all know it’s way too soon, yeah?”

“Dashie!” Pinkie moaned over Rarity and Applejack’s own less affectionate invocations. 

“Well it is!” 

“I don’t disagree,” Twilight said, hoping she was raising her voice enough to emphasise her point without sounding like she was mad at anypony. “But I’m going to be the one to handle it. This evening, when he gets back from helping Johnnycake. We’re going to have a little dinner and sort things out.”

“Not quite what I’d do,” Rarity said, sincerity projecting through a cold induced warbling in her voice. “But a very effective strategy, darling! Good luck. And when the big day does come Carousel Boutique is entirely at your disposal.”

“Of course,” Twilight chuckled. “I hear you have some binders I could look at, too?”

“Did I make that sound like a good thing?” Applejack asked. 

“They have indexes,” Dash agreed. Twilight’s eyes lit up like splitting atoms, reminding her who they were dealing with. 

“Anyway!” Spike declared, clapping his paws and hopping off his seat. “That dinner isn’t gonna whip itself up!”

“An’ we can take a hint,” Applejack chuckled. “C’mon, everypony.” 

“Um…” Fluttershy gestured to the used hankies that were Dash and Rarity. 

“Oh, right,” AJ realised, blinking. 

“You could always untie us,” Dash said bitterly. 

“Spike, dear, could you possibly be a lamb and fetch us some soup?” Rarity asked, rearing back with a hoof to her brow. “And my fainting couch?” 

“Hey!” Dash protested as the gesture dragged her back too.


21


Lyja smirked to herself as she scanned yet another folder, stuffing it into a saddlebag. She gripped the handle for a draw in another filing cabinet and yanked the entire thing out, sending its contents sheeting to join others on the floor. 

Arcade moaned behind her, still secured to his chair. 

“That’s private property!” he snapped, too muzzy to consider his position. Lyja casually fired a hoof-blast over her shoulder without turning around and he was promptly reminded of it. 

“Alright,” Lyja sighed to herself, securing her two saddlebags, “that oughta do…”

She kicked another cabinet hard enough to spring most of its drawers, then briefly shape shifted her shoulders into more bulky models to knock it over, covering the floor in muddled documents. Whatever she was looking for, nopony on this mudball would be able to find it right away. Assuming the supers left this place intact to search! One of them made an entire career out of being a walking, talking fire hazard. 

“My receipts!” Arcade mewled as she tipped over another cabinet for luck. 

“You would keep track,” Lyja scoffed. She reached into her saddlebag and waved a folder of her own. “Recognise this? It’s for that dumb disco you sold us!” 

“You specifically requested a social--” Arcade began. 

“I ought to make you eat it! I wanted to trap the Torch, not filet him! If I hadn’t pulled the right wires…” 

She trailed off, adjusting her ponytail as she caught herself. Arcade blinked at her. “You…sabotaged your own trap? Then what’s your problem with me?!” 

“One of many,” Lyja scoffed. 

Arcade squealed as she trotted towards him, trying to quickly roll his chair back without tipping it over, but Lyja was simply reaching for his desk lamp. 

A deft yank of its neck and another mirror maze entrance revealed itself behind a display case of Doc Argo’s trophies, its faux mahogany frame splitting into two separate sections, two glass housing full of ego boosters each, to open into the brine and plastic smelling shadows. 

“In case you’re wondering,” Lyja snarled softly, leaning in so Arcade had no choice but to stare into her quietly enraged yellow eyes, “yes, we’re aware of all the times you stiffed us or sold us less than adequate equipment.”

Arcade gulped. 

“Bet that happens a lot,” Lyja continued. “Work for tomorrow and all that. I’m letting you know that we know so you understand something.”

“Yes?” Arcade croaked.

“Leaving you to those others is the most mercy you can expect from me. After all, with the Torch and the spider around you might survive them.”

She wrenched his chin up with a hoof, eyes glowing with furious power. 

“But if you think we still have a score to settle, if you come anywhere near my people…I can get a lot closer than this. Understood?” 

Arcade made several affirmative grunts, unable to move his mouth with her hoof at his throat or look away from those eyes. 

“Look at that,” Lyja snorted, turning back towards her escape route, “finally, a pony on this dirt ball that gets the message.”

She froze mid strut as two web-lines slapped into either side of her, spinning to boggle at—

“Candygram!” Spider-Pony hollered cheerfully, perched on the headrest of Arcade’s chair. Arcade’s protests became a scream as the Web-Slinger yanked his lines taut, sending them racing towards Lyja. 

The Skull sprang aside…and was startled to feel Spidey land on her and send her tumbling out of control into a mirror. Arcade’s screams were cut off abruptly, replaced by grunts as he slapped between mirrors, missing only a ‘TILT’ sign to make his humiliation complete. 

Lyja sprang to all fours, preparing a furious eye blast, but hesitated at the sight of multiple reflected Spideys. A tempting array of targets but she didn’t want to blow her own head off. 

The Spider-Ponies blurred, raising their hooves, and a web splattered against a mirror on her right. Lyja whirled, firing in the directions she was sure it had come from and hitting…nothing. Cracks raced across the maze, further distorting everything. 

Lyja turned in careful circles, trying to cover against any possible attack. Other than a semi-conscious, chair bound and slightly revolving Arcade the maze was empty. She adjusted her saddlebag straps and stalked forward carefully. 

She froze at an echoing voice, bounced from all around her. It was humming. The Merry-go-round Broke Down. Lyja rolled her eyes, then hesitated and quickly looked up at the ceiling. 

“Oh please,” Spidey’s voice scoffed from somewhere. 

“Hide and seek now?” Lyja shot back. “Need a breather after dancing with those two clowns?” 

“Interesting turn of phrase! Not feeling so hot to trot yourself?” 

“With you?” Lyja scoffed. “I’m an agent of the Skrull Empire. I’ve matched wits with the Fantastic Family and the Shi'ar Imperial Guard. You have Spellectro.” 

“So how come you haven’t squashed me yet?”

“Like you’re even remotely important to me!” 

“Yeah, your head’s really not in this game, is it?” 

Lyja darted around a corner, eyes charging again, but found only a window onto a casino set. She could’ve sworn his voice had been coming from…

“Which makes me wonder what kind you’re really playing,” Spider-Pony said cheerfully, right behind her. 

Lyja spun, rearing to fire from her hooves and stopped as she registered he was upside down, dangling from a line. 

Spidey used that split second of confusion to box her elfin ears, making her douse her hooves as she clapped them over her ringing ears, and grab her by the collar, reeling her up with him. Lyja grunted as she was slammed against the ceiling, sagging in a quickly spun web-cage. 

“Wh—?! But you acted like that was too obvious!” 

Spidey squinted. “And you believed me?” 

Lyja snarled and it became more guttural as she shifted into a feline form, an alien wildcat large enough to snap the webbing. She swiped at Spidey on the way down, batting him off and forcing him into a flip. They both landed facing each other. 

“Running out of ideas, huh?” the Web-Slinger asked cheerfully, darting to the right as Lyja lunged for him. 

Lyja missed another attempt then simply sprang over him, bounding around a corner, but came up short as she found the maze in front of her covered in webbing. She shifted back to her true shape, something of the cat still in her snarl as she turned to face Spidey. “You’ve been busy.”

“Hey, as an interior designer I’m at least classier than Arcade, you’ve gotta gimme that! Only way out’s the one Torchie and I came in, by the way. Come up with your hooves behind your head and we maybe get you a cell with a view. Extra incentive: it won’t include Spellectro or Arcade!”

“Think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” Lyja snapped, then thrust her head forward, firing an eye-blast, not at Spider-Pony but at the mirror behind him.

Which he ducked, as she’d expected…then threw himself aside, out of it’s reflected path, which she hadn’t! Lyja hesitated, surprised, and even more so when her beam slammed back into her eyes, dazzling her. 

“Getting there,” Spidey’s voice came through the throbbing glow filling her vision, on her left. “Let’s review.” 

Lyja swung blindly, not even managing to charge her hoof, and felt a kick sweep her right hind leg out from under her. She toppled to the floor but managed to roll, trying to rub spots from her eyes. 

“For starters I know you favour your right.” 

Lyja lashed out in the direction of the taunt, rewarded with another strike from the opposite direction. The files said the Spider was fast, but—! 

“Psyche! Your left! Noticed that’s where you always scampered to avoid Argo stepping on you, which hoof you lead with, that kinda thing, so there’s a big ol’ blind spot right there. Oh, and on that note, now I know you can absorb your powers but it rattles the old noodle, huh?” 

“Shut up!” 

Lyja jumped to…her left, frell! But at least her vision was clearing. Spider-Pony had vanished again.

“I know you’re pretty proud of that eye move because you get this little sneer on your face every time you’ve fired it.” 

Lyja backed up, growling with frustration, one hoof clasping her saddlebags strap.

“And I figure it’s gotta take a lot out of you, because not only have you resorted to talking after a couple shots (I can relate, believe me), you’ve been out of breath. Hey, we do this long enough maybe I can get your recharge time down, then we’ll have some fun!” 

Lyja sprang around a corner, firing three furious blasts from her hooves, shredding the webbing covering the hall in front of her. Nothing but smoke, mirrors, and the chemical smell of burning webbing. 

“♪Now I know you’ve got a tempeeeer!♪”

Lyja galloped forward, making the mirrors around her flicker with green and purple. 

“What else, what else…? Oh! I know you’re a cat person!” 

Lyja skidded to an outraged halt. 

“Well, I mean, you Skrulls can become basically anything and you’ve turned into one twice now. But I’ve been fighting shapeshifters since high school, so that’s cheating. Only so many times a guy can almost kill you with a hammer he made out of his hooves before you figure he really likes hammers, y’know?” 

She’d juked and jived down each hallway and…wound right back where she started, that damn voice following her the entire time. Arcade swivelled in his chair to stare at her. Lyja spun to the lounge entrance but it had been webbed up. Not that she wanted to share space with that statue again anyway…

“Oh, this oughta impress: you can’t use lasers and shape shifting at the same time, can you?” 

Lyja whirled, eyes crackling. Where was he? He had to be using the ceiling, but his voice was bouncing from everywhere. 

“Thought so! And that’s just after, what, less than ten minutes? Not bad, huh?” 

“I’ll give you that,” Lyja snarled. She rounded on Arcade, powering up her hooves. “But I know all I need to know about you too!” 

Arcade screamed as she fired! And also because a web-line whistled from around a corner to tug him out of her way! 

Lyja fired in its direction and Spider-Pony let out a satisfying exclamation of pain as he was driven, smoking and crackling, into the mirror he’d been crouched on, tumbling to the floor. As he tried to roll back up, Lyja became a jaguar—no, a snake!—and charged, headbutting him down the corridor to slam into the mirror separating them from the casino room. 

When he managed to raise his groggy head, Lyja was rearing over him and filling her eyes with power for a point-blank blast out of pure spite. 

“Ssssurprissssed?” she hissed with satisfaction. 

“Lil’ bit,” Spidey admitted woozily, “but you’re not gonna do it.” 

“Sssssssurely you jesssst!” 

Spidey’s tail rose to her eye level and she froze, staring. A folder of documents was dangling from it. She swivelled her snake head to her saddlebags, morphing back to normal out of shock. He must have lifted it! But when?! 

“We…I don’t need…” she stammered. “Not all of…”

“Figured!” 

Spidey fired twin web from his hooves to tie her forelegs together, sending her tumbling to the floor, then he was dancing all around her, weaving more until she was practically facing back to front, the folder still held in his tail. 

“But I also figured you wouldn’t go to all the trouble of snagging these if they weren’t important. And hey, lookit all the time it bought me!” 

He leaned down, one lens narrowed, the other raised like an eyebrow. “Which makes me wonder what you need real estate for so badly. And I know it’s not because you need to stay in the Torch trapping business, not if you’re sabotaging yourself.” 

Lyja’s eyes went wide, too stunned at how quickly this had turned around on her to think of trying for an eye-blast yet.

“So what’re you really up t--” Spidey began, then his head whipped up. 

Almost at the exact same instant the casino mirror behind him exploded. 


22


Johnny groaned, more from queasiness than pain. 

He’d finally been unwound from Absorbing Pony’s chain, slammed and tossed through so many tacky Murderworld sets he couldn’t remember flaming off, even though he must have because he couldn’t get it together enough to flame back on…

Also, he’d landed on something lumpy and smelling faintly of baby powder?

“hEy PaRtNeR…” Peter groaned under him. 

Johnny rolled off him to deliver an affectionate put down but froze as he almost came face to face with Lyja, sprawled on the floor and hog tied with webbing. Their nonplussed expression were almost identical. 

“Wow…you actually pulled it off…” 

“Shut up!” Lyja snapped. Was she blushing? 

“What was with the lawn dart impression?” Spidey asked as they both scrambled back to all fours. He looked over his shoulder. “Oh.” 

“Yep,” Absorbing Pony smirked, casually walking towards them. His horn was glowing, something dangling just over his shoulder. Johnny’s vision was still too janky to make out what just yet. 

“Not gonna pick up your trash?” he stalled, idly kicking the wrecking ball where it sprawled just by his hoof. 

“Takin’ some out,” Absorbing Pony grinned. “You two.” 

“We got that,” Spidey agreed, sinking into a fighting crouch. 

“But I’m gonna do it in style.” Crusher held up what he was levitating. “Look what I found.” 

Johnny shook his head to clear his vision even further and partly because he couldn’t quite believe it. It was…yeah. Must be. Doc Argo’s plaque, that quote from the Shamrock Runes guy he’d been moaning about. 

Doc Argo’s real gold plaque. 

“Oh boy,” he and Spidey said in sync. 

“Yup.” 

Absorbing Pony took the plaque in his mouth by a corner and actually bit down on it, lighting up the immediate area of the mirror maze like a malevolent lava lamp as his body shimmered like liquid and hardened into solid gold. 

“Did he just—?” Spidey asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah,” Johnny muttered as they backed up and Crusher stalked towards them. “Hate it when they’re cool…” 

Absorbing Pony whooped, lowering his head and charging them, light gleaming off the tip of his now razor sharp golden horn. Spidey dived aside but Johnny hesitated mid crouch. Lyja was beside him, still in Crusher's path...

Johnny spun, bringing up his forelegs like the Thing had taught him but the dude was solid gold. His body rang as he was bowled down the corridor, almost playfully. He felt the floor shaking as Absorbing Pony galloped after him. 

Crusher cried out, coming up just short of running Johnny over: Spider-Pony had leapt onto his back and fired webs over his eyes. The Web-Slinger scrabbled to stay on as he bucked and trashed, finally forced to flip off as he rammed backwards into some mirrors. 

Crusher ripped the blindfold from his eyes, hesitating as Spidey poured on even more webbing around his hooves and shoulders. He gave the little pest an unimpressed look and practically shrugged, shredding all of it.  

“You didn’t really think that’d work, right?” he scoffed. 

Spidey shrugged, backing up. “Hey, you've got your gimmick, I got…mine.” 

They both hesitated at a sound and smell, so quiet they hadn’t noticed it at first but so sudden they couldn’t not now. The Absorbing Pony turned, then looked down at his hooves when he couldn’t. They throbbed molten orange, smoke curling up from the floor around them. 

“Right idea,” the fully ignited Horseshoe Torch smirked, “wrong medium.” 

He was hugging the floor, his forehooves pulsing in place like ocean currents. Burning like an industrial furnace, at the exact right temperature to, say, meld gold in place. 

“No fair!” Absorbing Pony bleated, trying to pull himself loose. He yelped as he almost tipped himself over but was stopped by how firmly he’d just been welded to the floor. He was forced to hunch low, dragged froward slightly by one frozen leg, like a skater trapped in mid-prat fall. 

“That’s what makes it so great,” Johnny teased, hovering above the floor now his work was done. He glanced over his shoulder at the still trapped Arcade, then peered around Crusher and Spidey to take in the prone Lyja. “That make four.” 

“Three,” Spidey corrected. 

“Nah, I took care of Argo.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, what am I, you? This is so sweet! All we need to do is mop up Titania and whatshisface and my licence is as good as--”

“SPELLECTRO!”

There was a flash of obnoxious yellow light behind them and Absorbing Pony’s wrecking ball, crackling with electricity, smashed against a mirror above them, forcing them to duck from showering shards. The two whirled to follow the ball as it raced back to its new owner: a twitchy green and yellow ball of neurosis who was having a bit of a moment. 

“Eeeeeeverypony forgets about Spellectro!” Angry power forked out of his body, raising him off the floor, the ionised ball flexing in time with the power leaking out of his eyes. “Everypony just walks all over good ol’ Spellectro!” 

“Uh, Max…” Spidey began. 

“SPELLECTRO!” 

The ball slammed down, denting the floor between them. 

“Uh oh,” Spidey murmured out the corner of his mouth. “He’s having one of his episodes.” 

“That's a thing?” Johnny asked, ducking as the ball whipped over his head. 

“Oh yeah.”

“Suggestions?” 

Spidey back flipped up onto the protesting Absorbing Pony’s shoulders as Spellectro whip cracked the ionized ball at him, ruining Argo’s floor even more. “Positive reinforcement, maybe.”

“No promises. Can probably demagnetize him with the right temperature.” 

“He’s not technically magn--”

“STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M NOT HERE!”

The heroes leapt back as Spellectro crashed the ball into the walls, ceiling and floor in an attempt to smash them and the immediate world, nodded to each other, turned, and sped off down the maze in a tactical retreat. 

“That’s my ball!” the chagrined Absorbing Pony bellowed as Spellectro raced past him, smashing everything in sight with it. 

Arcade yelped and hollered as the chase reached him, the Torch grabbing the back of his chair to push him in front of them, its shrieking castors adding just the right final touch to the tableau and this day in general. 

“Okay,” Spidey winced, ducking on Spider-Sense and avoiding having his head knocked off, “our entrance is this way, so we just have toDUCK!” 

Johnny flamed off to hit the deck faster, shoving Arcade on ahead and hopefully out of range. He felt the crushing power of that stupid, stupid ball rushing over their heads, bruising the air and tainting it with Spellectro’s ozone smell, and felt the entire world shake with thunder. 

It broke Spellectro out of his mania, making him pull up short to hover behind them as they all stared up at what he’d hit. 

It was the giant steel reinforced mirror out onto the river. Of course it was. 

As heroes and villains watched, the wrecking ball shook in the centre, cracks punching out of its epicentre. Spellectro’s lightning danced out of it and into the glass, causing different cracks as it began to hit the beleaguered stuff.  The entire structure of the mirror maze screamed in metallic agony, mirrors, entrances or not, fracturing, some even bursting. Two accusing fingers of Horseshoe Bay water stabbed out of the portal and down into the corridor, covering the floor in seconds. 

“Uh oh,” Spellectro lamented. Then screamed as a third torrent slammed into him. 

Johnny ignited and rocketed into the air seconds ahead of electrocution, Spidey almost embedded in the ceiling from his own leap. Arcade was saved by his chair, hooves elevated above liquid death. Spellectro thrashed like a beached fish, then flopped, smoking, splashing down on his back in the rapidly rising water. His mask dissolved around his twitching eyes. 

“Well that’s five,” Johnny observed. 

“I think not.” 

Both heroes spun, hooves raised to fire flames and webs as Doctor Argonaut stomped towards them, one tentacle shaking webs free of its pincers. Lyja, now free, trotted sullenly alongside him. 

“Wow,” she observed, looking up at the still cracking portal, “you two really get things done, don’t you?” 

Spidey squinted. “Thanks?” 

“She’s not complimenting us,” Johnny said. He turned to Argo. “Alright Doc, how we do? Waste time fighting until we all drown or waste time teaming up and trying not to drown?” 

“Please,” Argo scoffed, scooping up the unconscious, greyed out and maskless Spellectro, “this more than suits my purposes. If I can’t have this lair, then nopony shall. I am simply here to collect my colleagues and leaves.” 

“You’re going nowhere,” the Torch snarled at Lyja, his epidermis darkening as his flames spiked. 

“Hate to contradict, babe,” she replied coolly, “but…”

“Gotta go with the Torch, Doc,” Spidey said, hopping onto one of the remaining mirrors as Argo handed Lyja a bubble helmet and slipped another over Spellectro’s head. “Clock might be ticking but what makes you think we’ll just let you waltz outta here?”

“Well, in lieu of any innocent lives…” Argo said conversationally, the corners of his mouth curling in what might have been a smile. 

“Crushy?!” Titania’s voice yelled from behind them. 

Spidey and the Torch turned to stare at each other. 

“And just so you don’t get any foolish ideas about following us,” Argo continued, one tentacle tapping his collar to seal his own helmet and another opening a mirror entrance, “Ms. Laser Lasher?” 

The two heroes lunged for him but were hammered backwards by twin purple beams. Johnny managed to roll with the impact as the water doused his flames, struggling towards the group. Another purple flash and he stopped short as the hidden tunnel filled with rubble.

“LYJA!” he roared through a gap. He could still see her, wading after Argo. She hesitated but secured her saddlebag instead of turning around. 

Johnny slammed his clenched hooves against the rubble, too wet to melt through, which would probably just bring the entire maze down on them all even faster. 

“Lyja!” he called over the roar of more water. “Meal ticket!”

Lyja froze. 

“Back in Canterlot! That Blueblood thing! You said I was your meal ticket! What did you mean?!” 

She turned back to him, staring. 

“What did you mean?!” Johnny repeated, steam rising off his body. He wasn’t even sure if she could still hear him. Water roared behind him. If he hadn’t been standing on a pile of rubble he’d have been treading in it by now. 

“Lyja?!” 

Lyja held his gaze. Johnny felt his temper evaporating. She looked so tired…

Then she adjusted her saddlebags one last time and sank into the water flooding the tunnel. Johnny saw the fins of some kind of aquatic shape rising out of her back as she went. 

For some reason, some feeling he couldn’t hope to name, he felt like just folding up and letting the water wash over him. He looked up, blinking, as a crack sprouted above him. Then another and another and—


***


A web-line hit his back and yanked him away, just as more rubble crashed down where he’d been standing, an even deadlier hammer of water seconds behind it. 

“Yeah,” Spidey grunted, shifting Johnny onto his back and crawling up the wall and onto the ceiling, “been there. Not fun.” 

“I was this close,” Johnny said numbly. 

“Next time, man. Now let’s make sure there is a next time, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, shaking his head. He let go of Peter’s neck, flaming on as he dropped off and looking around. He couldn’t see the floor anymore, and chunks of surreal theme park debris were streaking past in the rising water. “Okay, that shaft we used is over thattaway, so what about…?” 

“Skeeter, seriously!” They turned at the Absorbing Pony’s voice. “I’d rather drown!” 

“Crushy, shut up!” Titania snapped. She was balanced on her hind legs on a chunk of floating rubble, somehow managing to stay above water despite the weight of her, her still golden husband who she was carrying upside down, and a chunk of floor still welded to his hooves that had come loose when she’d torn him free.

“You two get us outta here an’ we’ll come quietly,” she huffed as their raft bobbed beneath them. 

“Aww man,” Absorbing Pony moaned. 

“Crushy, shaddup!”  

“yes, honeybun.”

“I don’t deserve this!” Arcade yelled to the world in general as he bobbed past, still secured to his chair. Spidey snagged the back of it with a web-line, reeling the engineer in. 

“Alright, but how’re we getting everypony out?” 

“You know a certain balloon enthusiast of our acquaintance?” Johnny asked as he began to push Titania’s raft towards the shaft. 

Spidey squinted, towing Arcade. “…Pinkie Pie?”

“What’s a Pinkie Pie?” Titania asked. 

“The other balloon enthusiast,” Johnny said patiently as they entered.

“Oh, right.” Spidey looked up the shaft then at the Torch’s smirking face. “Oh! Right!” 


23


“Still don’t think you had to come along, Captain,” the Pegasus M.E.U.P. squad leader called over sirens, holding tight to her strap as their wagon took a hard turn. 

“I was in the neighbourhood,” Shining Armour called back, self consciously clutching his grocery bag tighter to his chest. 

“Hey, some force fields for whatever’s watin’ for us and half the paperwork? I ain’t complainin’.” 

Shining shared a smirk with her then looked down at the floor as he felt the wagon begin to slow and heard the siren die. Show time. 

He really had been passing through, on his way back to Peter and Johnny’s place on Yancy Street from that Gourmont place Candy liked, when he’d spotted an M.E.U.P. basketball game in a nearby court. 

That game Johnny and Rainbow Dash had been playing back in Ponyville had gotten under his skin, so he’d asked to join and had been about to sink a third basket when the call came in. Weird sightings by the docks, followed by weirder tremors underground, strange lights in some warehouse’s windows and out in the bay, which in Manehattan could only mean superheroes and therefore also anything. 

He lingered as the response team hut!-hut!-hut!-hut!-hut!-ed out of the wagon, so as to stash his groceries on a seat where they wouldn’t be damaged, and grabbed a spare helmet. Shame they couldn’t snag a spare breastplate, but he always felt the Manehattan branch’s were too showy anyway. 

“Alright, you ponies know what to do,” he called as he marched down the ramp to find them waiting for him. They began to take their formations. “Air team in yet? Alright, on cloud cover, I want us to have some fire suppressors just in case.” 

A tremor jolted the immediate area, sending officers swaying. 

“Back up!” Shining ordered as mist erupted out of every grate for the block. “We’re expanding the evac area at least another block but keep the cordon where it is! Eyes open, ponies!” 

“Captain!” called a Unicorn, pointing to the water. 

Shining followed her hoof and blinked. 

Like the leviathan bath toys of the gods, they rose, bobbing in their terrible carnival glory. The remains of merry- go-rounds, popcorn stands, rollercoaster tracks, dodgem carts, cartoon character heads… 

Shining looked down as something rattled his forelegs. He’d taken an unconscious step forward to take in the sight and was standing on a maintenance hatch. Which was spewing more steam and shaking violently. 

He sprang back, throwing up a forcefield and raising a hoof. “Hold!” he barked as the M.E.U.P. levelled various weapons.  

The hatch doors were blasted open by a fist of steam and a totem poll blur that almost bowled Shining over for its sheer impossibility. As he and the response team stared up at it water poured up out of the hatch and began to trickle around their hooves. 

Johnnycake, and of course it would be Johnnycake, gave him a smile and wink as his entourage sailed gently towards them. It consisted of a giant parachute made of webbing, which Johnny was hovering under, using his flames to fill it with hot air, held in place by Spider-Pony because this wasn’t going to be paperwork enough. 

Spidey was holding the parachute open, balanced on the back of a swivel chair containing the renegade engineer known as Arcade, balanced on the shoulders of the super-criminal Titania who was balanced on the shoulders of a miserable looking golden statue. 

Shining would be prepared to bet that was her husband and wasn’t sure how comfortable he should be that he'd managed to see some kind of logic in this situation as quickly as he had. 

The statue was welded to a chunk of flooring, which hovered inches above the waterlogged street as the entire menagerie swayed under the blazing Torch. Nopony said anything for a beat, leaving only the sound of startled gulls to fill the silence. 

“Y’know,” Spider-Pony said eventually, “if one of us was wearing a tie this’d make a heck of a New Yorker cartoon.” 


***


“I swear I’m not making any of this up,” Johnny said almost ten minutes later. 

“I know,” Shining Armour sighed looking at Horseshoe Bay, full of clown heads and soaked bouncy castles. He’d ordered a bunch of stuff for a nursery back in the Empire and he got the feeling it was going to feel depressing for a while.

The two stood in silence on a jetty, watching Pegasi trying to begin some kind of clean up operation. Shipping routes were being temporarily halted which was going down as well as could be expected, and all of this was before they could begin the arduous process of discerning how much of Murderworld’s wreckage was still dangerous. 

“You didn’t find the Skrull,” Shining said after a while. 

“Lyja,” Johnny said, watching a team of Unicorns mass-levitating a string of ghost train carts out of the water like a death metal conjuring trick. “No, but…” 

He hesitated. 

“I mean, nopony said anything about…” 

“No,” Shining said coldly, not looking at him. “You didn’t.” 

Johnny scuffed the edge of the jetty self-consciously.

“Do I want to know what the plan was?” Shining asked. “I mean, this is already going to be an all-nighter, least you could do is tell me what to leave out and risk my badge over.” 

“Hey, what? C’mon! You don’t have to do me any favours. Way you talked back in Ponyville, parliament doesn’t need any excuse to be all Derby Bugle about me.”

“About your…colleagues,” Shining corrected. 

“So pin it all on me! If it’s even that bad!” 

“If?” Shining blinked, turning to stare at him then further up the docks. 

Johnny followed his gaze. An M.E.U.P. squad was painstakingly trying to reflate a bouncy castle.

“I got you Arcade,” he said quickly, trying to turn up the charm. 

That made Shining hesitate. “Alright, keep going.”  

“You need more?” Johnny beamed. “How’s about Titania and the Absorbing Pony? Two Masters of Disaster in one day, and again, one of the most wanted magic-tech engineers in Equestria? Y’know I hate to state the obvious, but…wait.” 

He made a show of patting himself down, then sprang into the air, flaming on. “Now I’m on fire!” 

“You got witnesses?” Shining asked levelly. He gestured back towards the cluster of M.E.U.P. personnel and vehicles. “Because I do and all they saw was you, in the company of four…three super criminals and a vigilante, rising to the surface with all this toybox of broken dreams stuff. Fans or not, that’s part of what they’ll have to put in their reports.”

“So lean on the power couple,” Johnny suggested, shrugging, “they’ll play any ball game you want for a guarantee they’ll get locked up together.” 

“Even if they do tell the truth, and even if it’s flattering, that’s still not going to solve your problem.” 

“They’re gonna yank my licence?” 

“I don’t know,” Shining said simply, looking at the wreckage again. The Pegasi were trying to catch some of it in nets before it floated towards any bridges. 

“Can’t you do, I dunno, something?!” 

“I’ll do everything I can, man, but first and foremost I’ve gotta do my duty.”

“Which in this case is…?”

“Cleaning this up,” Shining sighed with a grim smile. “Then asking you to come in to answer some questions.” 

“And if I cooperate that’ll look good at the trial?” 

“Nopony said anything about a trial.” 

“Didn’t have to.” 

“I said you might have to face an enquiry.” 

“Same difference!” 

“Not necessarily. You’ve got a case, Johnny.” Shining waved a hoof at the remains of Murderworld in the bay. “It’s just that they do, too. The most they’ll be able to do is ground you for a few days until they figure out what exactly to do with you. Which might not be much.” 

Johnny squinted plasma sheathed eyes at him. “You were just talking about how this could ground every flyer in the business.” 

Shining shrugged. “They might do that, too.” 

“So I went through all of that and it might have been for nothing? I didn’t even nail Lyja!” 

“Was that why you did it?” Shining said sharply. 

They stared each other down. 

“Johnny,” Shining tried, patience grinding in his voice, “who is this woman?” 

“The absolute worst.” 

“To you. I remember back in school, you either bragged about the freaks you fight or you blew them off entirely. But you never went looking for any of them. If anything, the ponies gunning for your licence used to get by on the fact they came after you.” 

“It’s personal,” Johnny admitted, folding his forelegs and looking away. 

“Personal enough that you’ll fly fully lit in the subway, fill Horseshoe Bay with death traps, and have I mentioned that thing with the little fillies room?” 

“What you get up to in your own--” Johnny stamped down on the barb.

A beat. 

“I can leave it out of the report, man,” Shining said gently. 

“I already told you it’s personal,” Johnny huffed, glaring out at the water. “Tell them or don’t, it’s not like they don’t want to lock us all up with the Exquestrians and the Unknowns anyway.” 

“Some,” Shining admitted, “but if I was in their hooves--”

“You’d do your duty,” Johnny agreed, making eye contact now. “You’re a good pony like that. That kid’s gonna be lucky.” 

“Still angling for godfather?” Shining asked, smiling wryly. 

“Eh.” Johnny shrugged. “Given it some thought and I dunno, a jailbird? Could be a bad influence.”

“You’re not going to jail, man.” 

“I’m maybe gonna be stripped of my right to fly.” Johnny flamed off, landing with an appropriately dull thunk on the jetty. “Might as well be.” 

“Even if they did pull your licence I’d still insist on some kinda provision,” Shining explained. “You and the Fantastic Family work with us, maybe it’d just be on the job but anypony in command would be a fool not to let you in the air!” 

“Oh, sweet,” Johnny smiled bitterly, “so I don’t just get to be a dog on a leash, I get to be a flying dog on a leash.” 

“Johnny…”

“A balloon animal, basically.” 

“You are so lucky Rarity isn’t here,” said somepony above them. Both ponies spun, then looked up. Spider-Pony waved casually from where he was perched on a warehouse roof. 

“I thought you swung off,” Shining said diplomatically. 

“He sticks to things,” Johnny said with a solemn nod. “It is literally all he's good at.”  

“Hey, somepony had to see if they could track down Argo and the goon squad while you two were staring star crossed into each other’s eyes.” 

“And did you?” Shining asked. 

“No…” Spidey admitted. “But, clumsy me, I felt this, this weight, y’know, holding me down, back, even, and it was odd because Johnny wasn’t there—”

“I hold you, back?” The Torch stared in a swageriffic stupor, re-ignting from outrage. “I hold you back?! The word superhero wouldn’t even exist without me and I hold you back?!”

“—and I realised I was carrying this.” Spidey held out his tail to Shining. The insult contest died in Johnny’s throat when he saw Lyja’s folder still hanging there. 

“And this is…?” Shining asked, carefully levitating it out of the Web-Head’s sticky tail hairs.

“The last of Arcade’s archive.” Spidey waved a hoof at the wreckage. “The last dry part, anyway. Y’know, the list of properties Johnny risked his life to find, in full coordination with, say, the captain of the royal guard and the embodiment of the E.U.P. itself?” 

A beat as Shining froze halfway through reading. 

“That…might be a Mr. Fantastic worthy stretch.” He glanced between them then smiled at Johnny. “But add it to your arrests and it would earn you some serious merit badges.” 

Johnny raised a blazing eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Shining clarified, eyes on papers but waving a hoof at the bay, “you still can’t burn the kingdom down just to get back at your ex, but this would turn it from flooding the bay with debris to shutting down Murderworld.”   

“And I could keep my licence?” 

“It’d still be up for review but there’s some very interesting names on these deeds, so wear the right tie and mind your manners…” Shining trailed off, smirking.

A beat. 

“I’m too excited to flame off,” the Torch said to Spidey, “hug him for me.”

“Vigilante,” Spidey pointed out. 

“Which is why I’m gonna have to get very creative with where exactly this came from,” Shining said, waving the folder as he marched off, “assuming nopony saw you hand it to me. Besides, Johnny’s clingy and I’ve got ice cream melting in one of these wagons. One of you show up at E.U.P. Plaza tomorrow to answer some questions and we’ll consider things…yoooou’re both gonna be gone when I turn around, aren’t you?” 

He turned. The only thing to meet his gaze was another floating clown head. 

“Superheroes,” Shining muttered, trotting back towards his comfort zone. 


24


“—already, I’m going,” Peter Trotter chuckled, stepping out of Twilight’s portal. “Hey honey, I brought some…wine…”

He blinked almost in time with the portal closing beneath him in a flurry of pink and purple sparkles. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be passing through when they jumped, but he hadn’t been expecting Twilight to be waiting for him like a beguiling but nervous sphinx statue, missing a twin to frame a temple doorway. 

“Oh, hi.” 

“Hi,” she breathed. 

“Did you change your mane…?” 

“Yes! Just…seemed like it should be an option.” Twilight ran a hoof through her new ’do, probably courtesy of those spa twins. “Uh, I thought we could eat on the balcony, catch the sunset. Shouldn’t be too cold.” 

“Sounds good,” Peter agreed. He patted himself down with one hoof, then realised he couldn’t find what he was looking for because it was in his other hoof and held it up. “Uh, I brought along this Wakandian wine?” 

“You went to Wakanda?” Twilight squinted, beckoning him through into the hall. “It can’t have been that long.” 

“Oh nah, nah, uh, the FF gets a bunch every holiday,” Peter explained, following her upstairs. “Johnny’s metabolism means he’d have to mainline Dr. River’s airship fuel right out of the tank to get a buzz, so he’s fine lending us his. Only accepts it out of politeness anyway.” 

“Well, and because he lives to receive.” 

“Hah! Rainbow Dash?”

“You learn to recognise the logic, yes,” Twilight smiled, telekinetically opening a door…onto what seemed to be a laundry room. “Ugh! I should start leaving trails of breadcrumbs…” 

“You’d probably wind up with Fluttershy’s birds all over the…” Peter trailed off, sensing something. Not the Spider variety but a back of the neck feeling. 

He turned, managing to catch Spike’s eye before the dragon hastily pulled shut the door he’d been peering out from. Peter could swear he could hear the patter of scaly feet and whispering, bickering voices.

“Uh, will Spike be…?” 

“He’s got his paws full,” Twilight enunciated, voice calmly raised enough to cover most of this floor. “Rainbow Dash and Rarity came down with something, so Spike is very kindly looking after them.” 

“Cool,” Peter decided. 

“Mmm, our entrées will be if I can’t find that stupid… Ah, here we go!” 

Twilight beamed in triumph as she finally found the right antechamber door. Peter wondered, as he had many times over the past few weeks, if they should discuss the possibility that rooms in this new castle maybe…moved. Or were moved. Implying some kind of intelligence. Like the sort that governed that fancy new map. 

He looked out onto the balcony, a perfect diorama of Ponyville and most of the surrounding countryside framed by crystal arches and railings, and let it go. The table could have come from a portrait. 

It made him feel far from home the way Ponyville always did, not in a bad way. It was just hard not to doubletake at their untouched meal laid out the way it was. You’d never get that back in Manehattan. It was impossible not to think of pigeons devouring the food and flying off with the silverware. 


***


Peter pulled out Twilight’s chair for her, smiling as she telekentikally pulled out his, and poured her a glass from the bottle. 

“Thank you,” Twilight trilled then coughed as he made his own arrangements. “Uh, there was something you wanted to ask me?” 

“There was?” He blinked at her. “Oh! That. Did I mention it?” 

“Uuuuuh…” Twilight Sparkle, three-year Gifted Unicorns junior debate club winner, said, staring into infinity. 

“Eh, it can wait.” 

Twilight blinked. “It…can?”

“Well, I mean…” Peter adjusted his chair for something to do, trying not to blush. “Y’know, don’t wanna come off all…” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Twilight assured, reaching across to take his hoof, “of course you wouldn’t!” 

“Just figured it’s the sort of thing you should work up to. Y’know. If you’re gonna ask.”

“It’s a huge decision.”

“No kidding!” 

Twilight smirked. “From Spider-Pony himself? That’s a first.” 

“That Princess Twilight’s got a few zingers of her own,” he retorted. He obliviously missed the cue to gaze into each other’s eyes by inhaling some scent wafting off his plate. “Sun and moon, that smells expensive. I mean good, good! Just wasn’t, uh, expecting…” 

“Oh, well, it was going to be a bit more…low key, yes but, ah, well, I got the feeling you…that is we, we, that we had something important to discuss!” Twilight’s wings adjusted themselves nervously. “Which is why the dessert is, ah, also pretty…expensive and good.”

Peter frowned, concerned. “Are you sure about this?” 

“About what…?” Twilight asked distantly going rigid. 

“Y’know, this.” Peter gestured to the table then waved to include the castle. “I mean…you’re already…ugh, how to put it…”

“Yes,” Twilight croaked, then cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back without throwing off her new mane style. “Uh, yes, yes indeed! Put it however you wish! I’m not going anywhere!” 

“Well…” Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know I’m the last pony to talk, but since your library got...since what happened to it happened, are you sure you should splash out like this? Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he amended hastily. “But you and Spike, you’re okay for money, right? This just all looks catalogue grade and those lectures--”

“Oh, those are a while away, but no, we’re good, we’re good,” Twilight assured. “Worse comes to worse I’ll swallow my pride and hit Shining and Cadence up for a loan, but we have Rarity to thank for this evening.”

Peter looked down at the spread. Ribbons on the forks. Embossed sliver dishes. Bejewelled bottles for the ketchup and mustard. He should have known. 

“That was nice of her.” He smirked, making Twilight giggle. “Wonder what happens if I switch these forks around.”

“You fillystine!” came from one of the upper turret’s windows, followed by an “Urk!” of a 24-year-old mare being irritably yanked inside. 

“Thanks, Dash,” Peter called, not taking his eyes off the snickering Twilight. 

“You just watch yourself, homewrecker,” she called back. Shutters above them were slammed shut with a slightly undermining tinkle of crystal. 

“They worry,” Twilight said gently. 

“We have that in common,” Peter agreed. He offered her the breadbasket and took his own once she’d levitated hers. “Do they…know?” 

“Maybe,” Twilight said diplomatically, paying a lot of attention to how to butter her roll. “It’s been…a day. Lot on our minds. Do you want to talk about what you were going to tell me this afternoon after dinner, or…?” 

“Uh, that can wait a while,” Peter said a bit too quickly. “Though, uh, there was something I wanted to ask, since you, uh, asked.” 

Twilight blinked, confused at that wording. “Okay…?”

“Meant to bring it up before now. Actually.” 

“Really?” Twilight squeaked, accidentally dipping her knife into some marinara sauce instead of her butter, though to be fair that was not a bad thing to cover a roll with. 

“Just didn’t want you to feel like you were being pressured into anything, was all.” 

“That’s very considerate,” Twilight smiled. 

“Well, it’s not the sort of thing you just ask, y’know?” 

“I understand completely.” 

“That’s what makes you so great,” Peter smiled. He took a fortifying sip of wine. “…mmm! Uh, but since you seem so open—”

“Well, I might not go that far,” Twilight amended, feeling her cheeks flush. 

“—then I guess I can just come out with it and ask?”

Twilight looked into his eyes, trying to draw strength from them, blinked, and then blinked some more in surprise as the light changed. She turned with him, realising her eyes had not somehow done anything to the light. Celestia was lowering the sun, the sky fading into relaxing infernal shades of magic reaching through the atmosphere and tenderly revolving the planet. 

Soothing shadows sprouted across Ponyville like patches of grass and every facet of the castle crystal around them glistening like school children released to play. 

“Wow,” Peter observed. 

“Tell me about it,” Twilight smiled. 

“This place really is something else.” 

“And we’ll always have a place with each other here. No matter what. I need you to know that.” 

He looked at her quizzically. “Is everything alright?” 

“I think it will be,” Twilight decided. “You can ask me if you’d like, or I could…?”

“Nah, a stallion should finish what he starts,” Peter said, a bit cavalierly to her mind. At least he took her hoof. 

“Okay…” he began, then shut his eyes. “Agh, y’know, even without those three upstairs I’d still be worried everypony’s gonna think I’m gold digging.” 

“Who gives a flying feather what other ponies think?” Twilight declared. 

She felt strong enough to gallop clean through the hull of a battleship and out the other side. If he was taking it this calmly then it truly was going to be okay. 

“Ask me, Peter! Ask me!” 

“Er, okay.” Peter blinked, then beamed. “I’m sure Aunt May’ll appreciate the enthusiasm!”

“Ah,” Twilight said guiltily, ears folding. She hadn’t thought about the kindly old pony, and if Peter would have told anypony…gosh, what if that was May's ring? Agh! 

“So how about it?” 

She blinked at him. 

“I beg your pardon?!” she said, feeling a flabbergasted wormhole inside her ripping open from the sheer unbelievable, casual, gormless smile on his stupid, beautiful face.

“You…don’t seem as enthusiastic as you were a second ago…?” 

“A little, you know,” she waved a flustered hoof, “pageantry wouldn’t go amiss! Even if I am gonna say no!”  

“You are?!” 

“It’s the responsible thing to do, darling, I’m sorry!” 

“Oh, I…I see,” Peter agreed, ears drooping so hard they dragged her heart down with them. “Totally understand. Wouldn’t want to burden you, your girls do enough for Equestria.” 

“I’m not saying never!” Twilight assured. “Just, we’d need to think things through, you know?” 

“I guess the paperwork’d take a while…”

“For starters, yes.” 

“She wouldn’t get in the way, if that’s what you’re worried about?” 

A beat. 

“Who?” Twilight said, carefully and Antarctically.

“Aunt May,” Peter clarified, “obviously.” 

Another beat. 

“Obviously?” Twilight repeated, marvelling at this new, unexplored terrain. She couldn’t believe this. Snobs like Blueblood always made cracks about Earth Ponies but Great Pony in the Sky, what in the flying feather…maybe it was some kind of insane Manehattanite thing? 

“Honey, your eyes are glowing,” Peter said, smiling rigidly, backing away as their table and cutlery and even the wine in their glasses began to rise into the air, violin string humming and glowing seething magenta. “We talked about this!”

“Peter,” Twilight said, trying to stop her voice crackling with power, “what are you talking about?” 

He blinked up at her, then pointed to a patch of Ponyville houses a little up the road from the castle. 

“I was…hoping it’d be okay if we…maybe…moved Aunt May out here? Sometime? Y’know, if she’d be down with it! I’m-I’m making decent money now and everything but, y’know, heh, real estate, we’d probably have to go halfsies, but she’s always gotten on with Applejack’s grandmother so I figured--” 

He clamped his mouth shut in the face of Twilight’s popping, pure white eyes. She involuntarily cut off the magic that had been raising her and the scenery around her, dropping to the floor, Peter flinching at the sound of clanging tableware. 

“Twilight?” he squeaked eventually as the sky began to turn Luna purple. “Sweetheart?” 

“That’s what you wanted?!” 

Only the balcony railing and Peter’s wall-crawling saved him from being blown straight off and possibly all the way to the mountains by the Royal Canterlot Voice. Twilight slapped mortified hooves over her mouth and started at him. A few house lights had flicked on in town, ponies hesitating in their half-closed doorways. Strange, startled animal noises echoed up out of the Everfree. 

“I mean…that’s it?” Twilight managed. “That’s what…?” 

Peter shrugged. 

“That’s it?!” 

“I don’t know anymore,” Peter said to the universe in general. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a feather plucking minute here!” Rainbow Dash snapped, bolting out of the arch behind them. She stabbed an accusing hoof at Peter. “So what the hay was all that?!” 

“What was what?!” Peter squawked. 

“The ring, you stupid stallion!” Rarity snapped, galloping up behind Dash, a helpless Spike jogging after them, clutching a box of tissues and some blankets. “That cursed gewgaw in your saddlebag, the one that’s had your special somepony out of her considerable mind with worry all day, and got us showered in freezing cold mountain water! That’s what’s what!” 

“What?!” Peter snapped. 

“Mind like a steel trap!” Dash barked, rounding on Twilight. “I totally get what you see in him!” 

“Hey, anypony up for some soup?” Spike asked, spinning on his heel. “Canterlot, huh? Well, it’s expensive, but only the best for you guys!” 

He skidded to a halt as a purple glow surrounded the doors in front of him. 

“Nopony’s going anywhere,” Twilight declared, trembling. “We’re settling this now.”

Dash and Rarity exchanged glances, realising they probably shouldn’t be running around in their condition and that doing so had invalidated said condition as an escape option, but also that they were too mesmerised by this plotline not to see it through. 

Twilight conjured the ring box and flipped it open. 

“Alright,” she said with as much calm as she could manage. “If you weren’t going to ask me…something big tonight, then what the ever-loving hay is this for?” 

Peter almost ripped his face in half trying to stare at her, the guilty looking trio in the archway, and the infernal, sun blasted engagement ring all at once. 

“…did you go into my saddlebag?” he asked eventually, the question clearing his face. He didn’t look angry as such but not a happy camper. 

“Please answer my question first, dear,” Twilight said levelly. “What is this for?” 

“It’s Duke’s,” Peter said simply. "Duke Cage's." 

A beat. 

Rarity sneezed and flushed with embarrassment as everyone turned to her. 

“Wait,” Dash realised. “Wait, ya mean…ya mean whathisface, the yellow dude? The Power Zebra? Hoof for Hire?” 

“Yeah!” 

“What the flying feather--” Dash began. 

“It’s not for him!” Peter snapped, then shut his eyes. “I mean, me! It’s not… We are definitely not…okay, okay, everypony shut up!”

“Nopony was tal—” Dash began to snap but stifled it, nostrils and mouth shuddering. “—taw-ta-tagh-hagh-agghhh--”

Twilight quickly levitated her napkin into the Pegasus’ face. Dash sneezed gratefully. 

“How did you find it?” Peter asked, managing to keep some kind of composure. 

“There was a, uh, a little slip up,” Spike winced. “I knocked your bag over and it just fell out. Sorry, man.”

“It’s nopony’s fault, Spike,” Twilight soothed. She levitated the box onto the table and walked up to Peter, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “So it’s not for me, glad we cleared that up. I’m sorry, dear, but you can understand why finding something like that in your saddlebag…?”

“There’s…only so many conclusions to come to,” Peter agreed, nodding and sighing. 

He glanced between Dash and Rarity, coming to his own conclusions and utterly devoid of sympathy for either of them, then his gaze settled on Spike and softened. 

“Okay.” He took a breath then knocked back half his wine glass. He thumped his chest to help it down. “Oooookay. First, no, that ring is not for me. It’s not for anypony on this balcony. Second, it’s for Duke Cage. It’s his ring. I’m just holding it for him.” 

“So who is it for?” Rarity asked, instinctively seizing some ripe gossip. “I say! Not…not that fellow, you know the one, with the chest tattoo?!” 

“Wait, what?!” Dash burst out. “Y’mean Mr. Hi-yagh ?!” she mimed judo chops, a little more comedically professional because she could actually do them. “Mr. Unto A Thing of Iron?!” 

“No,” Peter said, fighting down a laugh. “Uh, you guys ever meet Jasmine Jewels?” 

“Oh, the detective with the…colourful vocabulary?” Rarity realised. 

“That’s our Jazz,” Peter said carefully. 

“Awww!” Rarity cooed, clasping her hoof to her chest. 

“So wait,” Dash snapped, “why’re you cartin’ it around?” 

“Because,” Peter sighed patiently, “she'd see through Dandy, that is, Iron Hoof and Matt…uh…”

“Who is not Deerdevil,” Rarity deadpanned, rolling her eyes. 

“Rarity,” Twilight admonished gently. 

“Yeah,” Peter resumed, “them, or the Daughters of the Dragon, or anypony in their mutual circle that Cage hangs out with all the time. He wants to surprise Jazz and what was I gonna do, say no?” 

Twilight blinked. “They must trust you a lot.” 

“Well, I’ve teamed up with practically everypony in the city, soooo…” Peter shrugged.  

A beat, so long and quiet they could all hear night time Ponyville happening behind them, the sounds of shuttering businesses and tavern music, even the chugging of the late evening train pulling in. 

“Cool?” Spike tried eventually. 

“Oh thank sun and moon,” Twilight breathed, sagging against the railing. Peter gripped her shoulders to steady her as they began to shake hysterically. “Ahaha! No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay, just…whoo!” 

“So…” Rarity ventured because somepony had to make certain, “this pony would know if her special some…zebra…was about to propose if she thought any of their friends were acting—”

“Like crazy ponies?” Peter suggested acidly, hugging a giggling Twilight. Dash sneezed before she could call him something rude in retaliation. 

“—aheh, yes,” Rarity continued neutrally, “so to make sure she doesn’t suspect anything, Mr. Cage entrusted his ring to you because you’re, uh, a ubiquitous figure in your community and it would never occur to Ms. Jewels you’d be carrying such a secret on her behalf. That’s what’s happening?”

“Pretty much,” Peter agreed, nodding. 

“Wow,” Dash decided. “So, wait, this dude hasn’t told anypony he’s gonna pop the question?”

“Not yet,” Peter clarified, stroking Twilight’s mane. “He’s…that’s it, honey, let it aaaall out, he’s told Iron Hoof but he can be a bit…”

“Fortune cookie,” Dash supplied. 

“Totally. So even if he did say anything Jazz would have no reason to think he wasn’t being anymore…that than usual.” 

“It all sounds so simple, put like that,” Rarity said distantly. She sneezed again. “Um. We—mostly Rainbow Dash—may owe you an apology for assuming certain things.”

“Hey, you’re the one with the swan costume, crazy filly.” 

“The what?” Peter squinted. Twilight laughed even harder.  

“We’ll give you guys a minute!” Spike decreed, taking both Dash and Rarity by the tails and getting the hay out of there. Both were so surprised he was actually doing it they trotted backwards after him. 

“Thanks,” Peter smiled wryly as they vanished into the hall, which was lighting itself slightly. They really were gonna have to examine how this place worked sometime. 

Twilight sighed with exhaustion, laying her head on his shoulder. He stroked her mane, sinking them both down to sit against the railing while she got her breath back.


***


Eventually he snagged her glass of wine with a web-line and proffered it to her. “You’re gonna wanna hydrate.” 

“Good idea,” Twilight agreed, taking it in her hoof as her horn glowed, altering its molecular structure into a healthier water option. 

“New spin on an old trick?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised. 

Twilight made a muffled, non-committal noise as she took a sip. Her horn flickered again, igniting the dimmed candles on the table, though Luna’s moon was giving them plenty of light to see by. 

“It should probably still be good even if it’s a bit cold,” she said, getting to her hooves. “We can reheat it if you’d like? I just think we should--”

“Food’d help, yeah,” Peter smiled, taking his seat. “Mind if we talk with our mouths full? But we should talk.”

“Establish some things,” Twilight agreed. She enjoyed a mouthful of Istallion cuisine and dabbed at her lips with a napkin, feeling more like a person. A person capable of having important conversations. “Alright! First things first. I’m sorry for inadvertently snooping in your saddlebag and putting you through this.” 

“’Ey,” Peter began, showering his plate with debris. 

“Swallow, dear.” 

He did so. “Sorry. Yeah, no, it’s on me. I should’ve given you a heads up.”

“You live a busy life,” Twilight assured, winding some pasta around her fork for later. “I’m glad Mr. Cage feels he can trust you with something so important! And of course I’ll help with May, we’d be delighted to have her down here! She and Granny Smith can trade war stories, it’ll be great!” 

“You’re sure you’re bank account will be okay?” Peter asked. 

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I can hold off until we cash those lecture fees if you want, but yes. Have you talked to May about this move?” 

“She’s made it clear she wants to focus on F.E.A.S.T. but I think it’d be a good weekend home, something like that. Fresh air, and she could visit you guys whenever, and I know you’d keep her safe.”

“Absolutely. I promise.” 

They shared smiles. 

“Okay,” Peter sighed eventually. “Elephant in the room…”

“Little bit,” Twilight agreed. She took a sip of wine this time. “I…think I told you I wasn’t saying never. When I thought…you know.” 

Peter nodded. 

“And I meant it! I love you, I know you love me, but…”

“We’re not there yet,” Peter supplied. 

“Not yet,” Twilight emphasised gently. 

“Twilight, I promise you I’d never put you under that kind of pressure.” Peter took her hoof. “Not just out of the blue like that. And Celestia knows I’d wanna get my act together before even thinking about it!” 

“I like your act just the way it is now,” Twilight said, carefully emphasising. “Nopony at this table is beating themselves up tonight.” 

“Yes dear.” 

“I’m glad we agree, though. And I’m not saying never.” 

“Good to know,” Peter smiled. 

They shared a kiss, accidentally getting sauce on each other’s muzzles. 

“Now that that’s settled,” Twilight snickered, wiping hers away, “what was it you really wanted to talk about?” 

“Huh?” Peter blinked, halfway through a bite. 

“This afternoon,” Twilight elaborated, her tone making it clear that, proportionate agility or no, he wasn’t dodging this. “Something was bothering you. You promised we’d talk about if when you got in this evening.” 

“Oh. That.” 

Peter sighed. 

And told her. 

Twilight nodded along, carefully processing what he was telling her. It wasn’t hard, he was pretty upfront about what was going to be hanging over him for probably the duration. 

“Oh Peter,” she said gently, getting up to hug him. 

“It’ll be okay,” he sighed. “Listen, if you wanna talk about it with Spik and the others, that’s okay.” 

“I’ll let you know if I do. If you don’t want me to, that’s fine as well.”

“It’s okay. Just…” He looked out at the lights of Ponyville then right at her. “Please don’t tell Johnny, okay?” 

Twilight held his gaze, though she was surprised. 

“Okay,” she said. “If that’s what you want.” 

She was the Princess of Friendship. Chosen by the Tree of Harmony, tested and proved against ancient forces of Chaos and Darkness and Hunger, she even had a fancy addition to her degree from Celestia to hang in her new office and replace the one Tirek had incinerated.

But one of the things she’d learned about friendship and destiny was that it could be like a river. You had to let it take its own course. And you couldn’t necessarily change the direction of those intertwined things even if you wanted to…


25


“Hold it,” Johnnycake Storm commanded earlier that evening. 

“Whaaaaaat?” Spider-Pony moaned, pulling off his boots. 

“Firstly, if you’re not gonna shower at least use this,” Johnny said, tossing him an imported deodorant can. “No stinking up your Princess’ castle on my watch!”

“Did you get switched out with a Murderworld LMD?” Peter asked, half out of the costume. “You’re almost being nice. It’s terrifying.” 

“I can totally ignore the fact you did a halfway decent job if you’d like,” Johnny cooed sweetly, digging through the fridge. 

“Yeah, about that…” 

Peter kicked the last of his costume into the overflowing hamper that was the mark of their proud bachelorhood, one eye on his brother in in-fighting as he tried to negotiate the top off the deodorant. 

“There’ll be another time, man,” Johnny said without turning around. 

“Uh huh.” 

Johnny turned around. “Don’t you ‘uh huh’ me, young stallion!”

“Fine,” Peter decided. He finally popped the top loose, taking the grip in his mouth and spraying a translucent cloud to step into. He sniffed as he put the can on the side table. “I don’t smell anything.” 

“That’s the idea.” 

“I mean I don’t smell like anything.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.” 

“What else are you looking for and if I run away to live with the Diamond Dogs will it still be able to find me?”   

“Good taste? Couldn’t find you with all the enchanted compasses in the world, bud.” Johnny emerged from the fridge gently cradling an elegant bottle, so sky magenta it was almost a plumy sort of black. “Luckily you’ve got the next best thing: me.” 

“What’s this now?” Peter held out a hoof, then adopted a deadpan expression as Johnny produced a rag from his utility collar and began to buff it. Once the bottle was in his spotless grasp he could scrutinize the label. “I, ah, can’t read this.”

“Yeah, we’ve established ya basic,” Johnny breezed, flopping down on the couch to flip through a kart racing magazine. “That, my dear plebeian, is a bottle of the best from the vineyard of the Wakandian royal family itself. So straighten that mane up when you stare at your stupefied reflection in it.” 

“Wow, for real?” Peter blinked. “And you’re giving this to me?” 

“I’m giving it to Twilight,” Johnny clarified without looking up from an article. “I mean, I didn’t just hold up her dinner date by a couple minutes, I’m actually letting it show up. Least I can do for the poor filly.” 

“Thanks, I was only half joking about that LMD thing.” 

“De nada.” 

Peter scrutinised the perfect ears and tuft of mane poking over the top of Kart Before. 

“Y’know she’d be willing to help out with your licence, right?” 

“Y’know her bother’s already putting his tail on the line for me, right?”

“That’s another thing, have you told Sue about any of this?” 

“I just got out of Murderworld, Pete.” 

“Yeah, but you survived the experience and you’ve got a fighting chance now.”

“So you don’t need to hang around and make me feel better, glad we cleared that up, have fun, roomie.” 

“So you’re totally fine?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to fold his forelegs. The bottle was making it more elaborate than it had to be. 

“Pete,” Johnny said, half incredulously lowering the magazine and waving a demonstrative hoof at his face, “I work this profile everyday in restrooms and salons all across this great nation so that it can be seen from space. Entire industries are supported by my being the definition of fine.” 

“Fun fact, Argo’s place? I almost drowned in there.” 

Johnny stared at his roommate. 

“What am I supposed to say to that?” 

“You’re supposed to listen! Back when I was first starting out I had to…it was a whole thing. I got pinned under this insane amount of rubble. If May hadn’t been counting on me I’d still be under there. And today I saw you get nearly crushed in almost the exact same way because you were too busy calling your ex’s name to hear the sky falling on your head.”

“I don’t wanna think about her tonight, Pete, okay? I almost lost my licence and lot more over her, is one night so much?” 

They regarded each other in weary silence. 

“Yeah, fine,” Peter allowed. “But talk to Sue or somepony, okay?” 

“Shining’s report’ll be in her in-tray by now,” Johnny sighed with a sardonic smirk, “he’s efficient like that. So I’ll probably be hearing from her soon enough. In a way you’ll be able to hear out in the sticks, so get rolling already wouldja?”

“Fine,” Peter mocked sniffed, strutting melodramatically to the middle of the living room, “but I’m keeping this if you’re keeping the jewellery!” 

“Like you could afford my jewellery,” Johnny shot back as Peter glowed, slicing open the portal in time, space and their hardwood floor. 

There was knock at the door. 

Peter froze, hoof halfway into the swirling pink and purple radiance. 

“We need to get a buzzer,” Johnny muttered, springing off the couch and preening. 

“Wait,” Peter said quickly, still frozen as Johnny trotted across the room. 

“Why?” Johnny asked, half turning, one hoof on the handle, and swung it wide before Peter could answer. “He…llo.” 

A Dutch white mare with a rainbow mane blinked at him on their mat. She peered around him to meet a stupefied Peter’s gaze. 

“Yeah, hi,” Jonny breezed, causally leaning against the doorframe and putting on his third most charming crowd control act, “yes, I’m that Johnny Storm, that’s my roommate, and that’s a portal in the fabric of spacetime. We won’t tell the residents’ association if you won’t. What can we do for you, Ms…?” 

“Uh…” She brushed a non-existent messy strand of her mane. “Right, yeah, hello! Your name is Arura Sheen and I saved you!”

A beat. 

Arura squeezed her eyes shut. “Agh, I mean--”

“I think I gotcha,” Johnny chuckled reassuringly. He couldn’t stop looking at her mane, then realised it wasn’t entirely a Rainbow Dash thing as his brain finally processed her colour scheme. “Oh! Yeah! I remember! Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Aurora assured, fidgeting with the bag he hadn’t realised she was carrying. “It’s just that, well, you saved me from that crazy mare or whatever she was? And I read in Under the Sun you lived out this way, and it’s on my way home from work so I figured…uh…”  

She nudged the bag towards him with her nose. 

“Thank you very much,” Johnny said automatically, bending down to inspect it. He blinked as Peter leaned over his shoulder. “Ice cream?”

“Yeah!” Arura flicked a foreleg in a stilted attempt at a casual gesture. “Y’know, ’cause you threw some at her?” 

“You threw ice cream at somepony?” Peter asked. He held out his free hoof to Arura. “Hi, Peter Trotter, I’ve gotta apologize, he was raised by a renegade pack of circus clowns.”

“And yet I’m still a better dresser than you,” Johnny smiled, flicking his tail sharply and forcing Peter to back up. “Thanks, really! How much?” 

“On the house,” Arura assured. 

“Your dairy won’t mind? I can hoof out a check, vouchers, actual coins, no problem. And you guys can keep the change!” 

“That’s very kind but I make these, actually,” Aurora beamed, then looked aside admonishing herself. “Ah, no, my family makes them. We make our own…everything. It was just my turn on sample duty today.” 

“And I’m sure you would have done it in style if I hadn’t butted in,” Johnny smiled. “I can pay for those samples, if--”

“You already did! More than they were worth, honestly! Did, ah, did you get her? The crazy lady? Was there a reason she had my hair?”

“Reason and Johnny don’t really go together,” Peter supplied from the living room. 

“Don’t mind him,” Johnny beamed stiffly, “he was just about to throw himself down a hole.”

“About that…” Aurora ventured, portal light dancing on her face.

“Visiting my girlfriend,” Peter smiled, holding up the Wakandian wine. 

“Your girlfriend is a hole? Or your girlfriend’s in the hole?” Aurora shook her head. “Gosh, I’m sorry, none of my business, it’s just…well, it’s not everyday you get saved by a superpony!”

“Yeah, sometimes you have to settle for Johnny. We’re sending a petition to city hall, they can’t keep ignoring constitutional violations like this.” Peter held up the wine in lieu of a sabre to rattle. “Take heart! As the old saying goes, the people united can never be ignited!” 

“Hey roomie, want some rocky road?”

“Uh, sure, why not.”

Johnny made a show of checking the bag. “Mmm, sorry, fresh out. How’s about a nice cup of lamptothehead?”

“…is that YakYakistanian?” 

“Local, actually,” Johnny smirked, picking up a lamp off the table. Aurora cracked up, mortified. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter smirked back, rolling his eyes. “Nice to meet you Aurora. Careful, he’s a crier.” Johnny yanked the power cord out of the socket. “Alright already, I’m going.” 

“He came with the place,” Johnny sighed, turning back to their guest as pink and purple glow faded. “Anyway! Thanks a lot, these look fantastic and I would know.” 

“I’m sure you get gifts all the time,” Aurora chuckled, waving an abashed hoof. “And much better than--”

“Well it’s not nearly as delicious, so you score a lot of points for originality. You sure you won’t take cash?” 

“I’d feel bad,” she smiled, shrugging. 

“And so would I if I just took these so hey, it’s Manehattan, how about we agree I do you a favour sometime?” Johnny let some sincerity mix with the charm in his smile. “Seriously, today’s been a day. This is a nicer surprise than you could know.” 

“In that case…” 

She bit her lip, a signal Johnny couldn’t not recognise if he’d take a barrel of radioactive waste to the eyes in a basement in the middle of a hundred years of eternal night. 

“It’s my day off tomorrow,” Aurora ventured. 

“What a coincidence,” Johnny smiled, “mine too.” 

It wasn’t, but he could annoy Sue and Reed into scrubbing him from any missions in his sleep. 

“Would you wanna maybe go do something? I usually just go jogging in the park but we could take in a show or something?”

“If you wouldn’t mind me flying off halfway through if something happens? I’d come right back!” 

“I’d like that a lot.” 

“And where might I be lucky enough to pick you up?” 

“Uh, got a—?” She blinked as he produced a pad and paper from his collar. 

“Autographs,” Johnny said simply. He looked over the address she wrote down and smiled. “Awesome. Can I just say, I love your mane? I know a slightly less crazy lady who has one just like it.”

“Oh?” Aurora looked guarded all of a sudden. 

“We went to school together,” he explained causally, “she hates my guts. Maybe she can tell you about it sometime.” 

“Sometime,” she smiled, relaxing. And implying she’d be down with the possibility of there being a sometime. 

“It’s a date,” Johnny smiled. “Walk you downstairs?” 

“It’s alright, you’ll wanna get that in the fridge,” Aurora assured, though she was hovering. “Thanks again, I don’t usually do things this way, but…well, you saved me.”  

And then she hugged him. He smiled, patting her back. 

“My pleasure,” he assured. “See you tomorrow?” 

“Count on it.”

Johnny watched her descend the stairs, turning to smile back at him before they took her out of sight. 

“Aurora Sheen,” Johnny said quietly to himself, shutting the apartment door and regarding the note she’d given him. 

It smelled faintly of Aurora’s mane and tail.

It smelled of peppermint. 


To be Continued

> Two Flare (1)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


1


“♫Money, money, money, money…♫” Rainbow Dash murmured along with the tinny classic on a radio in the courtyard below. She scrutinized a cluster of clouds she’d been working on, then hip checked one to let in more sunlight.  “♫Mo-neigh!♫”

“That the best choice to be singin’ ’round a shelter?” Applejack asked, emerging from a hedge she’d been pruning. 

“Hey, trip to Griffon Stone does things to a gal.” Dash shrugged nonchalantly and wafted down to admire their handywork. “♫Makes ponies wanna do things, do things, do bad things…♫”

“♫With it!♫” AJ smiled, rolling her eyes. 

“There ya go.” Dash nodded to herself, satisfied with how this repurposed gym was gradually transforming into the Upper East Side’s latest F.E.A.S.T. shelter. “Rain for their garden and showers, sparkling windows and clean gutters…man, I’m good.” 

“Wow Pete,” a voice said over the rattle of a cart, “you weren’t kidding.” 

Dash spun to glare and hesitated. Peter Trotter was pulling in a cart loaded with fresh supplies, doing most of the work in spite of genuine help from a lanky goat wearing shades and a beret. 

“Rainbow Dash has to be experienced to be believed,” Trotter grunted, mostly for show given he could have easily picked up and hurled the cart almost half a block. 

“An’ what am I, chopped lettuce?” Applejack mock demanded. She strode over to start unloading and shake the stranger’s hoof. “Howdy! Name’s Applejack. You’d be Hardy, right?”

“Friends call me Harry,” the goat agreed, smiling. He took Dash’s offered hoof and while there was definite weight and enthusiasm there, she felt like she had to be careful not to accidentally shake his leg out of its socket. 

“As in Harry Osthorn?” she asked. “As in—?”

“As in that Osthorn, yeah.” Harry’s smile became wider and more tired, like watching a fissure as an earthquake gave up halfway through. 

His beret made a sudden kind of sense, probably to hide his family’s infamous red-brown hair. His coat was a creamy colour Dash couldn’t quite place, which was weird because, while no Rarity, she was usually good with colours. She also wasn’t sure if there was a smattering of beige in there and whether that was natural or just, like, a vibe the guy was giving off. 

She could make out a cute set of freckles just under Harry’s shades, along with his pleasant but tired looking eyes. Something was nagging her about those too, and it suddenly dawned on her that his shades might not just be for light sensitivity or style points. (Though the dude pulled it off through lack of pretension.) 

It wasn’t Harry’s freckles that looked off, it was how they stood out against his coat…or rather against a slight, mustardy discolouration just under his eyes. 

She’d heard a few rumours and Trotter and his pals always told the Elements to tread lightly because of them, but what exactly had this toast rack of a goat gone through? 

Other than being the Goat Goblin’s son. 

She felt AJ glaring at her and noticed Peter’s quietly pleading look. 

“Uh…nice hat,” she settled. 

“Yeah!” AJ agreed with dorky haberdasher appreciation. 

“Thanks,” Harry smiled. “Present from MJ. Wow, garden looks straight out of a brochure!” 

“I need to be experienced to be believed,” Dash smirked. AJ nudged her sharply. “But I like to give back to the lil’ ponies, make ‘em feel useful.” AJ nudged her even more sharply. 

“Speakin’ of useful, you fellas need any help?” 

“If you’re offering,” Harry agreed, picking up a box. 

“I can get those,” Peter said quickly. 

“I got it, man,” Harry assured, not harshly but definitely. 

The Elements exchanged glances and then got busy. 



***


“Seriously, thanks,” Harry told them as they all headed inside with their cargo. “A garden’s gonna make a huge difference, especially with the right conditions to grow our own food.” 

“Looks like you’ll have enough bakin’ to tide ya over in the meantime,” Applejack observed. She looked around the shelter’s remodelled lobby, volunteers wandering in and out of the facilities. “Stroke o’ luck, Mr. Leaf pickin’ this place up! Looks like it’ll have most everythin’ ya’ll need.”

“Yeah, the fight didn’t wreck it too badly,” Peter said. He flinched, realising they’d been passing some ponies repairing a wall. “Uh, or so I heard. Read. In The Bugle.”

AJ blinked. “Fight?” 

“Spider-Pony,” Harry said simply, shrugging carefully so as not to dislodge the box on his back. 

“And the Inner Demons,” Peter added. 

“Them too.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash exchanged glances again. 

Both had been more than happy to join Twilight on this little jaunt. The Cutie Map had struck conflicting chords with both their professional egos, eliciting some initial resentment at the Tree of Harmony (if that was even what was in charge of the Map) simply summoning them, but they were also a pair of Equestria forged adventures with, y’know, egos. 

Now being on destiny’s speed dial had considerable appeal and keeping themselves busy stopped them hanging around Castle Friendship waiting for their hips to light up, like the mystical equivalent of bumbing around in your slippers. 

On the other hoof, good old Harry blatantly didn’t know his best friend’s greatest secret and AJ didn’t appreciate being dropped into a lie of omission any more than Dash appreciated having to exercise extra tact. 

At least Ponyville-Awkward was familiar and not as eye roll inducing as Spider-Awkward. 


***


“Boys!” May Reilly said happily as they set the supplies down by her workstation, a remodelled juice bar that would act as a kitchen. She gave them both maternal hugs. “Oh, and girls. Is this everything?”

“Most of it,” Peter agreed. 

“Extra hooves,” Harry smiled. 

“Yes, we really must thank your girls for swinging by today,” May beamed. 

“Our pleasure, ma’am,” Applejack said with a tip of her hat. 

“Just May, Applejack, I’ve told you there’s no need for formalities. Is something funny, Rainbow Dash?”

“No, ma’am,” the Pegasus squeaked hastily. 

“Need any help bringing everything in?” Fluttershy asked, emerging from under a counter she’d been cleaning. “I could get some snails to help with the garden, it wouldn’t be any…trouble.” 

She’d locked eyes with Harry. May smiled. Dash rolled her own eyes at Peter’s total obliviousness. 

“Got some blankets to take upstairs,” Harry said, equally oblivious. “If that’d be okay?” 

“Hello,” Fluttershy said, too caught off guard to hide behind her fringe. That got Peter’s attention. 

“Oh, right, where’re those Manehattan manners?” Harry held out his hoof. “Harry. Nice to meet you.” 

“Same here,” Fluttershy smiled, trying to take it without touching him in case she quivered too much. “Oh! You must be Peter’s friend?” 

“Wouldn’t have gotten through ESU without each other,” Peter smirked, putting a foreleg around Harry’s neck in a gesture more bro than brotherly. Dash’s eyes narrowed at this lukewarm attempt at match making. 

“It’s just—Well, it’s none of my business, um, but, ah, I heard…”

“Harry will be staying at the shelter, yes,” Aunt May mercifully supplied. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, trying to smile assuringly. He’d have rubbed the back of his neck but Fluttershy was still holding his hoof. “Mr. Leaf promoted me to management a while ago, and, hey, Manehattan property prices, y’know?”

“Not really,” Fluttershy said, blushing at this ignorance and the prolonged contact she now had the sense to break.

“Hold up,” Dash cut in, “aren’t you loaded?” 

“Dash!” Applejack hissed. 

“My dad is,” Harry said simply before Peter or May could say anything. “Well. Was. Got enough to get by, but I like to feel useful, so…”

“And you’d be welcome, regardless,” declared a soothing voice. 

The group turned to see Twilight Sparkle trotting into the room, alongside an Eastern Pegasus in a crisp black business suit: Mr. Maple Leaf, founder of the Food,-Emergency-Aid,-Shelter-and Training charity.  

“Everypony has a place here,” he continued. “Why, if not for your connections to the Trotter family we might not’ve been lucky enough to make contact with Princess Twilight! And her friends, of course! We’re big admires of your work.”

“The feelings mutual, Mr. Leaf,” Twilight beamed. “And, once Princess Celestia’s cleared it with the city council, we’ll be more than happy to help in Canterlot’s own F.E.A.S.T.” 

“For real,” Dash agreed. “You folks do awesome work yourselves. I mean, not literally saving all of Equestria but it’s almost the same thing, if ya think about it.” 

Aunt May smiled to herself as the other three Elements tried not to wither away from embarrassment, or in Applejack’s case burst with What-In-The-Hay-Am-I-Gonna-Do-With-You umbrage. 

“Quite the compliment,” Mr. Leaf chuckled, unphased, and flapped up to the hovering mare’s level to offer a hoof shake. 

Dash looked at the businessman’s perfectly manicured hoof as if one of the Everfree horrors had knocked on her door and introduced itself with a nice bottle of wine instead of trying to pop her head off like a champagne cork. The other Elements now looked equally uncomfortable, which surprised Harry and the Trotters. Mr. Leaf was pleasantly oblivious to all of it. 

“…no prob, m’man!” Dash decided hurriedly, dude-slapping the older Pegasus’ pad so fast the air rippled, achieving an absolute bare minimum of contact. “Blankets upstairs y’said, Harry?”

“Yeah…” the goat agreed, blinking as a rainbow contrail blurred out the door before he’d finished speaking. 

Twilight quickly levitated some cleaning supplies off May’s workstation, conveniently filling Applejack and Fluttershy’s hooves while she hastily covered one of her own with a rag. “Rainbow Dash likes to work fast,” she told Mr. Leaf, smiling a little too broadly. “And knows you’re a busy pony.” 

“One who’s got to be on the move myself,” Mr. Leaf agreed, shaking the princess’ covered hoof, again seeming not to notice a need to avoid actual contact. “My apologies. Thank you so much for looking over our books and that list of ponies in Canterlot.”

“They’ll be delighted to help, I’m sure,” Twilight smiled, more genuinely. 

“Is everything alright, Maple?” Aunt May asked. 

“Oh, just business,” Mr. Leaf assured, though his wings seemed to droop with uncharacteristic regret. “A firm I’d merged with was attacked last week. It’s taken this long to schedule a meeting.” 

“Oh dear, they’re not thinking of breaking it off?” May asked, at almost the same instant Peter asked, “Anypony hurt?”

“No, I’m sure we can come to some agreement, and mercifully no, thanks to Spider-Pony. Luckily, he was on the scene.”

“Luckily,” Harry echoed coldly. Twilight tried to keep her face neutral as she noticed Peter’s ears almost imperceptibly droop.  

Mr. Leaf retrieved a watch from his suit pocket. “Ah, sorry to run out on everypony, but I’ve some personal errands to run before that meeting.” 

“Need a hoof?” May and Peter asked in sync. 

“Oh, it’ll be fine, fine!” Mr. Leaf assured, flapping towards a corridor. “Everypony’s doing more than enough. Besides, I understand you’ve some errands of your own, Peter, so if you wanted to take off early…”

“My roommate’s handling it,” Peter smirked, leaving just enough of a beat to lend gravitas to his eventual, “for better and worse.” 

“I shan’t pry,” Mr. Leaf chuckled. He said a general goodbye to the group and left, leaving them to start organising supplies. 


***


Eventually a moving pile of more supplies floated in from the hall. “He gone?” Rainbow Dash asked, poking her head around her makeshift shield. 

“Yeah,” Applejack sighed. 

“You girls don’t like Mr. Maple Leaf?” Aunt May asked, surprised. 

“Oh, he’s fine!” Twilight hastily assured from where she was helping Peter and Harry stock shelves. “In fact, he’s inspiring. It’s just…well…uh…”

“His hooves are weird,” Dash supplied.

“Daniella Sacharissa Rainbow!” Applejack snapped, outraged. 

“What?! They are!” 

“That’s as may be, but ya don’t say things like that!” 

“Weird how?” Peter asked, squinting. Harry and May looked between each Element as the two tomboys glared at each other and Twilight and Fluttershy tried to find some cupboards or sacks big enough to hide in. 

“Yeah, AJ,” Dash simpered venomously, “weird how?” 

Applejack froze up as all eyes fell on her, creating too much of a spotlight for her to exact her own vengeance, then gave up on even struggling to find a polite way to put it and gave them a full country gal performance. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Leaf’s a saint, but pluck one of his own feathers an’ knock me over with it if his hooves ain’t so cold they’d freeze Moorella’s own milk!” 

Twilight winced as Peter turned to her with no idea how to respond to that. May and Harry looked equally flummoxed. She supposed she should be grateful they were all native Manehattanite’s and the exact nature of AJ’s analogy hadn’t sunk in yet.

“And kinda staticy!” Dash agreed, nodding vehemently, one-ups-mareship forgotten. “Y’know, like when there’s a storm comin’ but its way out and the back of your neck just gets all…? No?”

“Might be a Pegasus thing,” Fluttershy suggested. 

“It’s not unpleasant,” Twilight assured. “It can happen sometimes with creatures from different magical backgrounds. Sometimes your bio-thalamic fields just…” She shrugged, uncertain what exactly she was trying to articulate. 

“I don’t believe I’ve felt anything like that,” Aunt May said carefully, trying to be fair to them. 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “hay sometimes after a hoofshake things feel…perkier! Then again, like you said, he is kind of inspiring.” 

“No doubt,” Dash agreed. “But his hooves are weird.” 

Twilight gave Peter a questioning expression while May and Harry weren’t looking at them, the sort she’d given him across team ups as they learned to rely on each other, particularly Peter’s Spider-Sense. Peter searched his memory for any odd vibes from the philanthropist and gave her a quick headshake. 

“Well, weird or not those hooves helped build these shelters and people need them,” Harry decided diplomatically. “And that garden’s not gonna set itself up. Did you say something about snails, Ms...?”

“Fluttershy,” the Pegasus managed, then cleared her throat. “Um, yes, yes I did! There’s some under that old shed, I’m sure they’ll be happy to leave your crops alone and even help clear up some dead plants if we explain the situation to them!” 

“Explain the situation to them?” Harry repeated, blinking. 

“Fluttershy needs to be experienced to be believed,” Applejack chuckled. “We’ll get this stuff upstairs while you two get started outside.” 

She’d missed the looks Fluttershy had been giving the goat and wondered why Dash was giving her a chagrined “Dude!” expression. 


***


“So what’s his deal?” Dash asked a few seconds later, trying to glare down onto the garden through an upstairs window. 

“Who?” Peter said, icily. “My best friend?” 

“Who doesn’t know you’re you-know-who,” Dash retorted. 

Twilight looked up from where she and Applejack were assembling a bunkbed, one of several to fill this floor. 

“Harry needs normal,” Peter said eventually, without looking up from the duvet he was adjusting. 

“Really?” Dash deadpanned. 

“Dash--” AJ warned. 

“’Cause it sounds an awful lot like you-know-who needs it more.”

“Yeah, and who asked you?” Peter snapped, spinning around. 

“Rainbow Dash is just being protective of Fluttershy,” Twilight said, quickly stepping between them. 

“She’s bein’ a jerk about it,” Applejack agreed with an eyeroll, “but that’s sure what she’s doin’.” 

Dash folded her forelegs as she and Peter glared at opposite ends of the room, then her head bowed slightly as that darned empathy made her consider how much worse she’d have taken a crack like that. “Look, I know he’s your bud and everything, but…” 

“He’s not his father,” Peter assured. 

“If you say so, but those shades aren’t just for show. On the other hoof, you tell me—”

“Us,” Applejack amended sharply. 

“—whatever! Just say he’s not into whatever that is anymore, and I’ll back off.” 

“It’s not our business--” Twilight began but Peter put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. 

“It’s…complicated,” he decided, “but no, Harry’s good people. F.E.A.S.T.’s been good for him. And yeah, there’s a lot of reasons I haven’t let him in on my secret yet and those are between me and him.” 

“Fine,” Dash allowed. 

“Thanks ever so,” Peter muttered. 

“Come on you two,” Twilight half whined. 

“Could ya at least help us finishes these beds before ya start breakin’ stuff over each other’s heads?” Applejack grumbled. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dash shot back, flapping over to scoop up some fresh bedding. She looked at Peter as he smoothed down his meticulously made bed and decided to extend her own version of an olive branch. “Bet I can get more done faster than you!” 

“Why?” Peter squinted. “It’s not a race.”

“Great Pony in the Sky, you’re boring,” Dash muttered, giving Twilight a hopeless headshake. 

“Yeah? So how come we’re--”

Peter clamped his mouth shut so hard it almost rattled the windows, which was one of several things that instantly drew the three Elements attention. There’d been an unmistakable hint of Spider-Pony defiance in Peter’s voice, and one of Manehattan’s self-appointed wisecracking heroes trying to shut up was as hard to miss as a meteor landing on you. 

A beat as Peter’s eyes desperately shot from Magic to Honesty to Loyalty and back again, managing each twice between heartbeats. 

“We’re…?” Applejack prompted eventually. 

“Uh…” Peter stalled. 

“You and Osthorn?” Dash asked, brow raised. Her eyes narrowed. “Nah, this is a you and Johnny thing.” 

“I…didn’t…not say…that,” Peter conceded, speaking as if her glare was dragging the words up out of his throat. 

“Are you throwing some kind of party?” Twilight asked. “You were asking after Pinkie Pie earlier today.” 

“Johnny said he’d handle it,” Peter said quickly, inferring that there was an appropriate target for any wrath so subtly it could have been used for a Las Pegasus billboard.

“Handle what?” Applejack asked and Dash insisted, in sync. 

“It’s not an emergency is it?” Twilight asked urgently. Peter cracked up which didn’t set her mind at all at ease. 

Dash gave him a second to get the snickering under control, timing it just right so that he was almost but not quite done so she could play her ace. “Could always ask your aunt.”  

“Yeesh you’re cold today!” 

“As Mr. Leaf’s hooves. Spill.” 

“Alright, alright! Just don’t be upset, okay?”

“An’ why exactly would we get upset?” Applejack asked, folding her forelegs to stop herself from pawing the carpet in an irritated wind up. 

“Johnny and I might be kind of, sort of, possibly, in a near future state, if the weather holds up and the stars align--”

“Peter,” Twilight said, her own patience now worn down to the size of one of Spike’s talon clippings. 

Another beat, which was all the time Peter Glean Trotter was going to be allowed to compose his last will and testament. 

“You guys ever hear of Super Pony Poker Night?” he asked, defeated. 

The three Elements looked at each other, trying to process that word order and whether or not it was some kind of video game or tacky movie, and if they’d want to watch it. 

“Oh!” Twilight realised. “You’ve mentioned! Sometimes your, uh, the term’s the business, right? You ponies get together!” 

“Ya’ll have a poker night?” Applejack asked, wanting to establish at least one certainty in what felt like it was going to be a long string of answers raising further questions. 

“Sometimes,” Peter agreed with a nod. 

“Wait,” Dash realised, eyes bugging. “Wait, wait, wait. Are we talking about the Thing’s floating poker game?!” 

“We don’t really have a name for it,” Peter said gingerly, backing up slightly. 

Dash shot forward, almost driving him into the lower sheets of his completed bunkbed and hovering over him like an avalanche stopping mid-cataclysm to ask about your intentions with its daughter. 

“You’re hosting it,” she hissed, eyes silently shrieking as they drilled into his to uncover his secrets. 

“Co-hosting,” Peter corrected with a squeak. 

“And we’re not invited,” Dash realised, deduction, shock and outrage combining to peel her lips over her clenched teeth in a crocodilian grin. 

“Oh,” Twilight said, unsure if she should be hurt or not. “Um. Okay.” 

“Huh,” Applejack mused, scratching an ear as if probing for her own reaction. “Well, guess it would been nice to be asked but we ain’t gonna take it personally.”

“Oh yes we are,” Dash italicised, winding up a hoof. 

“Is everything alright in there,” Aunt May’s voice called from the corridor. 

“Fiiiiine!” all three Elements trilled. 

“I’ve got my rope,” Applejack warned Dash. 

“Cool, I’ve got my teeth.” 

“Oh, for… Willya stop talkin’ that way? Gonna mess up your throat.” 

“Fine,” Dash snapped, flouncing to the floor and letting Peter cautiously sit up. “Man, I can’t believe you two!”

“It’s his place as well--” Peter began. 

“Don’t want me showing you up or Twilight cramping your style, is that it?” 

“No!”

“Yeah, fair,” Dash realised, nodding to herself, “you don’t have any style to cramp. Man, I’d be so much madder if this wasn’t such a Johnnycake-tier move!” 

“There’s always next year,” Twilight said, attempting to mediate. 

“Wait...” Peter blinked. “You guys want to come?” 

Twilight blinked back. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“We run into you folks often enough,” Applajack agreed, “an’ it ain’t just you costume types what run in these circles either, from what I remember.” 

“Point,” Peter agreed. “But Grim Skies started it, so it’s always been a big thing in that side of the business. Plus, that map and everything, kinda figured you guys’d be busy.” 

“We have been rushing off a lot more since it sprang up,” Twilight admitted. 

“It’s not a problem!” Peter assured. 

“No,” Dash cut in, “you and Johnny leaving us out in the cold, that’s the problem!” 

Peter seemed to wrestle with himself for a beat. 

“I can talk to him?” he said eventually. 

“Ya don’t sound too hopeful,” Applejack pointed out, looking up from some pillowcases she’d resumed filling. “Sounds like it was his idea to keep it in the family, as it were.” 

“Kinda,” Peter admitted.

Applejack and Twilight looked at each other because Dash was too busy fuming and stuffing a duvet. 

“Is he mad at us or something?” Twilight asked. 

“No! Nonono, why would…?” Peter trailed off as he realised he might be sailing out of the eye of this particular storm. “Well, it’s not you girls specifically.”

“But he doesn’t want any Elements of Harmony there,” Dash said sharply. 

A beat. 

“He doesn’t want Rarity there,” Applejack said leadenly. 

Another beat. 

“What?” Twilight asked. She looked between Applejack and Peter as her coltfriend gave a single nod. “What? Did he do something? Rarity can’t have done something; it would be all over Ponyville! But then if Johnnycake had done something he’d be all over Equestria…”

“He’s not over her yet, is he?” Applejack muttered. 

“Ask again later,” Peter suggested with a weary sigh. “What I do know is…it’s probably about Aurora.”

“Who?” Dash asked. 

“Oh, that filly he’s seeing?” Twilight asked. “Did she do something?” 

“They’re pretty tame together, honestly,” Peter said simply. He repressed another sigh and started work on a bunk. “But if I know ol’ Flame Brain it’s probably that right after it occurred to him our place would make the perfect spot for this year’s game, it also occurred to him that he…neglected to mention Aurora’s existence. To Rarity.” 

“Who’s over him, though, right?” Applejack asked, looking sharply up at Rainbow Dash, as she quickly considered certain group interactions that now made sense outside of her best friend’s usual Leap-Into-Convo, Find-Out-What-It’s-About-Later approach. 

Dash sighed and threw a duvet down a little harder than necessary. 

“Ask again later.” 


2


“Back, you wretched bagatelle! Back, I said! I shan’t tell you again!” 

H.E.R.B.I.E. beep booped cheerfully, extending more brushes from his waldos. Rarity ducked, shielding her mane. 

“My hair is fine, blast your eyes!” 

This scene was taking place in the Baxter Building’s lobby. Passing tourists, fresh off the Fantastic Family tour, slowed to take in the sight of Rarity Belle, up and coming designer, ducking the attentions of what almost looked like a futuristic vacuum cleaner, wondering if it was some kind of warm up act. Office workers from Fantastic Inc.’s various businesses simply passed through, only bothering to roll their eyes at somepony making the rookie mistake of asking H.E.R.B.I.E. for help.

Rarity charged then ducked, shooting under the little automaton and galloping for the gift shop. She’d only approached the hovering thing because it had looked like something Mr. Fantastic would make. She wasn’t sure one of the building proprietors’ (ugh) ‘rogues’ hadn’t made it, but there was certainly something Mephistophelian about how it kept trying to foist odds and sods on her! 

She tried hiding behind an inflatable version of the Thing and surveyed her new terrain. The FF’s gift shop was almost as large as the executive lounge across the floor, likely two offices with a wall knocked through to make room for the sheer amount of merchandise if she was any judge. 

She’d thought the layout was a tad sloppy at first glance, but she wasn’t going to complain now; the various islands of merchandise (which really ought to be sorted according to each Family member!) provided plenty of cover if a filly rolled quickly enough between them. She could get out of the building, loose that infernal contraption and wait for Johnny in one of the cafés across the street. 

“C’mon Herb, not now!” whined an adolescent voice up front. 

Rarity stuck her muzzle around the Clobber ‘N’ Wobble Action Thing’s™ slightly swaying shoulders. The vacuum cleaner was hovering around one of the checkouts, much to the annoyance of the worker stationed there, its beautician arsenal now joined by several disinfectant bottles. It was trying, pleasantly but persistently, to give the unit a thorough cleaning. 

That was the thing about it, if this was what Johnny had told her about: Dr. Rivers had created it as some kind of assistant and it just sort of…went on assisting, whether you wanted it to or not. Somehow one of the most intelligent ponies in Equestria had neglected to include an on/off switch. 

As the thing began to simultaneously clean the checkout and ring up various customers’ purchases, resulting in it wrestling to yank said purchases out of their hooves so it could clean those too, Rarity reared up on tippy-hooves and snuck behind a rack of Family plushies and a revolving display of Propeller Propelled Fantasti-Chariots™. 

She turned and suppressed a yelp as she came face to face with the sneers of a wall of action figure villains and gripped the string of a loose Phantasmal Pony balloon, letting it float her across the store. H.E.R.B.I.E. was now trying to offer an increasingly irate line of customers compensatory beverages and translate a guidebook for a Saddle Arabian couple, oblivious to her progress. 

Satisfied, Rarity daintily lowered a hoof onto a plastic representation of the Panther Prince, adorned with a sign asking for donations to wildlife preservation, deposited a bit into the slot in its head, and merrily skipped off and towards the entrance. 

“Oh wow, I love your mane,” a passing Pegasus said. 

“Why thank you, darling!” Rarity told her, then froze mid-preen. She’d said that just a bit louder than her admirer’s compliment and now most of the store was turned towards her…including the beep booping bugger from Discord’s own workshop! 

Rarity whined as she took off, H.E.R.B.I.E. merrily pursuing her with a hot towel and a phonebook waving amidst his seemingly endless waldos.  

She skidded on the waxed faux-marble floor to avoid colliding with a mail cart, turning into her skid and using its momentum to lunge to the safety of the reception desk where she’d made the mistake of approaching the confounded thing. 

“Now look,” she huffed, swatting away each inquisitive waldo. “It’s quite simple. I don’t need grooming tips or a massage…or at least I didn’t until you began foisting yourself upon me. Put that sorbet away! Away, I said! I don’t need any of this! I simply wish to know where Johnnycake Storm is. No, not that kind of cake, blast you! JOH-nee-caaaay-k'h. Don’t make me say his silly nom de guerre.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. keened a beeeeeeeeeep-boop of apprehension and sprouted an A1 sized map of Manehattan, almost knocking her backwards into the swivel chair. 

A flaming minotaur hand materialised between them and snapped its fingers to turn them towards…

“Oh garçon,” Johnnycake smirked. 

He rolled his eyes as H.E.R.B.I.E. shot towards him, beeping, booping and using a free waldo to wave between his fine self and the map. 

“Yeah, yeah Sputnik, the filly’s got eyes,” he assured, then cocked his head to one side. “Uh oh, know that look…” 

“Then you should have known better than to earn it,” Rarity huffed, hoping off the desk. “Where have you been anyway? I called in at Yancy Street but you were…” 

“On my way here.” Johnny shrugged. “There was a thing with a mad alchemist and a living cauldron. Weirdly? Not supervillains. Swear to sun I dunno what this town’s coming to. Off! Like I need it.” 

This was to H.E.R.B.I.E., who was now trying to lift Johnny’s hind legs with two waldos and wield a series of Psycho strings inducing farrier implements. 

“I could fill every shelf in Twilight’s library with volumes of what you need,” Rarity huffed, throwing her nose into the air so it caught the glimmer of a space age chandelier above them just right. 

“I may not have been around so much,” Johnny admitted, then delivered a smart rap of a hoof to H.E.R.B.I.E’s midsection. Rarity blinked as a hatch swung open. Despite this kinda-sorta-evisceration the automaton beep-booped merrily, sending waldos into himself to probe for anything useful. 

“Only really here to pick up my laundry,” Johnny explained, then rounded on H.E.R.B.I.E. “You hear that? My laundry. Not a box, not a fox, not a house, not a mouse!” 

“Your block’s lousy with laundrettes,” Rarity pointed out.

“Yeah,” Johnny said as H.E.R.B.I.E. rummaged himself, “but it’s free here.” 

Rarity raised a perfect brow. “You are struggling for money?” 

“You are peeved at me for some reason.” 

“Indeed!” Rarity spun with balletic grace and military aggression, almost swatting him to the floor with her tail. “And now I can take great pleasure in not telling you why!” 

“Oh come on!” Johnny pleaded. 

Rarity didn’t so much as hmph, keeping her back to him as she folded her forelegs. 

“You seriously came all the way out here just to not speak to me?” 

A single, prim nod. 

“Because you think I haven’t been speaking to you…?” Johnny tried. 

A beat. Nothing but distant sounds of traffic and the almost airport bustle of the Baxter Building trying to flow around these three weirdos and go about its day. 

Had Rarity’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly or was she just settling into her sulk? 

“Fine, fine,” Johnny smiled, warming up to wheedle, “but you’re gonna miss out on some prime comedy when H.E.R.B.I.E. finally finds my—No, no, no you bargain basement Warhol exhibit, not in here!” 

Rarity could no more have resisted those sounds than the planet could its own rotation. Her eyes, belonging to a tribe that had evolved in one of the most magical lands on the planet and which had spent a few years learning to interpret Pinkie Pie movements, managed to process the sudden burst of activity. 

H.E.R.B.I.E. had pulled out a package she instinctively recognised as a row of professional grade garment bags, obviously using mass shifting magic to store them and all his other gadgets. Obviously, he’d also forgotten one of the rules of that sort of magic was to handle large items slowly. 

Magic could conveniently alter the natural order of things, but the natural order could sort of…feel when that was happening. Move too fast and it would get excited and rush to return to what felt right, which in the case of something big being reduced to something small meant…ah, yes, there it went. 

Garment bags mushroomed into the air between them, swelling to twice their normal volume as spells and nature fought to course correct. Kinetic energy woke up a few seconds after they hit the floor, worried it had missed its cue and leapt down the path of least resistance. Zippers unzipped and a torrent of expertly pressed and cleaned fabrics fountained into Johnny’s face. 

Rarity blinked at him as H.E.R.B.I.E. made frantic, apologetic beeps and boops.

Johnny gave her a sanguine smile from between the Istallion swimming trunks draping majestically over his head.   

It became more relieved and enthusiastic when Rarity stopped fighting it and burst out laughing. 


***


Despite all of that happening in full view of the lobby, and most passers-by being Manehattanites and not caring, they surreptitiously procured a side room to sort things out. 

“There we go,” Rarity sighed as she finished telekinetically grouping the last of Johnny’s summer wear. 

She stepped aside as H.E.R.B.I.E. flew to it, happily folding and arranging it with those infernal waldos of his. She was starting to see why Johnny kvetched about the little droid so much. She’d been aware of it’s existence for almost ten minutes now and it was so…there, all the bloody time, she wanted to catch Equestrian Express' fastest redline special back to that glorious state of ignorant bliss. 

“Yeah,” Johnny smirked, reading her blank expression perfectly, “the Herbster is the biggest pain in my tail for several reasons, most of them to do with being him and the rest that you can’t find a finer Pranceisian folding technique in the whole city. Seriously, opening the closest after he’s done is like walking in on a symphony.” 

H.E.R.B.I.E.’s little screen briefly flashed pink at the compliment. 

“Is that a challenge?” Rarity asked, offering the quip more to show she was perhaps predisposed towards a conversation. 

“No. Why’re you mad at me?” 

“Who said I was mad? I was not talking to you, if you’ll recall, and then you went and spoiled everything.” 

“Is this about money?” 

“You beg my pardon?” 

“Just checking. Taking something your sister did out on me?” 

“You’re four months older than me.” 

“And since when did that stop you?” 

Rarity fumed then conjured a neatly folded article clipping. (Though not as neatly folded as his precious Heeeeeerbie’s!) Johnny took it and scrutinised a photo of himself and an excited looking Dutch White mare with a rainbow mane stepping out of a theme park. He was carrying a giant stuffed teddy bear on his back for her. 

“Well?” Rarity prompted. She rolled her eyes as Johnny simply raised an eyebrow at her. “You have a new girlfriend, you buffoon!” 

“And what, you’re jealous?” 

“Don’t make me seal you inside one of these bags and mail you to a landfill.”

Johnny held up his free hoof placatingly, keeping quiet in case anything he said came off as a quip and kept...whatever this was going. Rarity’s expression softened. 

They both side-eyed the hovering H.E.R.B.I.E. He opened his hatch and began digging around for whatever he felt would be appropriate for this situation. “Mail room,” Johnny said, indicating the door with his head. H.E.R.B.I.E. saluted and shot off. “Hey, and I mean my mail from the room! Do not try to bring the whole thing in here, not again! Was that a ‘got it’ beep or a ‘yes’ boop? Ugh.”

Rarity shook head, smiling but not chuckling, and tapped the article with a hoof. “Why didn’t you tell me about Olive Green?” she asked. 

“Aurora Sheen,” Johnny said automatically. 

“Aha! Now I have a name!” 

“Could hook you up with her address too, if you’d like. Not like we’re hiding anything.” 

“Then why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“We’re trying to keep things low-key.” 

She stared at him. He shrugged. She kept staring. 

“Stop that,” Johnny said eventually. 

“Stop what?”

“Giving me…y’know! The detective look! There’s nothing to figure out! Aurora and I just wanna keep it on the downlow.”

“Johnny, is there something about this pony I should know?” 

“If there was dont’cha think it’d be all over the news by now?” 

“Fair enough,” Rarity allowed. She sighed, sitting on the edge of the workbench they’d been using to gather his laundry, still scrutinising him. “It’s just…Johnny, last we talked your flyer’s licence was, shall we say, indeterminate because you were after that extra-terrestrial ex of yours. Then not only do you vanish on me for weeks, I have to find out about your new filly from Empire!” 

She waited expectantly through a slight pause, daring him to say something silly.

“You read Empire?” he said eventually, genuinely concerned. 

“No, you great goon! Sweetie Belle and the other Crusaders do, and I read over their shoulders. I’d write to them and complain if I were you two, though. They didn’t do a very good job of invading your privacy. I had to trick her actual name out of you, even.”

“Aurora’s cool with staying on the side lines. You’re the one always telling me I need more normal ponies in my life!” 

“Well…” He had her there, curse him. “Well, yes, but I’m one of those ponies and you should have told me about her!”

“You?” Johnny smirked. “Normal?”

“Don’t you try and logic your way out of this! You left me fretting over your situation and then vanished on me for weeks. And not introducing me to Aurora Dream,—”

“Sheen,” Johnny corrected, secure and amused. 

“—me! Do you have any idea what you’ve deprived the poor filly of? Oh, the dresses she could have had. The experience. What’s the point in saving the best for last when you have so little to save up to it? And then there’s the Rainbow Dash situation.” 

“Which one? She gets around.”

“Tell me about it, but don’t tell me you failed to notice Aurora’s magnificent mane.”

“I am not Deerdevil,” Johnny deadpanned, holding up one hoof and placing another on a nearby catalogue. Rarity looked blank. “I’m not blind, is what I’m saying. Yeah, I noticed, no, this is not some kinda sad attempt to relive flight school. They aren’t even alike. Aurora actually digs just curling up in front of a movie…well, okay, Dash does too, but this rainbow pony isn’t bugging me to take ’em along when Ego the Living Planet pokes his head in through the atmosphere.” 

“The living what now?” Rarity blinked then held up a hoof. “No, don’t bother. If you want to make it up to me, promise you’ll keep me in the loop. I’m that friend! You know I need juicy details to get the old blood pumping and half the conversation would be about you anyway. You love talking about you, and I assume you wouldn’t mind describing your feelings about the dashing Ms. Sheen?” 

Johnny smirked some more and spread his forelegs for a hug. 

“Bup-bup-bup!” Rarity chided, waving a warning hoof. “You have debts to pay first. So, what’s she like? What’s she into? What is her ‘deal’, as the foals say?” 

Johnny considered. 

“She’s nice to be around,” he decided. “It feels like she loves the city and it’s hard not to join in, y’know?”

“Oh, yes, that’s not like Rainbow Dash at all.” 

“Fair. I dunno, it’s…like she’s got nothing to prove so I don’t either. I like taking her places, which surprised me.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, just…goin’ around the city. Give me a really bad hat and I could’ve been a tourist. And I don’t care! She’s just really, really happy that she gets to live in the greatest city on Earth.” 

“That isn’t Canterlot,” Rarity smiled. “Does she find similar satisfaction in her job, or…?”

“Oh totally! She lives with her family. They make wicked awesome ice cream and stuff.” 

Rarity gaaaaasped at him. Had he been on fire she’d have put him out. “You’re dating an ice cream pony and you didn’t think to introduce us?!” 

“She prefers the term confectioner.” 

“You’re learning new words? Without me?! That settles it. I must meet your mystery mare. It is destiny. Don’t try to stop it.”

“We’ll see if we can pencil you in,” Johnny smiled. 

“Hmph! Tell me you’ve at least introduced her to your sister.” 

Speak of the devil wearing Prada: the door swung itself open. Johnny and Rarity looked at each other. Sand Sousaphone Storm, wearing her business suit and an expression like her namesake, shimmered into existence and almost sent them leaping into each other’s forelegs. H.E.R.B.I.E. floating over Sue’s shoulder and the boxes she was levitating did nothing to help with the image. 

“Hi Rarity,” Sue said, not taking her eyes off her little brother. “Stop sending us your crud.” 

“The post office sends you my crud,” Johnny countered. 

“They don’t send us your laundry.” 

“…you, uh, you and Reed coming over tonight?” Johnny quavered, trying to keep his dignity while looking too pathetic to be worth destroying. 

“Maybe,” Sue said, rolling her eyes as she levitated his package into his hooves. 

“Tonight?” Rarity asked. 

“Poker night,” Sue smiled. She took in Rarity’s blank stare and turned to Johnny. “You haven’t invited Rarity and the girls? I’d’ve though Pinkie Pie at least--”

“Hey,” Johnny scowled, “did you open this?!” He held it out for both mares to see the slightly flapping cardboard tabs. A freezer bag was nestled inside, its zip almost deliberately askew to make the crime abundantly clear. 

“Grim did,” Sue said, smiling in a way that had something of her brother’s smirk in it. “And I happened to be passing.” 

“You ate my ice cream,” Johnny said accusingly. 

“The post office sent us your ice cream,” Sue simpered back. “So, you girls won’t come to poker night, Rarity?”

“If we’re invited, I suppose,” the Element smiled. “I’m sure Applejack and Rainbow Dash would find some trouble to get into. A chance to rub elbows, is it?” 

“Without having to throw hooves.” 

“Ah, thought so. Don’t mind choking the odd chicken myself! What’re the stakes?” 

“We give the pot to charity,” Sue said with gentle firmness. 

“Very big of you,” Rarity agreed hastily, trying to pretend there hadn’t been a gleam in her eye. 

“It’s more about hanging out without the fate of the world at stake,” Sue continued. “Are you sure you girls won’t come? It feels like you’re in and out of the boys’ place almost every third week as it is.” 

“Hmm, who’s on the list?”

“Oh, some of the Plucky’s crowd. Grim started it so he’s always there, Peter of course…you, ah, do know…?”

“I know who Spider-Pony is, yes.” 

“Right, right, it’s hard to keep track sometimes, he’s so touchy about it.”

“Oh, I know!” 

“Anyway, him, us, some of the Befrienders, of course.”

“They still make those?” Rarity asked, then shut her eyes at such a lack of tact. “What I mean is, what with their current, um, situation…”

“The team’s still not in a good place,” Sue agreed. “Which just makes get togethers like this all the more important.” 

“I’ll give you important,” Johnny said, inserting himself between them and holding out a hoof. “Gimme a pen. I’m fixing this post office stuff right now.” 

“And all you needed was the proper motivation,” Sue smirked, passing him a pen. 

“Yeah yeah, you guys got any more packages for me?” 

Sue changed her expression to a more pleasant one, timing it perfectly to coincide with making a small cloud of packages she’d been hiding visible and to stop levitating them. Johnny’s mail cascaded over him, leaving only his pen clutching hoof visible. 

“Anyway, some of the Hex-Ponies, the Daughters of the Dragon...you made a face.”

“No, no, uh, it’s just Misty Night is our, uh, the word ponies keep throwing around is liaison?”

“Oh, I remember when we had one of those. You know what helped? A box of chocolates at Hearth’s Warming!” 

“Hmmm. What about a homemade card?”

“You want to make sure they’re on your side, hon.”

“True, true…”


***


As this went on, H.E.R.B.I.E. surreptitiously held out a waldo to Johnny’s package. A few quick flicks and a glowing rune appeared on its tip, flying to merge with the box. Johnny checked to make sure the girls hadn’t seen anything, then gave the droid a rare nod of respect. 


***


“—and then Pinkie starts trying to dance upside down on the table and you just know there’s no hope but to smile and start edging towards the stairwell,” Rarity was concluding. “So it’s a tempting offer, but perhaps next year. I shall ask, though.” 

“Great,” Sue smiled, turning to the door, “say hi to Rainbow and the others for me.”

“Ah, not to sound like I’m demanding you return the favour,” Rarity said quickly, “but would you likewise pass on my compliments to Aurora Sheen?” 

“I would if Johnny ever bought her around here.” 

“What’s that?!” the hothead in question blurted, bolting out of his pile to throw a companionable foreleg around a startled Rarity’s neck. “A musical number about the importance of Super Pony Poker Night? Well, hay, why not?!” 

“I can think of a few rea--” Rarity began but was dragged off her hooves. 

“H.E.R.B.I.E., hit it!” 

“When he’s done, tell him to use his own detergent,” Sue called, pulling the door closed after her as she fled. 


3


Rarity had better things to do, so Peter suited up and subbed in. They also had to write it up first. This wasn't Ponyville, after all. Manehattan took (non-union) musical numbers seriously. 

“Arighty!“ Spider-Pony declared, whipping a last sheet out of a typewriter. 616B Yancy Street's living room slid away with a blast of trumpets to reveal a casino backdrop as he threw his head back. “♫A-one, a-two, a-one, two thr--♫“

“Oooh, wait, wait, wait,” Johnny cut in, digging into his utility collar. He pulled out his compact, which had started beeping, though it hadn’t been overwhelming until he’d actually pulled it out. 

The casino set whined down into shadows. Spidey stared at his partner as the Torch flipped it open, scanning its screen.

Eventually the Web-Slinger began pointedly tapping his hoof. “What, you got a hot date or something?”

“Yep!” Johnny said cheerfully, snapping the compact closed. 

“What? Seriously?” 

“Yeah, mad scheduling mix up, sorry bud, super cool of you to cover for me, they should name a street after you, big ups, peace.”

“But!” Spidey cried as Johnny flamed on, hovering off the floor of this void they were just montaging in. “B-biggest event of the hero year…a personality powder keg!” 

“Yeah, but Aurora’s always wanted to go to the top of the Statue of Destiny,” Johnny breezed, conjuring a flaming umbrella construct. 

“You’re seriously leaving me to handle this…” 

“Not seriously! Look! Look how widely I’m smiling. Look how perfect my teeth are.” 

“Johnny! Most of the community's counting on today! We have enough grudges and turf disputes as it is, this could tip all of that over! With our apartment as ground zero! Agh! I just realised I don’t even remember who knows my real identity and who doesn’t!”

“Oh wow,” Johnny grinned, “maybe I should stay…eh, you were a jurno, you can photo the whole thing.”

“I’ve never hosted a party in my life! You can’t leave me without a plan!” 

“Awright, awright. Listen.” 

Spidey leaned in desperately as the Torch beckoned him closer, then began to fiddle with his blazing umbrella. 

“Here’s the vital elements to a good party: good liquor, good music and…” He snapped the ‘brella open, waving down as it swept him up and out of shot. “Goooooood luuuuuuuuck!” 

“You SUUUUUUCK!” Spidey shrieked after him, waving clenched hooves. 

He trotted in place for a few seconds, moaning, then blinked in realisation. “Elements….”  

He fired a web-line, hauling tail off screen. 

After a beat Discord, dressed as a janitor, walked by with a broom, sweeping up and whistling. 


4


“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Twilight Sparkle said, the Cutie Map glowing ethereally behind her. “You want all of us to set up a poker party—”

“Which ya didn’t invite us to,” Applejack cut in, mostly to prevent Rainbow Dash from doing so more colourfully, although the Pegasus was being worryingly quiet. 

“—for ponies we barely know,” Twilight continued, her own temper flaring with incredulity, “and we have, what, about three hours to pull this off?!” 

A beat. 

“Huuuuuuh?!” Spider-Pony cajoled, throwing his forelegs wide, his lenses in happy emoji mode. 

Another beat. 

Applejack and Rarity were unphased. Pinkie Pie looked intrigued if not excited. Twilight was staring open mouthed at him, and Fluttershy was looking around at everypony else for a reaction and wondering why, since this sounded like a nightmare she’d have. 

Spike glanced between the staring couple then contemplated the image of Manehattan on the map. And the amount of space in his autograph book. 

“I mean,” he tried, “it is for charity…” 

“An’ it sounds like it means a lot to these folks,” Applejack sighed. 

“And I’ll owe all of you for basically ever,” Spidey said quickly. 

“More importantly, Johnnycake shall owe me,” Rarity grinned. 

“Twi?” Applejack asked, trying to maintain some kind of free will in the face of inevitability. 

The Element of Magic was still staring at her boyfriend. Everypony felt their gazes being dragged away from her to Rainbow Dash, lounging in her own throne, hooves behind her head. And smiling. Like a catastrophe curve. 

“Pinkie?” Twilight asked eventually, never taking her eyes off a wilting Spidey. 

“Half an hour if everypony including Spike helps,” the party pony responded instantly. “Some hors d'oeuvre from your pantry, Sugar Cube Corners’ backlog and a spare keg of Sweet Apple Acres’ juice with a lil’ of Rarity’s rum to spice things up. Pete, what’s the average age range?”

“Bwuh?”

“For the music, colt, geez!” 

“Uh, the Thing’s like over 40, Cap’s…Celestia knows, but everypony else is about a year older than me and Johnny?” 

“We got this,” Pinkie said, nodding at Twilight. 

“One last thing,” Twilight cut in. “Who does and doesn’t know how to play?” 

Fluttershy instantly put her hoof up, then coughed when she realised Twilight still wasn’t turning around. “Um…”

“And I’ll be hosting,” Pinkie supplied. 

“Don’t even think about it, Spike,” Twilight said, instantly crushing any thought of protest. 

Spidey blinked at her. “You guys are gonna play?”   

He took a step backwards as Twilight took one forward. 

“We’re getting dragged back to your city to throw together a party, rife with tension and set to go on Celestia and Luna knows how sun blasted long, for ponies powerful enough to wipe the whole place out by sneezing too hard. And not only do you expect us to put our lives on hold to deal with this, knowing full well we could be called away to sort out somepony else’s problems at any second, this is only happening because your self-satisfied roommate knew we’d do it.” 

Her eyes glowed with seething violet radiance. 

“You’re darn right we’re playing!” 

“Me,” Rainbow Dash said, showing a death’s-head grin, “I just wanna watch you squirm. Let’s party.” 


To Be Continued

> Two Flare (2)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


5


From up here and closing Battery Park seemed to glow in the late afternoon light. 

Weird, Johnny thought as he swooped through the space between two buildings, how he could fly over the place a million times and barely register it and then it would somehow become the most important place in the world. Always seemed to happen with the right pony. 

There’d been a lot of right ponies. 

Then again Reed was fascinated by Manehattan’s…ugh, what’d he call them? Urban psychotropic properties! Yeah, like, how people and places could affect each other, mixing magic or something like that. Ponyville and similar adorable little postcard villages felt like that because of how dependant on the surrounding nature they were, and nearby forests and such could feel like they just fit those towns, y’know? 

Which raised a question he’d need the right kind of smarmy circumstances to pose to Dash or Rarity; what caused what, the Everfree or Ponyville? 

Mmm, have to make sure Pete wasn’t around to ruin the bit with a historically accurate answer. Guy devoted so much time to the art of the one liner but get him out of costume and in front of a book…

Point being the right person could make even Manehattan’s most mundane places something extra. Many a club owed its silent gratitude to the Torch for setting hoof over its VIP section. 

Johnny didn’t usually bother with Battery Park’s terminal even after he and Spidey selected good ol’ Lady Destiny as their meeting place, but this wouldn’t be the first date he’d taken the ferry with. Crystal had loved visiting the statue…no. Don’t go there. Not today. He’d need to focus. 

For starters, he actually had to find her. 

“Oh stars above, it’s Lavan made flesh!” a nearby pedestrian cried. 

“The mutants have finally come for us all!” shrieked another. 

“Don’t stare, honey,” an elephant mother told her child. “That’s rude.”

Johnny blinked then realised the issue: not that he was hovering still blazing a few feet above the crowd searching for his quarry but that the terminal would of course be full of tourists, who weren’t used to super ponies. Bless their little hooves! 

Still, his flyers licence didn’t need any more attention from Their Majesties’ government and Shining Armor had played a lot of cards to keep him in the air after that low flying subway disaster last month. Better play it uncharacteristically basic and flame off.  

He performed a loop-de-loop to stick to his personal brand as he unignited, dropping with causal skateboarder grace to the terminal floor, and scanned the milling crowd, smiling for the benefit of the staring out of towners. People always reacted better to a pony who could catch fire if they smiled. 

No sign of Aurora, but he hadn’t seriously been expecting any. Confirming a hunch, or conformation bias? 

Johnny gave up and sauntered to the ticket booth. “Hi,” he smiled at the mare inside, “listen, this is embarrassing but I might’ve lost my pass in a freak interdimensional jet ski accident.” 

The mare behind the partition blinked, trying not to lose herself in the soothing blue universe his eyes were portals too, and hastily began to fumble for some paperwork. “Of course, Mr. Storm, of course!”


***


Fresh pass tucked into his collar and a satisfactory number of eyes on his fine self, Johnny trotted into the throng to keep looking for his date. Might as well whip out her gifts, give her a--

“Surprise!” Aurora Sheen announced behind him. 

She failed to suppress hysterical giggles as Johnny leapt, almost reigniting and juggling a bouquet and a small box. 

“Every time!” he grinned, spinning into her embrace. 

“Sorry,” Aurora snickered. “Light hooves run in the family.”

“Yeah, gotta have a soft touch to make a soufflé that good. The Thing loves you guys, by the way. I’m so very, very sorry. He’s probably gonna try and move in.”

“Bakery could use a rock garden,” she grinned back as they trotted towards the terminal. Her eyes flicked from his to the gifts nestled in his crooked foreleg. “Those, uh, those for me?” 

“Well, you said your folks didn’t want the hassle of a celebrity endorsement, so…” 

“Yeah, sorry, there’s just so many horror stories, y’know? One day you’re Straight Shot’s favourite brand of buck ball shoes, the next everypony’s wondering if you were in on all that, ah...” 

“Minotaur horn harvesting, I hear ya.” Johnny waved her gifts tantalisingly under her nose. “Soooo? Which one ya want first?”

“I don’t know!” she snickered. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“No, I know. I wanted to.” Johnny’s teasing expression melted into something more sincere, with just a hint of melancholy. “It’s just been a really good couple weeks, y’know?” 

They looked into each other’s eyes for a pause with enough inertia to…

Be completely shattered by a blast from an arriving ferry horn. 

Johnny blinked as Aurora spun, sinking into an almost lioness like crouch, about to spring either to run or…something more forceful. She looked up at him, surprised at herself and awkwardly stood up, blushing. “Sorry! Uh. Still the new filly in the big city, I guess.”

“It’s fine,” Johnny smiled. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 


***


A few minutes later and it was as if they were drifting through an entirely different universe. 

Johnny, who’d been doing such things since before he’d been old enough to shave, was warming to this mundane kind of magic. Ordinary places gaining a new potency from just standing there with the right person. 

Then again, he had a lot of memories of waiting for carriages and trains back when Mom…with Mom, as a foal. Back when his love of machinery had been kicking in. And as much of a sky rider as he was, it was impossible to resist that thrum of a fine piece of machinery like the ferry cutting through the water, all that motion and resistance lapping at the hull and up into your hooves.

(Sky rider…was that still trending? He’d have to ask Soarin’, then double check with whoever the ol’ pie eater was mentoring this week.) 

“—and after that we just kinda kept going back,” he was explaining to Aurora as they shared a bench, relaxing against each other in a salt smelling breeze. “Don’t tell anypony but it was really just so I could see if the Web-Head could get all the way out there a second time. And he just, like, kept doing it?”

“Oh, he sneaks up on you too, huh?” Aurora chuckled. 

“He wishes! Besides, I don’t care how you do it. It’s kinda nice to have something reliable like that.”

“Like Lady Destiny is a reliable romantic conversation piece or like these bouquets are a reliable romantic appetizer?” She’d elected to go with that first and was nibbling on it now. 

“Sorry,” Johnny chuckled. “Have I used them before?”

“No,” Aurora said a bit too quickly. She smoothed some rainbow bangs out of her face. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a corny routine but so’s living in Manehattan all this time and not visiting the statue.” 

“Lady Destiny,” Johnny corrected gently. 

“Oh, you’re one of those.”

“Keep it up, kid, you’ll be a Manehattanite in no time.” He put a foreleg around her as they shared a chuckle. “For real, though. City’s only so big. Sorry if anything feels like a re-tread.” 

“Why would it?”

“Well. Y’know. There’ve been other ponies. You know Rarity?”

Aurora blinked in confusion. “Johnny,” she said slowly, “Equestria is full of--”

“The designer,” he hastily amended. 

“No?” Aurora shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, confectionary’s--”

“A sweet gig?”

“A lot of things. Mostly time consuming. And then there’s my classes—if your family wasn’t so big, I’d probably barely’ve heard of you either.”

“I like the sound of big.”

“I figured,” she giggled. 

Something about how the light changed on the water just then made them both turn. Wherever she was right now, Celestia was lowering the sun. 

Almost every eye on the ferry watched as the sky began to strobe from the stagnant, fading blue of evening into a vivid yet soothing inferno, Luna’s approaching night tinging the horizon purple. The Statue of Destiny stood perfectly still as the world changed around her, haloed by the sinking sun. 

Johnny turned his head…right into Aurora’s kiss. 

A beat. 

He began to kiss back just as she realised, he wasn’t and began to back off. 

“Sorry!” she murmured. “Just felt like the right time…”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, staring through her. 

Another beat. 

“Are we breaking up?” Aurora asked uncertainly. 

“What? No!” Johnny assured hollowly. He looked at the statue, a slanting shadow now as night spread around it like wildfire. “Just wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“Are you angry with me?” A hint of pleading in her voice. 

“Why would I be?” Johnny asked breezily, hoping he sounded convincingly amused. 

Aurora looked him up and down, hesitating. “Well,” she ventured eventually, “you know. You’re the big bad superhero and I’m just a little baker pony from the middle of nowhere.” 

“Manehattan’s not nowhere,” Johnny smiled, putting a foreleg around her shoulders. “Look, we came all this way. You wanna turn around, no problem, but I’m not going anywhere. Just wasn’t ready for the moment is all. I will be when you see the city by moon-rise. Promise.” 

“Well then…” Aurora grinned. 

“And we’re not talking the stands, either! Oh hey, you don’t have a problem with heights, right? Just hit me, never taken you flying.” 

“No?” 

“Oh, sweet! Something to look forward to.” Johnny pointed at the looming monument. “After the view of the Equestria State Building turning it’s lights on, from the best seat in Lady Destiny’s house, obviously.” 

Sunset light danced in Aurora’s widening eyes. “You mean…from the crown?” Sunset light danced in Aurora’s widening eyes. 

“Where else?” Johnny chuckled, returning her sudden embrace. 

Yeah. The crown. Where there’d be almost nopony to get caught in any crossfire. 

And where she’d have nowhere to run. 


6


Manehattan Island is so large that it naturally generates a vast array of magical background radiations, unique even by the standards of Equestira’s place in the GCS (Grand Continental Spectrum). And that’s just counting its ancient ley lines, not centuries worth of additional ones imposed by ever changing architecture and a diverse, teeming, living populous.  

Manehattan’s magic, some have said, is in its people. Equestria has a lot to say about those same people. Manehattanites have a lot to say right back and are infamous for always having something to say. An important saying to apply here is derived from an observation made by noted thaumal dynamicist and empath of the 7th level, Professor Event Horizon. 

If magic is a reflection of the people who wield it, she famously said, and personality similarly informs magic, then Manehattan has personality the way planets have gravity. 

Magic effects light (in some cases even time. On Earth Equestria, “In a Manehattan minute” isn’t just an expression) which is why there will be Avatars of the sun and the moon long after Celestia and Luna are finally gone, and why there were centuries of them before the sisters’ ancestors were capable of standing on all fours. 

Manehattan has so much background magic that, even in perfect sync and going all out on the best day of their lives, the Avatars still won’t be able to make the city that never sleeps go to bed on time. 

From a bird’s eye view night doesn’t fall on Manehattan: it grows in patches, like stains spreading across a canvas, different districts shifting from sunset to shadows until the entire city is finally covered.  

Too Long, Didn’t Read; Manehattan has a lot of background magic. Magic screws with light, so sunset happens differently in Manehattan. 

This preamble is to explain why while Johnny and the person calling herself Aurora Sheen can trot leisurely off a ferry just as night begins, the clouds over Midtown are only starting to pinken as Rainbow Dash tucks from a power-dive into a side kick to an Inner Demon’s masked head. 

The way the sky suddenly bursts into orange flecked with pastel purple and blue clouds at the exact moment of impact is just a coincidence. 


7


“KRAKA-DABBA-DOOM!” 

The war cry was for two reasons. 
A)  She’d just done something awesome and everypony should know. 
B)  It drew the attention of the group lightning up 42nd Street away from all the fleeing civilian and onto her. 

“Huh,” Rainbow mused to herself, taking a second of flipping off her previous target’s face to scrutinise the rest, being upside down posing no obstacle to her. 

She’d heard of the Inner whatever guys because they were so new, but they were their own thing. Usually. The pony in a snazzy suit and gnarly monster mask hitting the asphalt had about four buddies mixed in with the crowd of...ten, fifteen…nineteen goons, each wearing a different matching costume. 

She recognised some A.I.M. beekeeper outfits in there from the old days with Johnny, less sure about the rest. Weird to see them all hanging together. She didn’t have the street connections here she had back in Cloudsdale, but she was pretty sure the Big Apple’s gangs didn’t share the same stables all that often. 

“LOOT!” bellowed a ninja. 

“PILLAGE!” agreed one in a blue bodysuit and a creepy puppet mask. 

On the other hoof, bad guys: bad. Her: badass. Why complicate things? 

The neatest opponent, decked out in some sort of white skiing outfit, swung a bag of loot or whatever as she lunged forward. Dash turned pulling up short into a full body spin, wrapping her hind legs around his neck and letting momentum flip them both around. A straight up Frankenstiner, baby! 

She sensed two more trying to surround her and sprang off her hooves, snapping out both wings to deliver teeth rattling slaps. She spun as they pinwheeled into the asphalt, facing the remaining goons as she landed. 

“Ho-kay!” she declared, pawing the ground. “I got four hooves and there’s like sixteen of you left so whoamama!” 

Lasers! Right! They had those. 

Dash sprang behind an abandoned cart as the A.I.M. grunts and those puppet face guys let loose with their hoof-bows. Their laser hoof-bows. How fair was that?! 

Take a regular ol’ hoof mounted mini-crossbow, which could already be modded to fire more than just classic pointy arrows, like shards of glass or small stones, and jam in a crystal battery. Boom, mini-Unicorn horn. On the bright side, they’d run outta juice after so many shots and it had to be the right kinda crystal to go all Star Trot, which was why only ultra-rich weirdos really had them. Even the E.U.P. only had a couple hundred for every platoon. 

And then the Crystal Empire had come back. 

Slap a few fully charged bows onto a small squad’s wrists and you had a couple hundred shots, with enough cover fire for the empties to recharge. And those A.I.M. guys had what looked like battery packs on their backs. Awesome.

“LOOT!”

“PILLAGE!” 

Dash risked a peek. Three jerks were keeping up the barrage, but their buddies were breaking off, heading for a couple storefronts they hadn’t torn up yet. 

“LOOT!” 

“PILLAGE!” 

All those different outfits, flashing magic...even Pegasus eyesight had a hard time telling what was what. She’d swear their eyes were flashing pink if it wasn’t sunset. 

She whipped her head back behind cover before stray magic took it off. Being pinned down, impotent, made her angry. Being ignored by looters made her even angrier! 

But instead of making a break for it and getting turned into Equestria’s coolest looking used piñata, her anger burned colder and colder, crystallising her perception. Honing it, until the world around her began to slow to a crawl. 

It wasn’t, of course. She was just absorbing information faster. Processing faster.


***


Part of it was Wonderbolt training. 

Rainbow had always been first among equals of any group she’d been a part of, but to finally compete on her dream level she’d had to learn how to exist as part of a squad. A single component adding up to a unit, one creature with a million limbs, other cool zen stuff like that. It helped that ’Bolts were trained in search and rescue; you had to stick to a plan while adapting for everything about it going wrong at once. 

Spitfire hadn’t stuck Dash on any kinda anger management thing (yet) but had not-so-subtly advised her how to use it. How to turn an eruption into a thermal, use it to boost yourself, keep your limbs moving, give them a job to do and energy to see it through. 

The rest was something Dash was not going to think about and so naturally couldn’t stop obsessing over. 

A couple months before Tirek hit Equestria, the Master of Magnetism’s daughter herself had given Dash her own take. Whether Dash had wanted to hear it or not. And she really hadn’t. 

Quicksilver believed Rainbow Dash, one of the very few creatures in Equestria that could keep pace with her, was…well, a speedster. No duh, right? But naturally it had to be more complicated than that. Dash couldn’t just be awesome. Her body could crack the sound barrier, so why wouldn’t her brain work just as fast? 

Which meant her place might not be with her friends, who lived in good ol’ fashioned 24-hour time, but here, in bullet time. Maybe, Silver was arguing, she was built to save civilisation with these lightning-fast reflexes, making the quickest of decisions, and this was why she was so bad at actually living in it.

Maybe the reason Dash could think so clearly under fire was the reason she could barely stand waiting in line at the grocery store. Maybe her real life was here, dodging bullets, always in motion, constantly accelerating, and that was why living in everyone else’s was so hard: they could think only in first gear. She broke the sound barrier! When she was eight years old!  

And if all that was true, she’d either have to resign herself to living a snail’s pace existence to be with everypony she loved, or just…accelerate and forever leave them behind. 

Maybe no matter how many times she tapped into the Magic of Friendship her speed, one of the parts of herself she loved the most, would mean she’d always be alone, even among her dearest friends. 

She and AJ had dealt with it (sorta) during their trip to Genoshia. As far as Dash knew the farmgirl hadn’t told any of the others about it, maybe not even in their reports back to Princess Celestia, but Silver’s stupid spiel would always be a part of her now. And really? The worst part was that the other speedster might have been wrong. 

Maybe Dash’s brain wasn’t just designed to operate at high speed and struggled at a normal heartbeat. Maybe she could do all these amazing things and was still just an angry, dumb, depressed flight school drop out who’d never get her act together. 


***


All of this churned inside Rainbow Dash in the exact same instant she was thinking, Fire extinguisher… 

It was the Wonderbolt part of her, turning the disaster into something she could use. Also, the handy training she’d needed to bump up a grade, which had taught her city carts like this one carried fire extinguishers. Hay, this was the Horseshoe Torch’s home turf! Everypony should have at least one. 

So as various forces of evil were shooting at her, in between their “LOOT!”ing and “PILLAGE!”ing, and feeling simultaneously calm and furious, Rainbow Dash crept along the edge of her cover, probing for…bingo! Side panel! 

She hefted out an extinguisher and grinned ferally to herself at the discovery of a set of spare reins. Some stray shots knocked crates off the top of the cart’s load, raining around her as she wedged her new toy into position, trying to prime the nozzle and tie some reins around it without setting it off yet. 

“You guys still there?” she called when her mouth was free. 

“LOOT!”

“PILLAGE!”

“Just checking.” 

The reins now wound around the axel, forming a cradle. Dash carefully slipped the extinguisher in. If she’d angled it right, yanking on a loop around its trigger should set the extinguisher off hard enough to spin the wheels and turn the cart the way she needed it to, as the extinguisher swung from its own recoil. 

Good thing this was a proper cart, not one of those clunky trucks, or this wouldn’t be anywhere near crazy enough to work. Soarin’ had explained this kinda thing when he'd taken her along on a test drive of one of those sweet new E.U.P. jeeps, a sorta not date. (He’d done stuff like that ever since she graduated, half thanking her for that Rainbow Falls thing. He was awesome and sweet, and she’d need to figure out where that was going soon, guy deserved a definite answer.) 

More boxes tumbled towards her, making her yelp and trip backwards trying to avoid them. 

“LOOT!” bellowed a ninja, perched above her. They raised their weapon, a wicked looking scythe thingy Dash was too freaked to remember the name of right now. 

Her possibly mutant action brain kicked into an even higher gear. “What was the other thing?!” 

The blade froze almost exactly as it began its downward swing. The ninja’s glowing pink eyes blinked in the darkness of their mask. 

“PILLAGE?” 

“Thanks!” Dash said, yanking her right foreleg as hard as she could. She sprang to her hooves and lunged for the cart. 

The reins had tangled around her foreleg when she’d fallen. She’d planned to come flying in after the cart, but now her only hope of not being dragged behind it and smeared across 42nd Street was to hang onto it and hope she’d roll out of the wreckage okay. Couldn’t be that much worse than a Ponyville crater, right? 

Mercifully, the rein was yanked free from around her leg as the extinguisher kicked in, though the burn still made her clamp her eyes so tight shut she saw red flashes. 

Still in a stress extended slow-world, she managed to turn and make out the ninja face planting into the asphalt, even through the shaking cart jostling her vision. 

Almost in a dream, she realised her body had automatically adopted a kind of flight position, and let go of the cart, flapping her wings to remain airborne, dazed. Sounds of shattering wood and breaking glasses snapped her out of it.

Her plan had worked, kinda! The three shooters were sprawled like fallen nine-pins, and bonus; the cart had careened into a storefront, striking the stoop so hard it had overturned and pinned the looters inside. Different outfits were still throwing her, but looked like five of them, so plus all she’d KO’d just now that left six, right? 

“LOOT!” On her left. 

“PILLAGE!” Her right. Two, coming from different buildings, even she’d only be fast enough to nail one and if the other was armed…

The cart had winged a fire hydrant on its way past and it was ready to blow. Still piloted by instinct, Dash blurred into the space above it just as it burst, spinning. Her wings sent two jets of water slamming into her opponents, driving them back into the spaces they’d been looting and pillaging. Stolen goods spun through the air. 

Dash hit the ground, blurring her wings as fast as possible, hoping to shake off the cold, clinging weight of the water before the others realised she was here. 

“LOOT!” 

She spun to see an Inner Demon jumping out of…a garbage truck? 

This incongruity, plus the fact she’d missed that there were actually twenty hostiles, rattled her. Even if it was designed to operate in this kind of scenario, her brain could still be caught off guard and only generate responses so fast. 

The Demon tore one of their cufflinks off, raising it above their head. Black and white energy danced in their grip. Charging, Dash realised.

A familiar sound behind her, hooves upside somepony’s head. 

Another ninja and another puppet face soared over Dash’s head and crash landed on top of the Demon, sending the cufflink flying from their grasp. Dash spun, blinking as she registered a crimson coated, dark maned Eastern Pegasus wearing a white vest with some cool red markings, an honest-to-sun samurai sword clutched in her wings. 

“Crimson Wings?!” 

“Rainbow Dash?” The adventuring archaeologist blinked at the Element, nonplussed then pointed, panicking. “Agh! Grenade!” 

“What? OH!” 

The negatively charged cufflink had rolled towards them. It was humming. 

Still in her sprawled position, Dash managed to perform a weird sort of break-dancing soccer kick, sending it flying towards a streetlight. It rebounded, hurtling past a white suited goon and another in a tracksuit, into the broken store front they’d been leaving. 

A negative-black explosion sent them flying almost the length of the street. How many did that make? Dash desperately tried to keep count through the ringing in her ears. The driver made twenty, right, so two more down, two more left? What was Crimson Wings doing here? Wait, if she was here...

“Where’s whatseherface?” she demanded, pouncing to the martial artist’s side. 

“You mean Misty?” 

“Night, yeah!” 

They both flinched as a tracksuit came rolling to a stop by their hooves. 

“Right here,” the dark blue Unicorn with purple dreadlocks said, striding towards them. 

Her right foreleg, crystal to around her fibula, clicked like spurs in the shellshock silence as she walked. Sunset light glinted off an M.E.U.P. badge around her neck and her sharp eyes danced like knife edges as she looked Dash up and down.

Detective Night had received the dubious honour of acting as the Elements of Harmony’s official liaison with Manehattan’s local government. In ways Rainbow couldn’t articulate, Twilight becoming a princess had not made this relationship any better. The Big Apple was happy to have them, provided they didn’t actually…do anything? And since they were usually there because all of Equestria would explode otherwise, city hall had decided some schmuck should always tag along. They were even supposed to let said schmuck know they were coming, even if it was pleasure, not business! 

…which might explain Night’s general deal, since Dash was standing in the middle of a debris strew version of one of the city’s busiest streets, had crashed a cart, broken a hydrant and kinda blown up a building. Without letting the liaison know she was even in town. 

“It was like that when I got here?” Dash tried, pointing behind herself with a wingtip and jerking her head towards still billowing black smoke. 

Honestly, Night should be used to stuff like this. She and Crimson Wings ran around doing crazy kung fu stuff so much the streets called them—get this—the Daughters of the Dragon. Probably the whole reason the M.E.U.P. had given her the liaison job. 

And I’ve seen you in action. Don’t pretend you only use that crystal foreleg for a fancy back scratcher, sister. 

Not that she’d ever say that out loud. Not to Night’s face, anyway. 

“Pleasure as always, Rainbow Dash,” Misty said, voice that careful, neutral tone she always used when the Elements turned up in her office. “What brings you to our fair city?” 

“Hey, I’m a Wonderbolt now!” 

“I know.”

“I got E.U.P...stuff,” Dash continued lamely, faltering as she just kept walking into the wall of Night’s cool stare. “So this’s like…a department…thing, if y’think about it.”

“You’re saying this is legal.” It wasn’t a question. It was a pit with spikes at the bottom waiting to see how you’d walk into it. 

“Technically all those other times were too!” 

“So I should ask Spitfire for a statement, is what you’re saying?” 

“Filly, who hurt you?” 

Crimson Wings had been looking around, checking out the unconscious attackers. “Hey, is this everypony?” 

“PILLAGE!” 

A last dork in a snake suit came lunging out of an alley, swinging a piece of pipe. Misty simply held out her crystal forehoof pad first. Dash winced, feeling the CHU-DUNK of meathead against crystal deep in her bones. 

“I’m going to need a statement from somepony,” the detective said as if nothing had just happened. 

“Can it wait?” Dash wheedled. “I got plans tonight.” 

“Celestia save us all,” Night sighed, putting her head in her crystal hoof. 

“Wait, tonight?” Crimson asked. “Are you here for poker night?” 

“Yeah!” Dash grinned. “You coming?” 

“Totally! It’s somewhere on the East Side this year, you need directions?” 

“Wings,” Night growled. 

“Oh c’mon, why not interrogate somepony where there’s punch and dip for a change?” 

“Filly’s got a point,” Dash said cheerfully from where she was bending over, tugging at an A.I.M. beekeeper helmet. 

“Are you seriously removing evidence from a crime scene right in front of me?” Night demanded. 

“What?” Dash waved at the fallen with a wing, helmet in her hooves. “Not like you won’t still have two of each. At least!”

Night shut her eyes, hating how much sense that made. “Just tell me they’re not for your trophy case or something.”

“No,” Dash said a bit too quickly. “Look, we’ll probably wind up working this together, right? These losers are all from different gangs, yeah? And they just decided to loot and pillage together? If the princess doesn’t stick us on this it’ll be something else, so…” 

“Just promise you’ll bring us any leads,” Crimson said, handing her an Inner Demon’s mask. 

“Stop helping her!” Night snapped incredulously. 

They all turned at the sound of fire engine sirens, a few blocks away and closing. Night glanced at Crimson, who rolled her own eyes, then at Dash, who gave her one of her top ten most innocent little filly grins. To sap willpower, not engender trust, of course. 

“Just come by the office tomorrow,” Night sighed finally. “You wanna talk at the game, that’ll be off the record. Needs to be during office hours if it’s going to count.”

“I’ll even wear my uniform if ya like!” Dash smirked, winking. 

“And bring those masks back,” Night said firmly. 

“Still need directions?” Crimson asked, passing Dash the last few masks. 

“Nah, thanks,” Dash replied, stashing her new trophies in her wing pocket, apart from the helmet which she still had to carry. 

She reached down and used her teeth to tare off the insignia on one of the tracksuits’ shoulders. Night squeezed her eyes shut, massaging her temples with both hooves. 

“Sure?” Crimson asked. 

“Yeah, smallest of all possible worlds. It’s at Johnnycake Storm’s place. We got roped into setting up.”

“Oh Great Pony in the Sky,” both Daughters said in unison, Crimson grinning, Misty blanching. 

“Yeah, I’m only out here ’cause--”

Dash trailed off, turning with the partners to look up at a sudden commotion. A nearby roof shuddered from a loud impact. A brown and mustard blur shot over their heads, sailing down the block, followed by a red and blue one. 

“’Cause that,” Dash sighed. She took to the air, becoming a rainbow contrail against a growing patch of purple night-time horizon. “Yancy Street! Don’t be late! See ya!” 

“Don’t even think of following her,” Misty deadpanned as they watched the contrail arc, already fading, over a distant tenement. 

“Like I could keep up,” Crimson retorted. She side-eyed her partner and best friend before breaking out in a smirk. “Ten bits says they make somepony cry. Twenty one of them burns the place down.”

“Sucker’s bet,” Night snorted. She glared at the different factions littering the remains of 42nd Street. 

This could be the start of something. There’d been enough underworld rumbles it might have already started and the city was just noticing. And this was what it looked like if just one Element of Harmony got involved.


8


An underserving young couple were taking a romantic handsome cab ride through the city when some kind of quilted meteor bounced off the road in front of them, so hard the shockwaves sent their driver flying into their hooves like a Great Dane to a hippy. 

“C’mon Herbert,” Spider-Pony called, swinging behind, “it’s getting late, and that suit looks so cosy! Don’tcha just wanna give up and curl up?” 

“B-B-Back off, b-b-bug!” 

The reply was defiant but jittery for two reasons. Firstly, Sherbet ‘Herbert’ Shakes, AKA The Shaker, wore a suit of his own invention that converted his bio-magical field into a vibrating forcefield, which sometimes distorted his voice. Secondly, Herbert had developed a bit of a complex after being captured on what should have been the greatest safe cracking of his career, which manifested itself in various twitches and ticks, particularly when he was agitated. Which he almost always was. 

“Seriously man, just pull over.”

“Eat my d-d-dust!”

Spidey winced as the vibrating blur in front of him careened off two walls, leaving cracks, and narrowly avoided smashing into a water tower over a rooftop party. Getting drenched could be dangerous enough but if Herbert had knocked the tower over…

The Shaker was a pain in the tail like that. Poor old Herbert was technically C-list as Manehattan supers went; he really only wanted to pull off a big score, regaining his reputation and retiring to the Candy Cane Islands in one fell swoop. Apart from the odd hostage taking he didn’t particularly go out of his way to endanger civilians. 

Trouble was his vibrations were dangerous and increased with Herbert’s anxiety, so a simple theft turned into a travelling earthquake. In one of the most populated cities in Equestria.

“Alright,” Spidey called, arcing around the Bank of Equestria building, “at least tell me what the score is.” 

“Never!”

“Y’know I’ll just find out when I catch you!”

“Not this ti-i-i-ime!”   

The Shaker blurred as an office block loomed before them. Peter clenched his teeth with anxiety as the thief passed right through a window like a soap bubble merging with the surface of a river. Vibrating fast enough to phase through solid matter was a trick Shaker had developed a while back, and one of his more unintentionally dangerous. When Herbert did it right, as he mercifully seemed to have now, he ghosted clean through surfaces speedster style. 

There was always the distinct possibility he’d get it wrong, gruesomely trapped, or succeed but leave behind vibration powerful enough to cause an explosion. 

Office workers stared out at Spider-Pony as he raced along their windows, either boggling at him or the flickering ghost of a supervillain shooting between walls. 

He’d half expected Shaker to come up short before phasing out through the window and into a fifteen-story drop, but the thief surprised him by adopting an almost Pegasusian position. Twin shockwaves burst out of his hind gauntlets, shooting him into a continuous glide towards the next roof.  Spidey twisted around between web-lines, grimly registering cracks still racing across the windows behind them. No falling glass and they seemed steady, but they could also have burst backwards into the crowded office. 

“Awful lotta effort not to gloat,” he called, concentrating on his fresh swing. 

“G-g-got nothi-i-i-in’ to say to yo-o-ou!” 

“Supervillains these days! Whatever happened to dastardly schemes and intricate riddles? Audience participation! Now that took skill!” 

“I’m a pr-r-ro-o-ofessiona-a-al!”

“Feels like a waste of a good evening is all I’m sayin’…”  

They were passing over 42nd street now. Black smoke wafted up from one building. Peter wondered if it was on fire or if Herbert had broken more than the HVAC stuff when he bounced off its roof, but there were more than enough reasons to bring him down. 

‘Duh, so how comes ya don’t just web ’im up, Spidey?’ Because there’s nothing in a perpetually vibrating forcefield for webbing to adhere to. Can’t get near him ’til he discharges it either. He’s impossible to grab and if it’s going fast enough it’d be less messy sticking my hoof in a woodchipper.

Shaker had changed course, zigzagging across 42nd’s buildings in an attempt to lose him. Grand Central, Times Square, Bridelway, some of the city’s busiest places, and that was assuming they didn’t crash though a civilian airspace on the way. Time to get that field down. 

“You could at least take a shot at me!” he called, vaulting over a billboard to avoid losing momentum. “It’s getting boring back here! Y’know, ‘cause ya boring?”

“D-d-d-don’t te-e-e-empt me-e!” 

“Ooh, see, now I gotta!” 

Spidey felt the bravado gutter inside him as the chase took them around another building. He could see Grand Central in the distance. They’d stuck to the rooftops for the most part, but the streets below would be packed with traffic and pedestrians. All it would take would be one gap between buildings too big for Shaker to clear...

“Herbert!” he called. 

Contrary to popular belief he tended to use the Shaker’s first name in an attempt to calm him down, not to mock him. Usually. 

“Herbert!” he repeated. “Herbert! Herbert! Herrrrrbeeeert!” 

The Shaker spun mid-leap, levelling his forehooves, which blurred as he concentrated his vibrations into his gauntlets. “Sh-sh-sh-u-u-ut UP-P-P!” 

A blast of concentrated shockwaves fired out of his hooves. Spidey twisted to the left, avoiding it and praying it didn’t hit any buildings behind him. The Shaker was more in focus and moving slower, the blast having temporarily drained his field. A few more like that and he’d slow enough to be webbed up. 

“That was j-j-just a warni-i-in’ sho-o-ot!” the thief called. Still en-route to the terminal…

A sudden gust just over his shoulder. For a second, Spidey wondered if the shockwaves had doubled back or something. 

“This is what’s taking so long?” an unimpressed sounding blur asked on his right. 

“Rainbow Dash?!” Spider-Pony almost missed grabbing his freshly spun web-line. 

“Well it ain’t Starswirl the Bearded.” She winked at him before shooting ahead to pull alongside the startled Shaker. “No, seriously, what am I looking at?

The Shaker let out a warbling yelp of surprise and veered into a hard left. He found the Pegasus waiting for him just above the roof he was about to land on and twisted so he could bounce off a chimney in the opposite direction. Where she was waiting in the same pose, peering at him curiously over the helmet in her hooves.

“You Manehattanites, always in a rush,” she grinned. “I like it!” 

The Shaker pinballed around a few more rooftops like an uncertain volleyball, stopping dead each time as Rainbow Dash shot in front of him over and over again. Spidey perched on a nearby cornice, shaking his head and wondering if it would’ve been better or worse if it had been Pinkie Pie. 

“Wh-h-ho-o-o…?!” Shaker demanded. 

“Your friendly neighbourhood Rainbow Dash! Element of Loyalty and (reserve) Wonderbolt, at your service!” She flexed, simultaneously adopting an Alas,-Poor-Yorick pose with her A.I.M. helmet. “Which means when I say pull over, you pull over.”

“W-wonder-r-r…?!” 

Shaker reared up, firing another blast. Dash flung herself back into the air, almost outracing her own startled yelp. The thief threw his head down and blasted off through the empty space she left, mercifully headed off 42nd Street. 

“Cranky,” Dash scowled as Spidey swung past in pursuit. 

“Jittery,” the Web-Head corrected. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Looking for you.” 

“Oh. If Twilight’s worried--”

“Twilight wants you to do your share, man,” Dash cut him off, pulling alongside. “It’s almost party time and you left us doing all the hard stuff!” 

“I said I was going on patrol after work!” 

“Convenient!” 

“Can we not…?” Spidey gestured ahead of them. 

An art deco tower block was getting closer. As the Shaker rocketed over it, just missing the tip of its pointed spire, his pursuers casually twisted to pass through circular gaps in the gilding.  Shaker released two more blasts for each of them, both avoided. With a frustrated, petulant whine he pinballed off a wall, aiming for an upcoming construction site. 

“Aww no,” Spidey moaned. “He’s gonna try and make a stand. We can’t let him reach that scaffolding!” 

“How come?” Dash squinted. “Quitting time. No workers.” 

“Because if he doesn’t shake the whole thing apart his vibes can accelerate the structure of those girders to the point they might explode!” 

“Biggie,” Dash admitted. “Alright, gimme a sec.” 

“Wait!” Spidey cried but he was talking to a rushing, fading rainbow contrail. 


***


As the Shaker began a determined, downward plummet towards the edge of the site, a rainbow blur arced into his flight path, planting a yellow beekeeper-esque helmet over his head. 

Shakes let out a muffled squeal, flailing so much he turned end over end twice, meaning when he splashed down into a cement mixer he did it hind-hooves first, driving himself into the drum so deep only his helmeted head was visible. His vibrations kickstarted the mixer. Spidey landed on a fence to a symphony of squelching and muffled shrieks as it began to spin so hard its panel started smoking. 

Rainbow Dash dropped into a casual hover beside the mixer and delivered an even more causal kick to the side of the drum. The Shaker was disgorged like a beaching whale, splattering to the dirt in a shoulder high cocoon of wet cement. 

“No need to thank me,” Dash trilled, admiring her left wing’s tips. 

“No problem,” Spidey muttered, flipping to land at the groaning thief’s side. “You get whatever he stole’s probably covered in this stuff, right? Assuming it’s still in one piece, even!” 

“Not like it’d be cool for you to remove evidence from a crime scene anyway!” Dash retorted quickly. “In front of a Wonderbolt, no less!” 

“Reserve,” Spidey mimicked, purely out of near-sibling spite. He hefted the A.I.M. helmet, revealing the sagging Shaker’s masked head. “You good, Herbert?”

“hAtE yOu BoOoOoTh…” 

“Cool.” Spidey turned the helmet around, squinting at it then at Dash. “Do I wanna know why you’re carrying this?”

“Figured maybe you would,” Dash said, spreading her wing to show a laundry line of faction masks and insignias. 

Spidey’s lenses widened. He leaned in to better peer at the collection. “How long were you looking for me?”

“Not always about you, man. Relax, you’ve still got plenty of these losers to beat up! Just thought you’d wanna know I got these at the same robbery on 42nd.”

“Wait, these guys? All together?”

“Yeah, figured that’d be weird.”

“Very.” Peter indicated one of the puppet masks and a swatch of tracksuit. “That’s a Tartarus Gate guard mask and that’s the logo for the…well, their real name’s probably something Slavic but we just call them the Tracksuit Draculas. They do not run in the same circles.” 

Dash nodded. “I clocked A.I.M. and those Inner Demon guys too.”

“Yeah? What were they all doing?”

“Looting and pillaging mostly.” 

“Huh?”

They both looked up at the sound of approaching sirens. 

“We’ve got enough questions for tonight,” Dash decided. 

“Yeah, sure,” Spidey agreed. “Just gimme a minute.” 

He fired a web-line from his tail, expertly looping it around a girder and snagging the still moaning Shaker’s cocoon. 

“You sure that’s—?” Dash began, too late. 

Spidey hauled, then yelped as dobs of still wet cement rained down from the Shaker-kabob he’d inadvertently suspended over himself. He looked like a gargoyle had just done something unfortunate and gastrointestinal to him. “Aww man, my suit!” 

“Haaaaa…” bleated the woozy Shaker. 

“Oh shut up, Herbert.” 

“Well I’m having a fun night so far,” Dash grinned. “But not enough to get that stuff all over my hooves. We got a party to get to!” 

“What do you mean all over your—?” Spidey’s lenses went wide again as she gripped his tail. “What’re you—?!” 

“Getting you there in time, Spider-ella!” Dash grinned. “You shall go to the ball!” 

“Don’t you even think--” Spidey began and the rest was lost in a rush as he was dragged into the darkening sky behind a rainbow contrail.


9


“Can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Aurora giggled drunkenly. 

“Mmm?” Johnny had been looking up at the Statue of Destiny, towering over them, purple spreading out from around its shoulders like a pair of wings. 

“You know! Going up…” Aurora trailed off, voice dropping to a reverent whisper as she indicated the Statue’s crown with her head. “Up there!” 

“Sure you don’t wanna fly it?” Johnny smirked, asking for the fourth time since they set hoof on the island. 

“For the last time, no! So there’s a line, so what! It’s not like the sun won’t still be setting by the time we’re there!” 

“It’s the line I’m worried about.” Johnny indicated it with his head, a serpent of baseball caps, scarves, Equestrian flags, excited tourists, moon-eyed other couples and photography students realising this might not be as easy an A as they’d first thought. “You’re shaking a lot. Worried you’re gonna take someone out.” 

“I’ll work it off beating you in the race up the stairs, then.”

“You’re not supposed to run on those. There’s a sign and everything.” 

She blinked at him. “Did you get hit by some sort of opposite day ray?”

“What?” Johnny snickered. “No. Those aren’t r--” He thought about it. “No, I didn’t get hit by one of those.” 

“So we’re totally ignoring the sign, yeah?” Her grin radiated the mischievous malevolence only the truly innocent possess. 

“That’s a question?” 


***


The laughter over this sustained them through the rest of the wait, though being behind the last party in front of them amplified the school foal tension, the way being mildly denied something always does. Finally, the last Gotland ticket was stamped, and they could approach an elderly Pegasus at the folding desk. 

“Ah, Mr. Storm,” she greeted, smiling wryly but warmly. 

“Evening, Ms. Keeper,” Johnny smiled back. “Aurora, meet the best caretaker in Manehattan.” 

“Oh, that reminds me,” the mare said as Aurora waved uncertainly. “The crown, we’re doing maintenance.” 

“What?” Aurora half whined. 

“So you’ll need these.” Ms. Keeper’s smile became crafty as she slid them a pair of maintenance passes. 

Aurora spun to Johnny in realisation. He shrugged, unable to keep a smirk off his face. “Toldja. Best caretaker.” 

“Although you could tidy up a bit, while you’re there,” she called as they trotted past the checkpoint. Well, more Johnny power trotting to keep from being dragged along by Aurora’s excited grip on his foreleg. 

“You’re the best,” she grinned as they weaved through the crowds, passing into the archway in the Statue’s base. 

“Takes one to know one.” 

They stopped, craning to look up at the ribbon of staircase weaving up into the monument. Even through they could see balconies and the shadows of the top, it felt like the stairs should go on forever. A silent, reverent yawn vibrated from their bones. 

Urban psycho-whatever-y’call-’em, Johnny thought. Significance. Right place. The right pony.  

He managed to turn his head to look at Aurora, feeling like it should have been harder. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he said simply, the statue, the atmosphere, everything make his voice sound smaller than it really was. “Not if you don’t want to.”

The pony calling herself Aurora Sheen looked at him, her eyes glinting liquidly in light from safety lanterns ringing the stairway, lending an even more temple like feeling to standing inside the Statue. Then her eyes flicked to something behind them.

Johnny looked, realising he was inadvertently standing in front of the stairs by the entrance and a ‘BE AWARE-MAINTENANCE’ sign with dustpan and wrench logos.

While a few ponies were hanging out on the lowest balcony, snapping pictures and laughing, that seemed to be as far as visitors could get. Another, much larger and imposing maintenance sign was mounted on stilts over the stairs above it, sporting hardhat logos as well as the other sort. 

“Let’s do this,” Aurora grinned. 

“Alrigthy then,” Johnny said quietly, trying to smile. 

“And no flying,” Aurora added as they trotted carefully away from the small throng in the lobby. 

“Aww what?!” Johnny legitimately whined. 

He got his composure back in time to flash Ms. Keeper’s passes at the stone-faced guards, who nodded them through. They lasted one twist of the stairs before exchanging glances, cracking up, and bursting into clumsy gallops, racing giddily up a piece of Manehattan history. 


***


“I win!” Aurora’s voice echoed triumphantly from the top, a few minutes later. 

“Tha-whoooogh...tha’s what bein’ gallant gets ya…” Johnny wheezed, limping up the last few steps. 

Aurora stuck her head around the railings. “You alright? C’mon, you’re missing it!”

“Alright, alright,” Johnny chuckled, finally making it. 

He looked around the space, rejuvenated by a sudden burst of salt smelling air and minty taste from altitude. Manehattan’s mismatched sunset light glowed through the slits in Lady Destiny’s crown, throwing incredible shades and shadows across the inside of her head like a stained-glass storm. 

Aurora was almost perched on the central slit, a slightly rainbow accented shadow against the dancing lights of the city’s tower blocks. Gull calls filled the air, diluted by distance just enough to add to the atmosphere, not detract. 

“Can I deliver, or can I deliver?” Johnny smarmed, trotting up. 

“Oh Johnny,” Aurora breathed. “Johnny, it’s perfect! Don’t you want to see?!”

“View’s fine from where I’m standing,” he assured. 

Aurora turned to shoot him a Hardy-Har-Har, But-We’re-Daring-So-It’s-Acceptable look for a weak-willed second she could take of not looking at the city. Johnny couldn’t blame her, even after years of honing his jaded local swagger. It was what the basic and elderly referred to as 'Sure somethin’.' 

A wall of landmarks and glass towers, looming over smaller buildings to give you a sense of how truly high up you were, inviting glints in windows and lengthening, almost more inviting shadows between structures. One of the most iconic cities in Equestria, maybe the world, incongruously reduced to a living diorama. But you could have that during the day. 

It was sunset where the magic of this moment was coming from. 


***


The sky above Manehattan danced, churned, blossomed, all at once as the light of sunset entered city limits and ran into the bipolar threshing machine of its background magic. Enough reds, golds and oranges bruising the air to feel like the sky had caught fire, with enough slivers of dark blue and purple to sooth, shimmering over less resistant districts like underwater light on the walls of an underground cave. 

The sky around the island shifted from blue to purple, stars sheeting across it as night finally settled, but the air over the city wasn’t done yet. Its colours stayed even as various blocks began to go dark, bejewelled by lighting windows, making it seem as if Manehattan were haloed or under a dome. 

It was like watching rain against a window, as if each drop let you look into a totally different universe. 


***


“Oh Johnny,” Aurora whispered again. 

Johnny looked at the back of her head, feeling absolute certainty well up inside him along with shadows falling across his face. It was her. 

Okay, okay, he’d known that. But this was happening. Finally happening. This moment. It was real. 

Day finally died over Manehttan, a few rebellious red patches of sky becoming purple and merging with the deep blue engulfing the city. 

“I’ve never seen the city like this,” Aurora breathed, turning to grin at him.

“Yeah you have,” Johnny retorted. 

She blinked. “What?”

She flinched as he burst into flames. He hovered off the floor and spun, weaving a wall of flame over the stairway entrance. He spun back to face her and she actually cried out in shock as she raised both his hooves to fire…not at her. Two streaks of flame lanced out through the slits on the right and left of the one she’d been using to watch the inferno. 

They simultaneously combined and burst, forming a flame construct. A giant version of the word GO.

“What?” Aurora asked, blinking incredulously. She was so startled her voice changed slightly, though there was a certain ‘Oh come on/Seriously?’ quality to both of them.  

Shadows flitted out Lady Destiny’s torch, forming an aerial barricade. Wonderbolts! More shapes rocketed up from down below, a few tourists lead by…

Aurora blinked in disbelief. Ms. Keeper’s face stayed grim, even as she ran a hoof across it and eradicated some elaborate makeup, revealing which wrinkles on her experienced face were real. With the same gravitas she whipped off her old lady wig and let the breeze carrying it into oblivion, revealing a clipped military cut.

“Alright, Lyja,” the Horseshoe Torch said, “how’re we doing this?” 


To be Continued 

> Two Flare (3)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


9


“We’ve got to put it somewhere,” Rarity insisted, unable to keep the glee out of her voice. 

“It’s…” Twilight struggled for a good word. A good Rarity specific word. “It’s improprietous!” 

“Gesundheit,” Applejack said in passing because Dash wasn’t back yet. 

Twilight realised she’d made a terrible mistake as scandalous lights danced in Rarity’s eyes. 

“So would leaving all this clutter for our guests to trip over, darling.” 

“They’re not our guests!” Twilight insisted, then pounced on a new line of hoof-wringing. “And they’re not our bedrooms!” 

“Well,” Rarity said sweetly, and Twilight hated that she couldn’t tell whether the fashionista had been saving this or just ad-libbed, “an argument could be made that you have, shall we say, exclusive access to--”

“Alright, enough teasin’,” Applejack declared, trotting back over with a trash bag on her back. “Rarity’s got a point, Twi. We gotta make some space an’ the guys’ rooms’ve got closets.”

Twilight surveyed 616B Yancy Street’s living room. Peter and Johnny had confided a suspicion the Thing had intended to use the apartment, built with millions he’d lucked into the year before last, as a sort of field HQ for visiting his old stomping grounds. You could see how they’d get that idea from just how wide the living room was, even by the standards of Manehattan open planning.  

Grim Skies’ transformation had turned an already well-built Pegasus, a breed that naturally inclined towards maximum space even on the smallest cloud clusters, twice the size of Big Macintosh. 616B seemed to take up most of the top floor of its apartment building, and that was before you included the kitchen, bathroom and closet. 

Very probably enough space for a moving boulder to feel comfortable in his own skin. Certainly enough for its current occupants to have the odd movie night with six mares and a dragon, never mind host a poker tournament. Under Pinkie’s guidance they’d already managed to convert half the living room into a poker themed party space, with black, white, red and gold decorations. 

The problem was Spider-Pony and the Horseshoe Torch hadn’t used their space particularly well, filling it with assorted seats, tables, shelves and seemingly random props. In the ‘Eh, I’ll pick that up later,’ style of 20-something bachelors everywhere if they couldn’t already reach whatever they wanted, even by banging their hind hooves on a table until it bounced into mouth range, they’d write it off for at least a month until happening on it in passing. 

This was why Pinkie had four shelving units to push together and cover with drapes for a buffet table, and why everything that had covered those shelves was now in bulging trash bags by the entertainment centre, with even more clusters of conversation pieces stretching past it. And naturally they couldn’t just use the hall closet because the boys had already jammed that full of Discord knows what. 

“It’s only for a couple hours,” Applejack assured.

“We could always put it through the portal,” Spike suggested, tapping a piece of hardwood floor he was sweeping. “Y’know, stash it at our place.”

Twilight’s nostrils flared. “Oh no. They’ve taken up our time, the hay they’re eating up our space as well.”

Applejack gave Spike a congratulatory wink.

“Jolly good,” Rarity breezed, reaching for the door on the left. A violet telekinetic field yanked her hoof off course. 

“Johnny’s first,” Twilight said a bit too quickly, horn glowing, “it’s bigger.”


***


And it was.

Fluttershy and Pinkie joined Spike and the other three Elements to stare through the humble doorway, drawn by the magnetic pull of mystery and morbid curiosity. Afterall Johnnycake Storm was such a…Johnnycake Storm that you just had to see his natural habitat once it occurred to you such a singular entity had one. 

Rarity was the least interested, knowing the Torch well enough by now to expect which of her biases were about to be confirmed. Rainbow Dash would probably have been even more uninterested if she’d been there. She’d been intimately familiar with the subject, after all. If pressed the others would have given overlapping answers along the lines of ‘basically a church to himself.’ 

They weren’t entirely right or wrong. 

Because of 616B’s Thing-esque proportions Johnny’s room was long and wide enough to give the feeling of stepping into a 1st-class train compartment, an effect aided by his choice of burgundy wallpaper. He’d strategically cordoned his space into sectors, marking each with different coloured drapes, adding an equally fitting movie star’s dressing room quality. 

Applejack indicated Johnny’s bed with her head. “Anypony surprised?”

“No,” everypony but Fluttershy said in time with Pinkie’s, “Nope!” 

Johnny’s bed, an almost Escher like shape at the back of the room that seemed simultaneously further away and far too close, was a lavish Canterlot Castle-esque four poster number. It looked like it could either be used as a flotation device by a family of six, and their little dog too, or have wheels and armour plating bolted onto it and turned into a siege engine for the Whacky Races. 

“Who was thinkin’ race kart bed?” AJ asked. 

“I was thinking some kind of sensory deprivation tank, honestly,” Twilight said. 

“Isn’t it though?” Rarity asked, gesturing to the entire room. “Really? When you think about it?” 

“He doesn’t have as many plants as I’d’ve thought,” Fluttershy said, figuring she may as well get into the spirit of the thing now that she’d violated somepony’s privacy and was as condemned to The Bad Pony Place as she was likely to get. 

The left side’s sectors consisted of a queen-sized bureau that could’ve done for three minotaurs, a stretch of wall that seemed to serve as a kind of trophy case, and an ornate wardrobe large enough to serve as a carriage. 

While Johnny’s bureau wasn’t a stain glass window, enough professional photoshoot equipment lined either side of it to put you in mind of a televangelist. Applejack and Twilight glanced at each other, both praying to the Great Pony in the Sky they’d never learn where Johnny’d found this stuff.

“What do we think that’s for?” Spike asked, pointing to a final sector sandwiched between a door next to the wardrobe and the left of Johnny’s four poster. It looked almost like a window into some sort of café dimension, with two plush armchairs and a table loaded with cups and machinery. Oh, and a globe of the world, naturally. Why not. 

“Date nook?” Twilight asked blandly, looking between Rarity and Applejack. 

“Date nook,” they agreed, nodding in unimpressed sync. Spike blushed. 

“Oh, I recognize the thingy on the left from Discord’s catalogues!” Fluttershy said, oblivious to how this concept made everypony stare at her. “That’s one of those deluxe Pranceisian coffee makers. I like those, they use ethically sourced beans. Don’t know about the other one, though.”

Pinkie zipped over to said other one, gasping. “An Istallion gelato engine! They say the ancient masters built these on the lower tiers of the Matterhorn for that extra minty taste and it comes with the super-secret flavour only rich ponies know about!”

The group watched in horror as she grabbed one of the taps, twisted her head upside down with a near Derpy expression, and unhinged her jaw. “Pinkie, no!” Rarity snapped firmly. “You know exactly where that’s been!” 

“Aww,” Pinkie whined as Twilight teleported her back to the group, but she didn’t remain disappointed for long, zipping to the new distraction of Johnny’s bureau. “Think that mirror’s magic?” 

“Why would it be?” Twilight asked. 

“I dunno. It’s just so big!” 

“So he can have all his ego in view,” Rarity said with perfect timing. She touched up her own mane as the group snickered. 

“’Least he’s safety conscious,” Applejack noted, indicating two fire extinguishers, one bolted to either side of the swivel chair Johnny used to admire his reflection. “Y’can smell so much product in the air the whole block’d probably go up if he sneezed wrong.” 

“There’s three more out in the living room,” Spike said, looking a smidge self-conscious.

Rarity stopped considering her hair to eye a selection of photos Johnny had taped to his mirror. Mostly publicity photos of himself, naturally, but a few family and friends, even one of him and Crystal. She didn’t look at that one for too long, concentrating instead on the still unfolding sunset reflected from the window behind them.

“You’ve got to hand it to him, he’s got a decent effect going here,” she said turning to properly admire it.  

The others also turned to the right side of the room, fully prepared to admit he had. Johnny’s right hoof sectors, starting directly across from his bureau, consisted of a large window that was probably his own private launching area given its size and scenic view of Manehattan, another trophy display, and what looked like more of a ‘Me Time’ nook. 

Its chair and table were the kind a normal pony would own, sporting a music player and headphones. It all would've been quite humble if not for a large mirror reminding you who’s room this was. 

A nearby spinner rack contained Johnny’s record collection. It was oddly easy to imagine him flopping into the simple chair after a hard day’s flight and just zoning out to…Applejack trotted up and flipped through some of the albums on display, nodding occasionally. 

“Not bad,” she concluded, then craned to see something on the other side of the rack. “Huh…”

The Horseshoe Torch practiced guitar in his down/non-preening time, apparently. Proper acoustic too, like her own back in Ponyville, not a double barrel, multi nitro tubed, electro-Asgardian tryhard number like she’d have figured. 

“Didn’t know he played,” she said simply. 

“He calls it playing,” Rarity retorted, but it was arbitrary and lacking venom. 

“So are we just pawing through Johnny’s things now…?” Fluttershy asked. 

“I’m looking for the best place to dump this stuff,” Twilight said primly, jolting the trash bag on her back. She resumed searching. 

Even with Johnny’s four-poster and a large, futuristic looking steamer trunk he’d placed at the foot of it, there was still enough space for all five of them to easily mill about. Johnny’s solution to having a big empty carpet was to place a large rug reproduction of the Equestrian flag in the middle of it. Twilight could easily imagine him gaming it to either score patriot/hipster points with different kinds of visitors to his date nook. 

So plenty of space, but she couldn’t tell where to dump the contents of the living room where it would most hurt. 

“Look!” Pinkie snickered pointing at some toy karts scattered across the bureau and here and there across the room. The others stared uncomprehendingly at her. “Hot Wheels ™!” 

Spike and Fluttershy were the only ones to laugh, though the others did smile. 

Johnny’s plus-sized bureau seemed to be his main operating hub during his down time. It was covered not just with an expected assortment of mane and coat care products, but wrenches and screwdrivers, novelty joke items, hairdryers, and an unsettling row of blank, doll-like beautician’s training heads. 

No literature, Twilight noted, or at least not much. And she had to begrudgingly admire how what she could see liberally scattered across the Torch’s room was relevant to his fields: mostly engineering and automotive magazines. Even—and this did impress her—an odd copy of the Planetary guide. 

Part of what put more ticks in the Thing’s Headquarters column was the amount of left side wall still available between Johnny’s bureau and his wardrobe. He’d filled said space with a row of flags from different nations the Fantastic Family had presumably visited (Fluttershy recognised one for Wakanda) and a sort of display he’d made by stacking Lucite cubes on top of each other, all balanced on a large, plush piece of furniture that looked like it might’ve been his bureau’s original seat. 

It was wide enough for the cubes to form a four-tiered pyramid, one cube atop the whole pile just slightly shy of bumping into a horsehead wall lamp Johnny had rigged to cast flattering radiance onto his collected glory. Rarity scrutinized it, then grinned. 

“Oh, that’s clever,” she smirked,” beckoning the others closer. “Let’s see… Fluttershy, come here a moment, you’ve got the best eyes, no offence to anypony.”

“Alright,” Fluttershy said, ever polite, and tried to draw as close as Rarity’s beckoning hoof seemed to want. 

“See it yet?” the Unicorn asked eagerly. 

“See what?” Fluttershy leaned in closer to the mirrored surface of a row of cubes, then drew back in terror. “Agh! What’s that?!”

“…your reflection, darling.” 

“Oh.” 

“But does everypony get the idea?” Rarity grinned. 

“So he can lookit his trophies an’ himself at the same time,” Applejack said, a hint of terrified admiration in her voice. 

“Yeees,” Rarity hissed with savage delight. 

“What is all this stuff anyway?” Spike asked, not liking all this fashionista-based Johnny approval, and tapped a curious talon against a cube as if to demonstrate how low grade the resultant harmonics were. 

“Oh, search me,” Rarity said. “I suspect getting misguided parties to ask is the idea. I don’t really think about that side of Johnny’s life. We’ve got enough of that sort of thing ourselves, wouldn’t everypony agree?” 

“Is that one loaded?” Fluttershy asked, backing away from a cube containing a Marvin the Martian-esque pistol. 

“That’d be just like ol’ sparky,” AJ said. “Make sure this stuff looks cool first, ask if it’s dangerous later.”

“I’m sure a lot of it’s important to him,” Twilight said diplomatically. 

She was thinking of and looking straight at the item at the top of the pyramid, a black device made up of dynamic curves and circle patterns that looked as if it could either serve as a hairclip, a lethal boomerang, or both. 


***


She recognised it as a communicator belonging to her recent friend Crystal of the Unknowns, one she’d given to Johnny at the end of their relationship so he could “keep in touch”, both perhaps hoping it might rekindle something. 

Twilight had repaired it for Johnny during Queen Chrysalis’ attempted takeover of the Unknown’s capital colony, coming to understand how important the youngest of Attilan’s royal family was to the hero as they’d chatted while making their way out of the sewers. 

Crystal’s radio (or whatever such an advanced piece of machinery really was) held a strange kind of emotional significance for Twilight as well: during Chrysalis’ attack she and Peter had been in the middle of a terrible…spat, she supposed, brought about by his paranoia after she’d made the mistake of boasting about visiting the Cauldron, Canterlot’s obligatory Bad News neighbourhood, when she was only a little filly. 

He’d explained it as a mix of shock at how Twilight’s involvement in “the business” had begun that soon and, really, a lifetime of consequences that had hung over his loved ones whenever his two worlds had collided. 

Given what she’d heard of the Goat Goblin she could see why his mind had gone there, but she hadn’t particularly appreciated being reminded of the scolding she’d gotten from Celestia and her parents when Shining ratted her out. (He’d had to scrub the academy toilets for two weeks straight for his own truancy, but whatever.) 

She especially hadn’t appreciated the way Spider-Pony had suddenly started attaching himself to every Element of Harmony mission, questioning her every decision when he wasn’t hurling himself protectively in front of her at every stray gust of wind. 

Looking at Crystal’s device didn’t just bring back all those awful feelings of her first fight with Peter, but a kind of guilt. 

She and Peter had reconciled, defeating Chrysalis with the power of love. He’d accepted her life was as intense, if not more so, than his own and given her the space and trust she needed. She’d accepted that a relationship wasn’t just long nuzzles in the summer sun and that both partners, especially ones that lived the kind of lives they did, had to balance not just fear but frustration. And still respect each other’s feelings and boundaries, a valuable insight once they’d begun to reconcile. 

In short, she and Peter? Back together and actually kind of stronger for falling out. 

Crystal and Johnny? Broke up again. Or never started. Re-started. Whatever, what was she, Cadence? 

Twilight had seen Crystal a few times since then and it seemed she and Johnny were okay, though back to giving each other a lot of space. Crystal seemed happy to be the face of Attilan, forging secret pacts with Equestria to give her un-mutated people a place to live among ponies and perhaps finding her own way in the world. 

She also didn’t seem to blame Twilight for still having her relationship with perhaps her perfect pony partner while Crystal and Johnny were back to ‘just good friends’, so that was nice. 


***


Applejack whistled suddenly, snapping Twilight out of it. The workhorse had trotted over to inspect the right-side trophies and seemed to find them infinitely more engaging. 

“Well ring my bell and call me a TKO! That ball there, that’s Dream Shake’s autograph! An’ is that…? It is! Blind Pass’ goggles! Fadeaway’s vest! Oh shoot, he’s actually got the whole New Yolk Nets’ shoes! They’re all autographed! Agh! An’ he’s even in that photo with ’em!” 

Yeah, Johnny’s other trophies were all sports memorabilia, apparently. Autographed memorabilia, which Twilight, Rarity and Fluttershy could understand on an abstract level. 

“Oh my stars and garters,” Pinkie whispered, her forehooves balanced reverently on the simple coffee table Johnny used for this display, “those’re Laugh-a-Lympics shirts. The two teams that weren’t rotten! Lookit that penponyship!” 

“Dash has gotta see this,” Applejack breathed. She violently stepped back from Johnny’s cubes. “No, that’d be awful, she’d hate this ’cause she’d love it. She’d hate Johnny for havin’ it. Hay, I hate ’im for havin’ it.”

“Have we tried his wardrobe yet?” Twilight asked, trying to get back on track. She squinted at its doors. “Maybe not, it’s locked.”

“Yes but no,” Rarity smiled and beckoned her closer. She held up a hoof to stop Twilight reaching for the sturdy looking magical lock, identical to the one fastened to Johnny’s high-tech steamer trunk. 

“Look at it,” she explained. “Really look.”

“Looks like a lock,” Applejack said simply. “’Cause it’s a lock.” 

“No, darling,” Rarity said, savouring the reveal, “it’s a burglar alarm.”  

Twilight And Pinkie blinked at her as Fluttershy risked a peek between them. “Oh,” she realised. “I think I see. The bolt’s not…?”

“Exactly!” Rarity grinned, casually swinging the door back and forth. “I’ve used it myself now and then. Elegant in its simplicity. One simply attaches it via magic magnet but leaves the bolt, as Fluttershy so quickly deduced, a few easily overlooked but vital inches out of its hole! Should any nefarious types riffle through your clothes—”

“Why?” Applejack asked.

“—they will either be deterred by the sight of your steadfast companion or foolishly poke at it in an attempt to pick it, thus snapping the bolt fast! Not only have you thwarted them, you’ve tricked them into leaving evidence of their crime! Ha HA!” 

“So if y’can open a door ya weren’t robbed,” Applejack persisted flatly “,but if y’can’t ya still weren’t?”

“Let other ponies have nice things, Jackie.” 

“So it’s open,” Twilight said firmly, telekinetically gathering their trash bags. “Great.” 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, darling.” Rarity demonstrably swung Johnny’s wardrobe wide with her own magic. They all flinched as magic compartments in the door interiors swung open, spreading out two more racks of transparent garment bags. 

She’d called it. What wasn’t Johnny’s legion upon legion of suits, shirts and saddles for all seasons was a row of toolboxes or shelves stuffed with spare FF utility collars and mane-care products. A contortionist flea couldn’t have squeezed between those racks. 

“His bed?” Spike suggested. 

Twilight glanced at the four-poster. It was tempting but…

Johnny hadn’t finished college. That wasn’t as big a deal to her as it would have been during her awkward early Ponyville days, but sometimes he’d be so cool and together and then he’d say something, and you’d remember this 24-year-old stallion who could light himself on fire was probably never going back to ESU for that engineering degree. 

So the space over Johnny’s pillows lacked a diploma. 

What it did have, proudly framed under glass in a way that felt like more than just a conversation piece, (not that Johnny wouldn’t take full advantage) were certificates letting anypony who saw them know Tropical Johnnycake Storm was a certified volunteer fire fighter, a reserve E.U.P. search and rescue pony, a member of the explorers guild of Equestria, and a proud graduate of Cloudsdale Flight School.

And because he was Johnnycake Storm between these four plaques was an A2 photo of himself, smirking and with the phrase ‘WINNERS ARE FOR WINNERS’. Whatever that meant. 

“Not the bed,” Twilight decided. 

“Wouldn’t hurt nearly enough,” Rarity said. Twilight gave her a grateful smile. 

“Then that just leaves…” Fluttershy trailed off as they all turned to take in the two doors in the wall right and left of Johnny’s bed. 


***


Both featured road crossing STOP signs, with post-it notes stuck on. ‘This means YOU, Webs,’ and ‘Rarity—eh, be gentle.’

Johnny had actually done this twice. Which implied both doors may serve the same purpose and didn’t inspire confidence. 

“On three,” Twilight said as Spike and Fluttershy tried to hide behind her on the left. 

“Bless,” Rarity said flatly, swinging the right one wide. Applejack gave Twilight a ‘what didja expect’ look as she followed a merrily bouncing Pinkie inside. 

Twilight sighed and opened hers. Mercifully it was another closet, presumably Thing sized but feeling crammed because Johnny had turned it into a walk-in wardrobe. What, you expected the one outside to be enough? What was he, poor? 

“It’s quite cozy,” Fluttershy ventured, looking around at the various temple like shelves. “Like a casual department store.” 

“How many suits does one guy need?” Spike muttered. 

“I don’t think that’s all he uses this for,” Fluttershy said, indicating a regular pony sized desk snuggly placed between two almost storefront sized rows of suits. It looked professional and had a mirror, even though there was already one in the opposite wall. 

Twilight trotted up to the desk and squinted at the contents. More tools and toy karts, but also a Breightona 300 mug full of quills and two treys overflowing with mail, presumably from a large sack next to the chair. One trey’s label read ‘Fan Mail’, the other ‘Blegh Mail’. The ‘Blegh’ pile was higher and in danger of tipping over. 

Oh, also there was a Lockjaw bobblehead. Which glowed with Rarity’s magic and yanked itself sharply to the right. 

The trio flinched as the mirror on the opposite wall slid upwards, revealing Rarity’s unimpressed face. She backed up as a row of stairs formed out of the wainscoting. “Thought so,” she said. “I swear I don’t know why I bother with that colt.”

“What’s that on your side?” Spike asked, hopping up the stairs on their side. “Bathroom?”

“I believe it was supposed to be,” Rarity said, muzzle wrinkling with distaste. 

“He’s got plants in here,” Applejack said, indicating a shower full of, well, plants. Print outs of complex looking chemical equations were taped to its walls. “We reckon he’s tryin’ to figure out how to create his own product line.” 

“He doesn’t shower?” Fluttershy asked, blinking. 

“Johnny’s powers…” Rarity began, clearly reluctant to finish. 

“Let him burn bacteria,” Twilight supplied. “For a stallion so obsessed with his mane and coat he’s got a very slapdash approach to hygiene.” 

“Thank you,” Rarity said. She peered around Spike to admire the walk-in. “Looks like you dears chose the winning door. Bad enough we’re dumping so close to his babies, he’s going to wonder if we did anything to them.”

“Like, say…” Twilight’s eyes glowed with magic and malevolence. A white bag appeared in her corona as she made the trash bags swirl. “Swapping the contents of one bag with all their vacuum bag so many times even I don’t know which is which?”

“They grow up so fast!” Rarity simpered, wiping away a fake tear.


10


A flame flickered in the Statue of Destiny’s crown. Most pedestrians who noticed it also noticed all the Pegasi circling the landmark and wrote it off as some sort of performance piece. 

“Well?” the Horseshoe Torch asked. 

Aurora Sheen continued to stare but her body language was oddly relaxed. 

“Alright, that’s it,” E.U.P. captain Keeper declared. “Either you come out or we’re coming in.”

Aurora turned her head to take in Wonderbolts taking position in the slits to her right and left then smiled ruefully at Johnny. The Torch glared back as her Dutch white coat and rainbow hair flowed into Lyja the Laser Lasher’s trademark colours like a twist of a magician’s handkerchief or a flower blooming backwards. 

Johnny intensified his flame aura as a warning, tinting blue at the edges and filling the statue’s crown with sweltering air. 

Lyja sighed. “Could’ve been fun.” 

Sparks danced at the edges of Johnny’s narrowing eyes. 

“Ah well,” Lyja said simply. She shrugged. “Y’know what your problem is, Johnny?”

“Oh, will you just give it up?!” Johnny snapped. 

“It’s that you’re never playing the right game,” Lyja said and suddenly she was backflipping. 

Three of the Wonderbolts at the slits dived towards her. Lyja practically pirouetted into their grasping hooves. She winked at Johnny, her eyes glowing. 

“Wait!” Keeper barked. 

“Aww man,” Johnny moaned, his flames practically drooping. 

He threw up a foreleg in time to cover his eyes against a localised burst of laser vision, but that was only the start of their problem. As he looked back, blinking rapidly and still processing, he saw what he’d expected; a tangle of four ‘Bolts. A double of each of them flickered in and out of existence between their writhing wings. 

Couldn’t grab her without risking burning one of the real ponies, couldn’t flame off and risk her getting— 

“Back up, fellas!” he heard himself say without moving his lips. “I’ll get her!” 

The four-pony whirlwind came apart, three Wonderbolts looking around wildly for an imposter that wasn’t there anymore. 

“Nopony move!” Captain Keeper ordered, motioning wildly. More ’Bolts shot forward to fill the three gaps in their perimeter. The Torch’s head trailed sparks as he whipped it around searching for Lyja, left, right, up, down…at…

He blinked. “Opal?” 

Rarity’s cat winked at him, then fired eye lasers at every available target, scattering Wonderbolts that weren’t sent hurtling back, smoking. Johnny’s inherent distrust of anything that drew friends’ attention away from him gave his instincts enough of a boost to get an epidermal shield up in time to absorb a shot meant for him. 

Not-Opal sprang to the ledge of Lady Destiny’s crown and launched herself into the sky, presumably planning to shift to her true shape and use her powers to jet away or perhaps honestly trusting in that Always-Land-On-Their-Paws thing. 

Then Captain Keeper was there, a furious wall of E.U.P. colours, throwing out a foreleg. Johnny would swear for years afterwards that she clotheslined the damn Skrull-cat right there in the air. 

Lyja sprouted into existence in front of Keeper, looping her forelegs around the officer’s neck and taking her shape as she drove a knee into her new twin’s gut. Keeper retaliated with a headbutt Johnny felt from here, and then they were pitching over, tumbling. Cries of shock erupted from the island below. 

Johnny blasted off out into the night air, gritting his teeth as he realised his flaming contrail would force other rescuers back. The two Keepers were twisting too much for him to tell who was punching who, but he’d put money on the real deal. Problem was he may only be able to reach for one with his flamed-off hooves…

A spontaneous elbow from one of the Keepers sent another flying backwards, not under her own power, to skid down a crease in Lady Destiny’s robe. Johnny looped his forelegs around the apparent victor’s waist and whirled, sending them corkscrewing upwards in a curve precious seconds above unforgiving stone. 

“I’m good,” wheezed the real Keeper, pushing herself free of his grip, her wings flapping. That clinched it, Skrull’s couldn’t imitate real Pegasus wings. “Get her!”

Johnny spun as a flash of purple erupted a little above them and arced towards the jetty. A shape far larger than Lyja smacked down among a crowd of tourists, miraculously not crushing any. 

“Manticore!” somepony shrieked. A stampede of screaming headless-chicken ponies of all breeds was nigh-instantaneous.  

Johnny grinned grimly to himself as he shot overhead, locked on the hulking shape of a female manticore racing through the swarm. A lioness head glared up at him, pincers rattling irritably. 

He thrust out both hooves, creating a wall of flames in the air in front of the ferry terminal, wincing to himself as he realised that’d do nothing for the panic. Even with Keeper’s Wonderbolts shooting in with padding clouds for crowd control, if anypony got hurt in this mob because of his plan…

The manticore sprang, using a railing to boost itself and suddenly Lyja was summersaulting back into existence, clearing the flames and crouch-slamming into the side of the ferry, almost Spidey style, before sliding down it and ninja flipping to ricochet off the railings of and into the lower deck. 

Johnny shot after her, killing his flames and conveniently killing the wall in front of the terminal, and let his momentum turn into a tackle. He wrapped his forelegs around Lyja’s waist this time, holding on vindictively as they went rolling across the deck. Passengers yelped and threw themselves back in their benches as they clanged past. 

“’Nuff game for ya…?” Johnny winced as he tried to be the first on his hooves. 

“My move!” Lyja shot back. She’d got there first. She spun, bucking a door open. 

Johnny stared, almost disbelieving, as the Super Skrull reared up, launching one, two, three blasts down into the guts of the ferry. The whole thing rocked violently, filling the world with the sounds of exploding metal and frothing waves. 

He made the mistake of spinning in the direction of people screaming and Lyja was a shadow plunging into billowing engine smoke. He charged through but stopped, spotting a crewmember slumped against the wall and helping them to their hooves. Another shadow sprang out of the smoke, carrying two unconscious ponies over each shoulder. 

“We’ve got this!” Captain Keeper yelled. “You shut her down!” 

“Owe you big time!” Johnny called back, galloping for build up before bursting back into flame. 

“Bet both flanks, kid!” 

And that’d just be for starters, Johnny thought, dodging around fleeing ponies. Keeper was one of Grim Skies’ old contacts from back in the day, and had a reputation for turning an enemy’s existence into a long night of the soul. She was also one of the few E.U.P. veterans who tolerated supers like him, hence why he’d brought her in on this. She would absolutely tell Spitfire about this boat thing, it’d be a dereliction of duty not to, but if he finally caught Lyja she’d fight her fellow captain (who outranked her by a couple levels? Johnny could never keep track of how this stuff worked) hoof and tail in his defence. 

If all of this worked. All this had already been a gamble as was. 

As was his backup plan. Which part of him was hoping he’d get the excuse to go with. 

Lyja reached the edge of the deck and used her powers as thrusters, blasting off but keeping close to the water to avoid swarming Wonderbolts. The Horseshoe Torch ignited, seconds behind her and they became twin glows racing towards the lights of the city.  



11


Even Johnnycake’s walk in couldn’t hold the vast number of curios the boys had compiled, so despite Twilight’s hopes she had to concede they were going to have to use Peter’s room. It wasn’t the prospect of violating his sanctuary that was weighing on her. She was still mad at him for letting Johnny drop him into this situation and dragging her, Spike and the others along. 

It was Rarity. 

“Be nice,” Twilight said, facing the other Unicorn down.

“Moi?” Rarity trilled, still looking the epitome of impish elegance even with a trash bag on her back. 

Applejack moved before Twilight could say anything (and more importantly before Rarity could quip back) and swung the Spectacular Spider-Pony’s door open. 

Peter’s room was smaller than Johnny’s, naturally, probably intended to be a guest room for a normal pony while the Torch’s had been for the Thing. You had to wonder what was behind Peter’s far wall if Johnny’s stretched on past it. Probably utility stuff, since the few other apartments on this floor were currently unoccupied and the end of their hall included not just the building’s maintenance stairwell but a fully functioning freight elevator. 

Twilight and Spike knew from nights over, when it was just too much hassle to teleport back to Ponyville, that the Thing sometimes used it to reach this floor, though the staircases took his weight just fine. Johnny used it the most to reach a small workshop he’d set up in 616’s spacious basement, which didn’t stop him straight up working on various gizmos in the living room. Peter could be just as bad with his own homebrew science experiments, which was why Twilight had carefully stored those for preservation and then left the bag in Johnny’s room. Have fun hunting for it, dear.

“How cosy,” Fluttershy said, a genuine compliment.  

“Indeed,” Rarity agreed. 

Applejack made a positive but noncommittal noise. She was trying not to make a big deal out of the fact Peter’s room was almost the size of her family’s living room. Not his fault a giant robot busted up his ol’ digs. On the other hoof, guy had enough room for a bed and a mother huggin’ hammock, which Twilight was now irritably, telekinetically folding up.  

“Gotta admit,” AJ said, “half figured he slept hangin’ from the ceiling.” 

“Comments?” Rarity asked sweetly, side eyeing Twilight. 

“That’s one,” Twilight said, holding up a warning hoof and telekinetically dumping Peter’s hammock against a wall with more force than necessary. 

Now that it was out of the way they could better make out the room. Peter had gone with silver lake blue paint (or the room had come with it, whatever), meaning that, with Johnny’s burgundy room and the daffodil walls of their living room, 616B sported all three primary colours. 

There was a strange…office-like sensation, which gnawed at you until you took a step back and realised most of Peter’s space consisted of neatly arranged shelves. No, not even those. Black vinyl or faux-wooden modular shelving cubes, stacked on top of each other, containing mismatched rows of books and overstuffed files. The ones in the middle were reserved for knickknacks and half disassembled household appliances. 

“So this is where the magic happens,” Rarity cooed, trotting up to Peter’s unmade bed which, everypony could now not help noticing, sported heather coloured sheets. 

“That’s two,” Twilight warned. 

“I was referring to that magnificent specimen of a desk, darling!” 

Rarity spun perfectly in place to point to it. Peter’s desk was also a recommissioned bureau, though it was mercifully smaller than Johnny’s and an off-white patch of wall suggested Peter had removed the mirror to create shelving space. Two shelves of cubes sat either side of it, a board balanced between them to form a top shelf, three more attached to the wall. While the lower rows contained more disassembled appliances and the odd action figure, the top seemed reserved for used bottles and soda cans. 

“Not as Spidery as you’d think,” Spike noted. 

“Peter’s careful,” Twilight said simply, shrugging before briskly dumping two bags at the foot of her boyfriend’s bed. 

Pinkie hopped up onto the stool, balanced only on her hind legs. “So what’s a Spider-Pony drink?” She squinted. “Banana flavoured Sweet Water Ranch. Zesty Trough, also ’nana flavoured. Crown Cola…no, wait, Diet Crown Cola. Yeesh, basic! Bet licking the rim wouldn’t even give you spidey-powers.”

“Why would you lick the rim?” Spike asked, more caught off guard than he was grossed out. 

“So he likes…bananas?” Applejack asked.

Twilight squinted at the way the farm girl was looking directly into her eyes. “Is that relevant?” 

“He just never mentioned it, is all.” 

AJ sat down suddenly, letting her trash bag tumble off her back to smack against one of Peter’s shelves. 

“Here’s a relevant question,” Rarity smirked. She gestured to the bed. “Who’s the little spoon?” 

And found herself tumbling out of a violet radiance to land face first in one of the bushes in 616 Yancy Street's courtyard. 


***


“Three,” Twilight said, light fading in her eyes. 

The rest of the group glanced at each other, Spike with an air of warning. 

“I, um,” Fluttershy said for something to break the tension, “I like his pictures?” 

She gestured to the right hoof wall, the space over Peter’s bed. The only other furniture was a chair with an attached lamp and another stack of shelves. It served as a reading corner judging by their books and copies of Scientific Equestria. (Though Peter’s immediate reading material appeared to come from a cardboard box full of comic books currently occupying his chair.) This still hadn’t been enough to fill the Thing-like space of the room so he’d covered the wall between his bed and literature with a mural of photos and small posters. 

“He still dabbles,” Twilight said, leaving to ferry more bags. 

Shots of Manehattan mostly, of course, the Big Apple from impossible angles only a wall-crawler could find, but more mundane ones too. Construction sites, busy intersections. Friends, family. Even the odd group shot of the Elements, more of Twilight and Spike. 

Applejack noted his movie poster collection was largely comedies, which tracked. Some wrestling ones too, which surprised her, but then the guy did run around in a luchador outfit, so. The only photo of Spider-Pony in Peter’s collection was a Derby Bugle front page, just the costume spread across a table with the headline Spider-Pony No More? 

Had Rarity not currently been extricating herself from her bush she’d have checked the photo credit and taken note that Peter Trotter hadn’t been the one to take it. A private joke?, she’d wonder, instead of, Augh, leaves in my mane, LEAVES IN MY MANE! 

Peter’s only other wall decorations were a map of the city taped to his left wall between his desk and his wardrobe, his degree from Equestria State University directly over the bed, and a dartboard next to the room’s only window. News reports were taped next to red ringed sections of the map, while small photos were assigned to rings on the board, all covered in suction cup darts. 

The likes of the Shaker, Overcharger, Norsog and Batroc the Leaper earned merely 10 points. Spellectro, Basilisk, Poison Pony and Kraken the Hunter covered 20 to 30. Mister Negative, Doctor Argonaut and local yeti philanthropist Fierce Wisdom (rumoured to be the Crime King) held 40. The honour of 50 was shared by photos of Bugle publisher Ferocious Flattop, sporting two suction cups, and Peter’s fellow shutterbug Snappy Scoop, which was the only one to have an actual dart in it. Right between her eyes. 

“Not much of a view, huh?” Applejack mused, peering out the window as if the brick wall on the other side was about to become more interesting. 

“He’s cool with it,” Spike grunted, pushing a trash bag into the hammock corner. “Says its useful.” 

“Huh?” Applejack blinked. 

So did Fluttershy. “Does he not like ponies watching him or something?” 

“No, it’s like…” Spike waved a paw, trying to shape something from the air. “Y’know how old buildings like this have these…like in video games?”

“Nope,” said Applejack, a mare happy to get Apple Bloom the latest PlayStable™ for Hearth’s Warming but who’d left her own interest behind in Ponyville’s arcade about a decade ago. 

Twilight returned with more trash bags. “It’s an old air shaft,” she explained. “Back in the 1800s cities like Manehattan didn’t always build apartments with enough windows for light and ventilation. It’s why some older models like this can just open onto a wall.”

“Right!” Spike agreed. “Pete uses it to crawl in and out without anypony spotting him.”

Pinkie began to open the window, eyes wide and eager. Applejack maternally slammed it shut. 

Rarity primly trotted into the room, trash bag on her back and only a single remaining leaf in her mane. “I thought they were all condemned as safety hazards,” she said icily. 

“Most were,” Twilight agreed, not looking at her as she passed back into the living room, “but the few that remain are a lot safer now that nopony uses them to dump their waste.” 

Rarity rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything, simply passing Spike her bag with her telekinesis. 

She hesitated, eyes at the apex of their roll, and went rigid. Repressing a sigh Applejack followed her gaze. And also went rigid. 

“’Scuse!” Pinkie said, cheerfully bouncing over them. 

She was oblivious to how close her tail came to being tangled in a cocoon of webbing in the centre of Peter’s ceiling. 

At first they’d assumed it was some kind of pretentious cosmopolitan lighting rig, and with horror the two staring Elements realised this was because of a metallic impression created by how many used soda cans were poking out between its strands. 

Fluttershy and Spike followed their gaze. The Pegasus seemed unphased while the light of gross out admiration flickered in the dragon’s eyes. “Oh yeah, he uses those for target practice. Twilight’s always on his case about it.” 

“It’s like something out of nature,” Fluttershy said a bit too happily. 

“I may vomit,” Rarity said. 

“He recycles ’em,” Spike assured. “Well. Eventually.” 

“No, no,” Rarity explained. “I can see Zesty Trough in there. I mean, I know Peter eats the odd fly, but there’s such a thing as standards!” 

Twilight returned, looked up at it and tutted with matrimonial disapproval. Then a Trixie-esque look crossed her face. In a flash of purple Peter’s trash/recycling cocoon was now on his bed, his ceiling dancing with cleansing sparkles to rub it in. Rarity nodded in approval and they shared smirks, school filly animosity forgotten. 


***


“How long we got?” Applejack sighed, heading out to bundle up more living room stuff. 

“At least an hour,” Twilight said, “though given the sort of work these ponies do they could be delayed falling into an alternate timeline or something. Anything. Pinkie’s setting up the gaming tables if anypony wants to help.” 

“Enough time for a quick peek,” Rarity declared, trotting over to Peter’s desk. 

It was somewhat neater than Johnny’s, though that wasn’t saying much. Peter seemed to have three projects on the go at once, even if he had separated his components and tools into neat sections. He also maximized worktop space by stacking files, a counterintuitive accident waiting to happen. 

The only immediately Spider-related materials were what looked like a set of half-finished mask lenses and a homebrew magical charger, with an adorable little wire copy of the spider insignia in its clamps. The flashlight for his costume. If you looked closely, you could see the air around it ripple with low level magic. (Oh, and also the suction cup gun for his dartboard, fresh ammo loyally lined up beside it.) 

Very business-like, all things considered. Rarity was disappointed. Not even an action figure to tease, although she could see the odd cartoon character here and there on Peter’s shelves. She turned her attention to Peter’s wardrobe. 

“Uh…” Spike began helplessly. 

“Nearly done!” Rarity trilled, telekinetically flipping both doors open. 

Peter’s wardrobe was as large as Johnny’s, though lacking extra compartments which was very in character. As was his basic—No, Rarity corrected herself, his practical rack of clothing. Some decent suits, including one she was sure was a Sleek Yet Serine number, well done Mr. Trotter, there’s hope for you yet.  After that it was mostly winter wear, which made sense from what she remembered of fillyhood lectures from Granny Smith on Everfree beasts: spiders didn’t care for low temperatures. 

“No costume?” she asked. She turned to Spike and smirked. “Or has he started leaving those at Twilight’s?” 

“Um,” Spike said, blushing. 

Rarity chuckled. “Sorry darling, I’ve been naughty tonight, I know.” 

“Um,” Spike squeaked, reeling from connotations of Rarity and Naughty. 

Fluttershy trotted in dragging yet another bag and hesitated. “Any room in there? We’re almost done but the boys have so much stuff…”

Rarity scanned the rest of the space. Peter’s only other items of clothing were on a shelf he’d set aside for his spare Damage Control vest, hard hat, and paperwork. He used the rest for more boxes, full of…huh. 

“Think so,” Rarity decided, reaching in, “if we move some of this.” 

Spike was already there to accept a box full of files, the lamb, and she and Fluttershy managed to squeeze the bag into a corner. 

“We’d probably fit some more if we put this by the bed,” Rarity decided, indicating a larger, sturdier looking box. The lid wasn’t properly shut, which made it fair game in her book, so she flipped it open. It looked like a pile of action figure accessories and Nightmare Night decorations, though one item caught her attention enough to actually pick it up. 

A purple box with gold gilding and a crank. 

“Hmm, what’ve you been up to Twilight?” she smiled. The crank glowed with her magic. 

“Never seen that before,” Spike said hesitantly, looking up from the trash bag he was hauling over. 

“Curiouser and curiouser!” decreed Rarity as a tinny beat began to play. 

“Oh,” Fluttershy said, “isn’t that Spider-Pony’s…?” 

Spike cocked his head to one side. “♫Livin’ on the edge, fightin’ crime, spinnin’♫…yeah!” 

Rarity was about to say something pithy when the door slammed open. 

“Don’t touch it!” Twilight yelled, leaping towards them. 

Rarity was so alarmed she fumbled the box, sending it tumbling to the floor. That’s what saved her from the razor bat-wing blades that burst out the sides. 

The group let out a collective cry as a bizarre effigy erupted from the box, swelling to the size of Spike’s head, somehow worse for being sideways. Applejack was in the doorway immediately, lasso in hoof. Twilight waved frantically and she froze. 

“You guys okay?” Pinkie called from the living room. 

Twilight shushed her, but it was lost over a teeth stinging rush of static. She glared at the box as the others stared, Applejack cautiously trotting up beside her. The jack of this particular box was a caricature of a grinning goat in lurid greens and purples, the teeth of its demented grin as large as its eyes, so wide and yellow they hurt to look at. A pair of horns slicing out of its purple aviator cap looked like actual knives. 

The worst part, somehow, was a banner merrily spread between the goat’s hooves. 


GOTCHA!


And then it spoke. 

“…Trotter?”

Nopony moved. 

“Trotter?” the voice repeated irritably. Even through that cartoonish radio whine they could hear an imperious aristocratic quality to it. 

Twilight mouthed ‘Quiet.’ 

“What do you want, Trotter? Decided you’re not too big to play after all? Or are you so small you need to throw rocks at an old man’s window?” 

“Hello?” Pinkie asked simply, almost causing a mass heart attack. 

She froze as Twilight rounded on her with wide eyes, the atmosphere hitting her like a wave. 

Outraged silence from the radio. 

“Who is this?” the voice asked, seething. You could almost believe it was reaching into the airwaves, grasping for you. 

Applejack silently put a foreleg to Pinkie’s frozen shoulder and nodded at Twilight, who began to gingerly tip the box right side up with her telekinesis. The goat puppet lurched with unsettling snake motions as it righted. 

“Is that little Gem Stone?” Mockery. The predatory delight of a bully. “Sweet Merry Jane?”

Twilight frowned. The batwings were rigid, their magical mechanisms holding the lid open and letting that stupid puppet keep broadcasting. 

“…Harry?” 

An almost disbelieving plea. Rarity put a hoof over her mouth. Fluttershy’s pupils were shrinking. 

Twilight gasped as the lid finally snapped shut. The air in the room rang. 


***


“Do I wanna know what that was?” Applejack asked as their collective pulse rate began to lower. 

“That was the Goat Goblin, wasn’t it?” Fluttershy said as if from somewhere far away inside herself. “That was Norman Osthorn.” 

Twilight nodded simply. 

“I’m sorry,” Rarity blurted. “Oh everypony, I’m so sorry, I had no idea--”

“It’s alright,” Twilight assured, picking up the box. “You didn’t know.”

A beat.

“Man,” Pinkie said with unaccustomed vehemence, “what a creep.” 

“Amen,” Applejack agreed. 

“I thought he was under permanent house arrest,“ Fluttershy said. 

Twilight waited until she’d tucked the box away and closed the wardrobe door, her chest heaving with a silent, fortifying inhale. 

“He is,” she assured, “out on his old family estate. He’s in no position to hurt anypony, under constant royal guard. If he wasn’t such a cesspool of underworld information they’d probably have tossed him into Tartarus years ago.”

“Right,” Applejack said, “I remember. Pete thinks he only slips plans to other crooks on the sly nowadays?” 

“Somehow,” Twilight agreed. “But that’s all he can do. Princess Celestia made sure that formula of his was purged from his body, and he was going to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair before that.”

“He’s not going to come sniffing around Ponyville is he?” Rarity asked. “Because superpowers or not I promise you, if he even looks at Sweetie Belle—!” 

Twilight looked between her and Applejack, who had a similar expression now she was instinctively thinking of Apple Bloom. 

“Of course not,” she said, trying not to sound like she was this close to patting Rarity on the head. “I mean, we’ll make sure Princess Celestia knows but there’s no scrying spells in there. I checked. Even if he could leave his estate what could he do? All he’d have is a voice he didn’t know.”

Oh great, now Pinkie’s ears were drooping guiltily. Spike, who’d been far too quiet for Twilight’s liking, jumped in before she could attempt to console the party pony. “Wait, you knew Pete just had that thing?”  

“Yes,” Twilight said, trying not to let her eyes well up at the look on his face. “He asked me to look some, uh, mementos from his adventures over when we used to, uh,” she tried not to blush, “consult. Before we were official.”

“So is that whole box full of--” Rarity began.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Spike asked. 

The other Elements looked between his confused, almost hurt expression and the agony of indecision and guilt on Twilight own face. Rarity reached out to put a hoof on his shoulder. 

A rush of wind from the living room! A scrambling sound from the window behind them! They all flinched. 

Rainbow Dash flapped into the room, winning the unofficial race because Spider-Pony hesitated at his window to take in how many people were just standing around in his bedroom. 

“The-white-zone-is-for-loading-and-unloading,” Dash monotoned into her hooves as he pulled up the window. Everypony blinked at her and she waved a hoof up and down to indicate Spidey. “Y’know, ’cause of all the baggage.” 

“Hilarious,” Spidey deadpanned as everypony but Twilight and Spike snickered. He looked around at the trash bags taking up his space, then at Twilight’s expression and settled for just hopping off the windowsill and popping his neck. “Gimme a sec to get cleaned up and I’ll help you finish up. Least I can do.” 

His lenses did that signature squint as he noticed the uncertain way Spike was carrying himself, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he trotted over to his wardrobe and swung it open. He froze for the briefest of seconds when he saw the open lid of the memento box then fired a web from his tail, snagging one of the projects from his desk and hastily stuffing it inside. It looked like a boomerang. 

“Are you alright, Peter?” Fluttershy asked. She was still trying to get used to calling him by his real name in the costume. “It’s just, you seem a bit, that is, I hope it’s not impolite to point out you’re a bit…um.” 

“I could give it a go,” Rarity said flatly, “but it does rather speak for itself.” 

Spidey looked down at his suit, covered in grey stains and hardened chips. “Oh, ah, had a run in with a cement mixer. I’ll switch into a clean spare before everypony shows up.”

“Long as ya pull your weight in the meantime,” Applejack said, pointedly tapping one of the trash bags with her tail. 

“Sure.” 

Peter began by pulling his Spidey-shirt over his head and froze, forelegs still in the now inside out sleeves, as it dawned on him he was shirtless but still in his mask in front of not only his girlfriend but her friends. And Spike. 

“Uh…could I get a moment?”

Applejack and Fluttershy hastily made their way to the door, blushing because they’d been brought to be respectable little fillies. Their faces glowed even brighter as Dash flapped backwards, miming a trombone and parping The Stripper, Rarity “♫Ba-duh-duh-duh!♫”ing in accompaniment. 

“Want me to run that down to laundry for you?” Spike asked Peter. He was already bundling up the costume, not looking at Twilight. 

“That’s o—” Peter turned, now in only his hoof-gloves and boots, surprised as Spike took off with what could be bundled. “—kay?”

“I’ll explain later,” Twilight sighed. She frowned, licked her hoof, and began using it to smooth down Peter’s mask-mane. A purple glow surrounded a brush on his tool shelf for cleaning small components and it began to swirl about him, raising small clouds of cement dust. 

“We should pro--” Peter began, then coughed, inadvertently blowing some dust into Twilight’s face. “Sorry! Sorry. Uh, we should probably talk about something real quick, before the party.”

“Oh really,” Twilight wheezed icily, one eyes closed, the other glinting dangerously. 

“Not about...That is, it’s a work thing.” Peter realised that since Pinkie had bounced out to help the rest he was now alone. With Twilight right there in front of him. “Have I said sorry yet?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” 

“But you will.”

“Yes, dear.” 

He repressed a sigh because she’d assume it was aimed at her and helpfully turned his head so she could dust his cheek. He squinted at his bed. 

“Did you move my cocoon?” 

“Do you want to start with me this evening, Peter Glean Trotter?”

“No, dear.” 


To be Continued

> Two Flare (4)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


12


Ponies on the ground craned their heads to take in two streaks circling the Trinity and Realty buildings, one twin lines of violet, the other a single tongue of golden flame. 

Lyja completed her spiral of the Realty building and sliced towards the bridge between the two. The Horseshoe Torch threw out his hooves, conjuring a giant flaming stop sign construct in front of it. 

Lyja let out a yelp and killed her ad-hoc hoof thrusters, dropping out of her flight path and grabbing the ledge, dangling above a twenty one story drop. A startled Horseshoe Torch sailed over her, his thwarted grab giving him too much momentum, and slammed through his own stop sign.

It came apart in chunks and tongues of flame, dragged back into his body. Johnny braked again mid-whirl, now upside down and snorting as sparks flew up his nose. 

He sneezed, inadvertently activating his thermal vision, which kinda worked out: he could see Lyja’s body heat, slightly bluer than the Equestrian average but with neat winking bits in it from her powers, galloping upside down across the roofs. He’d have missed her in disorientated normal vision. Now he could channel his anger productively, with a vengeance.

Lyja skidded to a startled halt as a soccer goal made of fire burst into existence in front of her. She spun around but another was already finishing off its burning netting. 

“Nowhere to run,” the Torch said grimly, hovering only a few feet above her. “No more games!” 

“Oh, honey,” Lyja sighed, then backflipped onto the ledge…and kept on going, into a dive towards the sidewalk. 

Johnny let out an involuntary interrobang, diving after her. She had the gall to causally reach out to him as if for a hug. 

Her smirk wavered as he drew level with her and she saw what he was pulling from his utility collar; a pair of hoof cuffs. Johnny grinned with vindictive mania as he snapped one around her right foreleg. 

Then realised that not only would Lyja probably not survive the torque of a sudden stop, not without losing her cuffed leg at least, neither would he, could he, and, cherry on top, they were still in freefall. 

He slapped a control rune on his collar to release his cuff and free his hoof, looped his now unlit foreleg around Lyja’s waist and spun, changing places with her. He channelled half his propulsion out through his free foreleg, aimed at the ground to keep them stable as he fired the rest out through his hind legs, shooting them forward and out of the dive, a few feet above the asphalt. Pedestrians on the sidewalks stared as one of the strangest meteors they’d ever seen raced down the road. 

“Cab!” Lyja shrieked over the wind, desperately waving her free foreleg, her left. 

Johnny twisted, gritting his teeth as they narrowly avoided colliding with the handsome. He could make out the startled faces of the driver and both passengers receding into the distance. He began fighting now not just to maintain their momentum and his grip on Lyja but to turn them right way round, so he could see where he was ever lovin’ going in moving traffic. In the wrong direction.

The things a pony had to do to be a superhero in this city…

“Truck!” Lyja yelled. Johnny swerved with each wave of her hoof. “Lamp! Tree! Carriage!” 

Johnny cut his flight, using his latest spin to push off the carriage fast enough to avoid setting fire to it, then gunned it. Now right side up and facing forward, both forehooves unlit to grip Lyja’s, her hind legs peddling helplessly above the asphalt, they shot down an intersection, finally out of incoming traffic. He curved sharply to keep Lyja disorientated and join ongoing traffic, rising steadily above it. 

“Don’t worry,” he called over rattling hooves and the occasional engine noise, “soon have you in a nice, quiet cell where the only carts you’ve gotta worry about are which one’s you’re making licence plates for.” 

Lyja snorted even as she had to cross her raised hind legs to avoid scraping a van roof. “Oh yeah, putting the bad guy in jail, that always works so well for you people.”

“So you admit you’re a bad person, great, the system works!”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, lover. These cuffs are made from Mr. Fantastic’s unstable molecules, right?”

“Duh,” Johnny said before he could stop himself, because she wouldn’t ask unless—

Lyja rammed her hoofs off a low-level flagpole, performing a powerful somersault that dragged the startled Torch with her. At its apex she grabbed the other cuff, which he’d completely forgotten about, and suddenly Johnny couldn’t breathe. In mere seconds of hangtime Lyja had stretched the cuff’s band as far as it would go, forming a helix as they flipped right side up that came down around his neck. 

River Reed’s unstable molecular magic reinforced any fabric it was cast into, allowing it to turn invisible with the Phantasmal Pony or survive the Torch’s intense temperatures. The team's utility collars were made of the same stuff and anything that could survive the Thing’s super strong movements would of course be sturdy enough to reduce dangers to the equine neck, but that wasn’t the same as being armoured. And the makeshift garrotte had Lyja’s full dangling body weight behind it. 

“oH cOmE oN!” Johnny gagged furiously, trying to wedge a foreleg into the helix to force it open as he began to dip and weave erratically. 

He attempted to use an involuntary swerve to smash Lyja against a wall, but she countered with this irritatingly awesome wall run out of a Hong Kong action movie. 

Their erratic flight path brought them over a flatbed cart hauling construction supplies. Lyja’s hoof scraped against bricks under a tarp, giving her enough leverage to plant herself and bring the Torch swinging down to slam onto a row of I-beams. Johnny flamed off from the sudden impact, sprawling stunned and breathless on his back like a phoenix cursed into a turtle. 

“You always…have to make…everything so…difficult,” Lyja snarled, twisting the cuff band even tighter, her voice warbling in the piercing ring in Johnny’s ears. 

“Meal…ticket…” he managed to wheeze. 

Lyja froze, giving Johnny enough seconds to slap his collar rune again. The closed cuff around her hoof released, the band loosening. The sudden release, combined with Johnny’s desperate surge upright, sent the Skull toppling backwards off the cart. 

“’Ey!” one of the hauler’s yelled as Johnny hacked and gulped his way back to all fours. “Whaddaya think this is, a parade float?” 

Johnny was too oxygen deprived for a retort, rubbing his throat as he scrambled to get to the edge of his perch without slipping off. The sound of bumping carts and indignant Manehattan accents was rising over the ringing in his ears, even more disorientating. 

He couldn’t have lost her, he couldn’t, not this close. Good news was this impromptu traffic jam would block her in, not enough pedestrians around for her to—

A green tiger with purple stripes and eyes snarled into the air, pouncing off the building supplies to launch itself from cart to cart to van to sidewalk, scattering startled ponies. 

Johnny took a final gulp of cold Manehattan night air, still close enough to the end of the island to taste slightly of salt, and reignited, rocketing after it. 


13


Twilight considered the row of faction masks and symbols as Peter finished laying them out. 

“Run us through them again?”

“Sure.” Peter indicated each face of evil with a hoof. “Everypony knows A.I.M. The Inner Demons’ve been in the news for a while now.” He waved the torn jacket symbol. “You and Applejack helped out with the Tracksuit Draculas—”

“Surprised they’re still up ‘n’ runnin’,” Applejack supplied from the speaker she was helping Pinkie set up. 

“—and this is where it gets interesting.” Peter indicated a crimson ninja hood. “The Hoof Clan.” The white ski mask with sewn in beret. “The Flag Smashers.” A puppet face. “The Tartarus Gate Club’s guards.” And a snake’s head. “And the Sons of the Serpent.” 

“Thought the Hoof were just an urban myth, but so are a lot of things,” Twilight mused, considering the row. “Seen these Flag people in the news now and then, and I recognize the Tartarus Gate heavies, unfortunately…”

“Have they been bothering you with membership again, darling?” Rarity asked, equally concerned and intrigued. She’d met Sir Bastion Shears, current Summer Sorcerer of the club, during her time in Canterlot and she had to admit he was very good at making his Club sound appealing, despite being exactly the sort of stallion you’d associate with Tartarus. 

“Oh, no!” Twilight assured. “But for a bunch of blank faced goons their, uh, goons leave an impression.” 

“Is it that rich people should dress their lackeys up like crash test dummies to save time?” Dash asked, ferrying snacks to the buffet table. 

Twilight smiled at her and returned her attention to the row of masks spread out on the one table that hadn’t been dragooned into poker night service, the one in front of Peter and Johnny’s ‘trophy wall’. 


***


The large amount of space between each resident’s room had been covered in items of dubious personal significance, though she had to admit it was nice how it was all arranged around a poster of Princess Celestia in the centre. But there was the collection itself…

Most of what she could recognise was hero related, scraps of costume, with items on two shelves and the table that were probably equipment. One of Kraken the Hunter’s vests, one of Mysterio’s helmets, that sort of thing. 

The rest was a chaotic mystery to her, such as why the boys felt it necessary to own a plastic alligator with a horned helmet. Or an animatronic werewolf head with a Captain Adventure mask. Or a disturbingly disgruntled looking rubber duck they’d dressed in a tiny suit and bowler hat for the Great Pony in the Sky knows what reason!

Where some cosmopolitan ponies might hang (hopefully fake) swords in imitation of ancient nobility, the boys’ affectionate armoury included a crossed pair of red and black hockey sticks confiscated from Deadfoal and a disassembled grappling gun, its line stretched across the wall, looped repeatedly in the middle so as not to take up the whole space. 

Under that was a shelf bearing assorted musical instruments you could tell were evil because they had little skulls on them, and a set of false Elements of Harmony from one of Flim and Flam’s more ambitious schemes. Twilight made a Marge Simpson-esque grunt of annoyance at the memory, which she still had a scar on her right foreleg from, but her annoyance subsided a little as her eyes automatically homed in on other, more pleasant reminders of her existence. 

Peter had framed an invitation to her coronation for the wall, and a brochure of Ponyville shared space with a collage of flyers. A model hot air balloon painted to look like her own had the honour of being on the table next to one of The Excelsior, the famous airship that had changed Johnny and his family’s lives forever. 

A zen garden on one shelf, another of Johnny’s ‘Oh,-This-Old-Thing?’ projects for dates, sported models of the Golden Oaks Library, Fluttershy’s cottage and Carousel Boutique. The Torch had even somehow found and added one of her new castle. 

Other nods to the Elements included a Pinkie Party invitation (custom party hats Pinkie had made for both roomies respectfully stashed on a shelf next to it), a poster for the opening of the Canterlot Carousel, packaging from Sugar Cube Corner and Sweet Apple Acres used for collage, and a shelf for homemade merch for Ponyville’s official Rainbow Dash fanclub. 

But the rest…

An airship’s wheel, a fake fire hydrant, a horsehead bust wearing sunglasses and one of those fake arrow through the head rigs…the arbitrary list went on and on. For every sincere memento in the boys’ collection there was some ‘DUDE!’ prop, drowning you with embarrassment by association. 

What really summed it up was a plaque under the Celestia poster. It’d originally been attached to the front door, but Twilight and Rarity had nagged the boys into removing it like adults, so they’d planted it here in moody compromise. For no reason Twilight could think of, but felt was unsettlingly apt, it read ‘Hope You Survive the Experience!’

It was like staring into Johnny and Peter’s brains…


***


“Twilight? Hon?” 

Peter had wandered off to pack away more trash bags and had noticed her just standing there, staring into the trophy wall. 

Twilight shook her head. “Sorry! Got…side-tracked.” 

She frowned at the row of faction paraphernalia spread out on the table among cleared memorabilia space, though they already fitted in perfectly. “So. These groups don’t collaborate, not normally.” 

“We’ve been over that,” Dash called irritably from across the room. “Hay, it’s basically the only thing we know!” 

“Well, we know what they were collaborating about, at least. Looting, you said?”

“Yeah, and pillaging.” 

“Alright.” Twilight’s hoof drifted over each mask, contemplatively pointing to the Inner Demon mask and the torn Tracksuit Dracula logo. “That would make sense for these two, but not the rest, right?”

“Right,” Peter agreed, his tone encouraging her to keep following her train of thought. 

“I suppose the Hoof wouldn’t be above robbery—”

“Pillaging,” Dash corrected. 

“—but they’re ninjas, you’d think they’d be stealthier. Why sack one of the city’s busiest streets at sunset when they could just steal whatever they wanted at night?” She tapped her chin. “The Serpents are a cult, maybe they’d think of it as a tribute to whatever it is they worship, but fanatics wouldn’t share, especially not with rival factions.” 

“An’ those Tartarus Gate people’re loaded,” Applejack supplied, helping Dash set up a chalkboard to keep track of tonight’s players. 

“Right,” Peter agreed. “Their corporate raiding’s usually way more subtle. A.I.M’s entire deal is that they don’t care about anything except pushing the envelope. So that’s two sides here that’d only supply muscle to each other. They might split the take, but they wouldn’t pull the job together. And not one that small time!” 

“Alright, let’s try this another way,” Twilight said distantly, telekinetically picking up the chalk without turning around. 

Dash and AJ backed up as it began to draw lines for rows. 

“Their means are similar, so let’s focus on methods and motives. The Inner Demons and the, uh, Tracksuits are local. Pillaging is something they do every day.”

The chalk wrote down both faction names under one line. 

“The Serpents and the Flag Smashers are both out to destroy Equestria as we know it, so they might partner up. Hmm, so why would the Tartarus Gate Club work with them? Their members are all ponies of influence, the last thing they’d want is an end to the status quo.” 

“Not if they can replace it with one more to their liking,” Rarity pointed out from arranging a seating area just so. “These A.I.M. people could be helping them in that regard.” 

“They want a world free of ethical limitations for their experiments,” Twilight agreed. “Hmm, so where does the Hoof fit in? And even then, that’s three groups with very tenuous reasons to work together. What do they all have in common that a ninja clan would want?” 

“Not to assume anything about anypony,” Fluttershy said carefully as Peter helped her put down another tablecloth, “but these kinds of ponies do have a habit of turning on each other.” 

“Like rabid dogs,” Rarity agreed as Twilight nodded, writing down (No) Honour amongst thieves. “They could’ve all gone in knowing they’d be at it later.” 

“Still leaves the question of a link, though,” Twilight said, doodling a money sack with a question mark on it. “And as Peter pointed out, A.I.M. and the club play for bigger stakes. It can’t just be money.” 

“Magic, then,” Dash said. She rolled her eyes as they turned to her. “It’s Equestria, guys.”

“Fair point,” Twilight sighed, sketching Magic? under the sack and writing Motives above both. “I suppose they could’ve used ransacking…42nd Street, was it?” Dash nodded. “As cover for an actual robbery, but again, why not just sneak it out?” 

“Maybe they couldn’t,” Peter suggested.

“Maybe,” Applejack said pointedly, flipping the board over to the blank side, “we should remember why we’re really here?”

“Uh, right, yeah,” Twilight agreed, abashed, and began drawing up three brackets for each of the game tables. “Sorry, mysteries, y’know? Heh!” 

“I know we’re probably better off lettin’ the M.E.U.P. handle it,” Applejack replied, starting to unstack some chairs for building meetings they’d found in the basement.

“You must be new here,” Peter quipped, taking his own stack. 

“Hey, you locals wanna kick over these rocks, go right ahead. Friendship problems keep us busy enough as is, is all I’m sayin’.” 

“Party pooper,” Dash muttered sullenly. 


14


The next few minutes went by fairly quickly, especially once Pinkie fired up the sound-system she’d borrowed from Vinyl Scratch with some motivating tunes. 

If Twilight and Rarity had their druthers the trophy wall would’ve been dismantled, but the boys always got huffy whenever the topic was even implied. In a mixed blessing its presence had meant Pinkie staying fairly restrained when choosing poker themed decorations, helping to give the space a little pizazz even without guests. 

The focus of the evening would be on three tables for the participants, the winners squaring off at the Thing’s central table for the final hands. Under Rarity’s careful arranging they formed a nice “nigh-triskelion” (her word choice, naturally) with the chalkboard both blocking off the left side windows to prevent intrusive street noises, forming a little corral for the game itself. 

The right side of the room held the buffet table, conveniently situated by the kitchen for refills, and two chill out areas made from the boys’ sofa and armchairs, with additional sofas from Twilight’s castle and some spare Sugar Cube Corner chairs around a table. 

There’d been the issue of how much space was still left between the two, even Pinkie’s sound system not filling it up, but Rarity had solved that with a few strategically placed lamps to give the place a club feel and by setting down one of her Saddle Arabian rugs. 


***


“Theeere we go,” Spike cooed, adjusting a corner to make it that little bit straighter. Rarity beamed with approval. 

Twilight hesitated, still telekinetically chalking down the guest list. Spike hadn’t been gone long, sequestering Peter’s costume away for washing somewhere, but he’d come back a bit too chipper for her liking. A lifetime in each other’s pockets meant she could tell when he was trying to drown something out with busywork, a trait she worried she’d imprinted on him. 

“Almost perfect,” Rarity decreed cheerfully, backing up to take it all in. 

“We’re movin’, we’re movin’,” Applejack grunted, pushing some last trash bags into Peter’s room with the stallion’s help. 

“Mmm? Oh, I meant in spite of the wall, darling.” Rarity indicated the trophies with a waving hoof, not dignifying them by turning around. 

“What if we put up some banners?” Spike asked perkily. Rarity blinked at him. “Y’know, tastefully frame some of ‘em, hide the ones that aren’t. We could make ‘em up like cards. If I hurry I could sow some up!” 

“That’s rather more a…renaissance fair type of thing,” Rarity said carefully, “but good thinking all the same.”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble!” 

Peter looked at Twilight, who shrugged haplessly, and then gave the wall of trash bags a final push. 

“An’ I thought Dash had too much junk,” Applejack sighed, removing her Stetson to mop her brow. “You guys ever think maybe ya’ll gotta spendin’ problem?” 

“Why?” Peter asked, slamming his door on most of his property. “Not like we actually paid for most of it.” 

“…that punch ready yet?” Applejack asked Pinkie. She didn’t wait for the party pony's “Yuh-huh.” before beelining for the kitchen. 

“You better not be expecting any help putting all that back,” Dash said, lounging in one of the chillout chairs. “We weren’t even halfway done with it before Twilight sent me out looking for your lazy butt. Plus, I basically did your job for you with quilt boy, and you don’t see my photo on the front page.” 

“Give it time,” Peter deadpanned. 

“Quilt Boy?” Twilight asked. “Is he new?”

“She means the Shaker.” 

“Oh. Was he part of that mess on 42nd?”

“Nah, just passing through. That happens sometimes.” 

“About that,” Dash said awkwardly, realising, “Night and Wings might, kinda, sorta--”

“Aww road apples.” Applejack took another, louder swig of punch. “Tell me ya didn’t say nothin’.”

“They’re on the list, Mom, that’s all.” 

“Oh great, they’re comin’ right to us, that’s swell.” Another pull. 

“Trying to drown yourself before Night comes up with something worse?” Dash leered. 

“Hey, filly is intense.” 

“Dandy’s coming,” Peter supplied, amused. Pinkie perked up but the others looked confused. “Aw nuts, uh, Iron Hoof.” 

“So he’ll calm ‘er down,” Applejack said, trying not to sound too hopeful. Peter hesitated then made a non-comital grunt. 


***


Twilight shook her head and considered the guest list. 


The Thing 


Sue and Reed (maybe) 



The Hex-Ponies 


Which Peter had said could mean either Timberwolf and a few tagalongs or every Hex-team ever, but hey, the bigger the pot, the better.  


Deerdevil 



The Falcon 



Power-Zebra



Iron Hoof



Arrowhead


Mockingbird


Scarlet Whisper


The Vision 


Captain Adventure 



Captain Marvel


Captain Universe 


She dutifully put down Misty Night and Crimson Wings’ names, then, remembering not everypony in the business knew Peter’s secret identity, added Spider-Pony. 

Even with some ‘maybes’ it sounded like a busy evening, including her, AJ, Dash and Rarity getting in on the action. She smirked slightly at the mental image of facing down Peter in the final round. Organizing all this for him at the drop of a hat and then winning the blasted thing? Oh yeah. 

She realised she’d put Iron Hoof’s name above the attending members of the Befrienders and winced, wondering if she should change that. For one thing it wasn’t in alphabetical order. Rainbow and Applejack’s bohemian tendencies rubbing off on her no doubt! But more pressingly…

Antimony ‘Tony’ Spark, the ever so modestly self-described Invincible Iron Mage, was still on the outs with his former teammates and most of the hero community, from what she remembered. She couldn’t blame them. Spark had come forward with the fact he’d founded the Befrienders to essentially spy on its members, in case they were dangerous. Some villain had found out and taken advantage. 

Spark wasn’t attending this year’s game, and no wonder. Twilight knew she’d have been hurting. Still, it was sad. A team could be pragmatic, reformat. If the months since Tirek had taught the Elements anything it was that friendships were wonderful, but not so easy to repair. 

What strange lives these ponies lead. Well, they’re not all ponies, but they ARE people. Maybe this’ll be good for us. 

She looked guiltily at Spike, who was now unnecessarily trying to help Pinkie line up the perfect party mix, as if she hadn’t thrown it together hours ago. 

And maybe being around all these heroes will make Spike feel safer.

Should I have told him about that stupid box? It was for Peter’s peace of mind, he’d have understood. But I didn’t want him to feel…whatever he’s feeling now! 

(Which he wouldn’t if you’d ponied up and done it before now.) Shut up! 

Ugh, I need to get in a party mood. Can’t just go hide in bed now, I made such a show of us joining in. And you’d better believe we’re going to talk about this, Peter Trotter! You too, Johnnycake Storm! 

Ooh, this feels good. I can use this. Sure, it’s totally my brain throwing up something to avoid the Spike problem but on the other hoof, I DO want to bonk their heads together.

“Sugar cube…” Applejack said from a long way away. 

Twilight turned to blink at her, then followed the farm pony’s gaze to her chalk, which had started doodling an X)-faced Alicorn, her stick figure forelegs attached to two scared D8-looking pony heads with familiar manes. 

Worse, over Princess Doodle-Corn’s shoulder the chalk had started on some mass times velocity equations. Twilight chuckled, hastily erasing all of it. 

“Normal!” she squawked. 

Applejack blinked at her. 

“I’m normal,” Twilight clarified. “Yes.” 

Then somepony screamed. Fluttershy! 


15


The tiger crashed through a park, sending terrified Pegasi into the air like pigeons, forcing Johnny to arc widely. One mercy was pedestrian airspace wasn’t as busy during the night, but this was still Manehattan. The further out of the Financial District this got the higher the odds of a civilian collision, especially if Lyja got airborne. 

Come to that, civilians on the ground weren’t exactly safe either. 

He looked up and felt his blood go cold under his blazing epidermis. Lyja was weaving across the road towards the Equitable Building. 

Sue loves going there. The offices on the upper floors have that fancy bank smell. Reed made her a scent bottle that squirts it for her birthday. Her favourite restaurant is in there. She loves their cheesecake. She’d kill for it. She’d kill ME. 

What if SHE’S in there? 

Terror is a one mother of an innovator. In a sudden burst a blazing, brick red fire lion was snarling in front of the Skrull-tiger. Lyja skidded, the tiger’s startled yowling becoming her own voice as she spontaneously shifted back to her true shape, her hooves going every which way as she tried to stop herself. 

The lion collapsed into epidermal fragments and sparks as the Torch swooped around her, his contrail forming a spiralling cage. 

“Sorry,” he smirked, indicating the nearby doors with his head, “too many chins and this is a respectable establishment, can’t let ya in.” 

“Too mainstream anyway,” Lyja smirked back, “think I’ll try somewhere more underground.”

The Torch floated closer as the flames of his cage grew hotter. Lyja winced, turning her face away behind a raised foreleg. 

“Putting you under has a lot of appeal,” Johnny warned. “If you want to make it easier on yourself then don’t wait until E.U.P. processing: what’ve you done with the real Aurora Sheen?” 

“Back up,” Lyja retorted. 

The Torch glared, plasma sheathed eyes glowing brighter than his flames, but relented. A blue edge to the flame spiral faded out as they inched away from the Skrull. Lyja sighed, mopping her brow. 

“Where is she?” Johnny reiterated. 

Lyja hesitated, considering him. “You liked her, huh?”

“Don’t.”

“How long have you known?” 

The Torch simply wafted in the air for a beat. 

“Since you showed up on my doorstep.” 

“What gave me away?”

“Where’s the real Aurora Sheen?” 

Lyja’s mouth curled at a corner. Might’ve been a smile, might’ve been a sneer. The Skrull race’s elfin countenance made it hard to tell without her showing teeth. “Did you at least like the ice cream?”

“Wonderbolts en route, Lyja. Last chance.”  

“Oh Johnny!” she cooed. “The game isn’t anywhere near over yet! You said it yourself, you’re my meal ticket.” She raised a warning hoof, glowing with her power, as he angrily floated closer again. “Now now! All those gas mains and the like, you could hurt somepony.” 

“Gas?” 

“I’m hurt, Johnny! I thought you noticed my little clubbing allusion. I tailored it to you and everything! Underground?”

Johnny’s eyes followed her still glowing hoof as she lowered it. Her other forehoof was lit up too. All her hooves. And she was standing on a steam vent. 

He blinked as Lyja became a slightly too large lizard, her paws still glowing, smoke rising from the melting grate bars. She winked one glowing, reptilian eye. And dropped into darkness. 

Johnny dived through his cage, reabsorbing the flames and hesitated above a mildew smelling stone floor. Even lit up the darkness of the tunnel was oppressive, like the cramped space. No sign of Lyja, but she’d not been subtle before. Gas mains. So many pipes around him, probably for steam, but she’d know he couldn’t be sure. 

Johnny felt strangely calm as he carefully drifted towards the sound of flowing water, taking in the three open tunnel mouth of a sewer junction and a complete absence of lizard or Skrull. Losing her had always been a possibility. 

Which was why he’d made sure to know exactly where to find her this time. 

This time was going to be different.


16


Then somepony screamed. Fluttershy! 

Dash was in the air instantly, her lounger overturning. Peter sprang onto the table in a combat crouch, Applejack almost skidding into Rarity as she raced over. Unnoticed by anypony, Discord’s head burst out of the fridge, looking around wildly. 

Fluttershy had been arranging some decorations around the balcony when a horned shadow had landed on the railing. Now she was backing into the room, hesitating as she recognized it for what it was. “Oh,” she said. “Sorry!” 

She turned to look at Peter over her shoulder. “Um. It’s for you?”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” the deer said, stepping into the light. He gave Fluttershy a crooked but abashed smile, the confused faces of her friends reflecting in his dark glasses. 

Peter straightened up and sprang off the table. “Matt? Hey!” 

He trotted up to clasp the deer’s extending foreleg. Discord rolled his eyes and primly pulled the fridge shut.  

“Peter,” Matt Maplewood said, nodding around the room. “Ladies. Spike, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” the dragon agreed. “Hi?” 

“Mr. Maplewood!” Rarity breezed up for a hoofshake. “A pleasure to see you again.” 

“Ms. Belle.” At least he didn’t try to kiss her hoof. “Heard you ladies would be hosting this year. Glad to confirm it. Sorry again for the surprise, came over the roofs, was trying to be discreet.” 

Applejack rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t exactly blame Rarity. Maplewood wasn’t her type, but the guy clearly looked after himself. Good build. Solid but sleek. And the aesthetics! 

The reddish-brown tint of his coat with all those neat black patches, almost like inked on shadows, moving when he did. And pretty nicely set off by a white patch around his muzzle and his neatly cut orange-red hair. Framed it all real nice. His antlers weren’t as dynamic as the ones on his mask, but short and sleek enough. 

Thing was, Matt also came off like how Johnny would if he knew what he was doing, especially around a mare like Rarity. Who seemed to be trying to be just as bad to match him.

“You’re…not in costume,” Peter said carefully. 

Indeed not. Matt seemed to be in a business-casual mood tonight, wearing a black suit jacket over a simple red t-shirt. One of several he’d had printed recently, red to provide a background for the white letters ‘I'm Not Deer Devil.’ 





It was so striking you barely noticed his saddlebag or his cane, looped by a red strap around one foreleg. 

“Trying something out,” Matt smiled. 

Applejack and Twilight exchanged one of their Designated Sensible Ones glances. 

Matt Maplewood was good company when he wasn’t in a brooding mood, which you could have forgiven him for adopting full time since it was only a year and a half ago his secret identity had been leaked to the press. 


***


Of course the firm of Mason & Maplewood had been investigated, but to no definitive proof. Matt had been placed under protective custody for a while, coinciding with a rash of other creatures in Deerdevil costumes. 

Was he the Deer Without Fear? Medical examination proved he was blind, but could the docs have been in on it? If this guy was ol’ Horn Head how come the papers showed the Scarlet Swashbuckler kidnapping him? Was it true Fierce Wisdom, the alleged  Crime King, was anonymously paying his legal fees? So how come there was all those folks saying they got in a fight in some restaurant? (Others said it was on a freeway.) Didn’t Maplewood have an identical twin brother or something?  

Manehattan hadn’t known what to think, fascinated by this latest chapter of one of its urban legends. Princess Celestia’s official statement was that every citizen of Equestria, vigilante or not, was entitled to protection under the law, and had advised the city to drop the wheel spinning mess to focus on less high profile but just as vital everyday cases. 

Matt (though not the faux-Devils, apparently) had vanished for months (or, if you wanted to give yourself a headache, maybe Matt used their existence as cover to get his hero groove back?) before resuming something of his old existence with this new…attitude. 

From what Peter had confided to Twilight, his old friend seemed to be banking on the press losing interest now that ‘Deerdevil Exposed!’ wasn’t the hot story anymore, meaning nopony cared if Matt Maplewood and Deerdevil were the same or not. Hence his, ahem, devil may care approach to life. 

Such as making and actually wearing those shirts, which were also allegedly supplementing his income now that his law career was in flux. Technically Matt wasn’t disbarred, but in some ways he may as well have been. Judges raised eyebrows at the prospect of a vigilante arguing cases and any opposition was fully prepared to bring it up, fact or not. 

Mason & Maplewood was mostly Mason these days, with Matt stepping back to act as a legal advisor, coaching clients to represent themselves. Which didn’t pay nearly as well, even if the partners’ client list had doubled. After all, if he was Deerdevil…

In either identity, Matt seemed determined to make the most of his new situation, trying out new things, cooking, music, dancing, and flirting. Both with interested parties like Rarity and how exposed he now was. After all, if he wasn’t Deerdevil he was simply a quirky resident of Hob’s Garden, having a good laugh over a case of mistaken identity. 

If he was…wanna make something of it? 

So. Since Matt was one of Peter’s friends there were now higher odds of the Elements meeting him in more social circumstances. Deerdevil had worked with Pinkie Pie a few times, not as odd a pairing as you’d think, and Rarity certainly seemed willing to play whatever game was going on between them. Dash was very pro ‘Without Fear’. Hay, worse friends to have in a scap than a lawyer. Who could tell if anypony was lying to you. And knew kung fu! Matt had many sterling qualities. 

He might also be having a very gradual nervous breakdown. 


***


“Hi ya, Mr. Red!” Pinkie said, using the nickname she’d given the hero.  

“And a very good evening to you, Pinkie Pie!” Matt beamed, hugging her suddenly. Pinkie was as caught off guard as everypony else but returned it enthusiastically. 

He can hear heartbeats, Twilight thought as Matt promptly straightened up, simply patting Pinkie’s shoulder, pulse rates, changes in breathing. He knows how we just reacted to that better than we do. He’s fully aware how nervous he’s making me, and he’s known Peter for years. 

“Didn’t know you were taking this year so seriously, Peter,” Matt said, still casual. 

“Well yeah, it’s not over yet,” Peter retorted, smirking for a beat. “Oh, you meant poker night.” 

“I meant you don’t usually call in the Elements unless you’re totally out of your depth. Granted, they’re good people and you’re you, but...”

“I don’t—!” Peter began to protest, and stopped because he felt Twilight, Applejack, Rarity and Dash’s eyes snapping onto him. “They’ve, uh, agreed to join us. And this is all them.” He waved at the room, tables and decorations, then froze. 

“I can read the room,” Matt said smoothly. “Though I didn’t expect it to be so quiet.”

“Oh, I can turn down--” Pinkie began, turning towards her sound system. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Matt chuckled, waving her to a stop. “I meant I can’t pick up the Torch, nowhere on the block. When’s Johnny checking in?”

“Who knows?” Peter sighed. 

“Who cares?” Dash supplied. “He dumped all of this on us.” She waved pointedly at Peter.

“Let’s hope you’re that quick when the cards start flying,” Peter retorted. 

“Care to have a lil’ gentle-mare’s wager on it?” Dash simpered, leaning into his face. “Or should I just shove your hoof in your mouth now to save time?”

“On that note,” Matt chuckled, reaching into his bag. He passed Peter a crimson money pouch, which the pony had to quickly catch with his other hoof because it was just a little too large to be balanced in one pad. 

Peter raised an eyebrow and pulled the draw string with his teeth, Applejack and Dash craning over his shoulders to see inside. Their eyes widened to almost the size of the gems.

“For the pot,” Matt said cheerfully, probably enjoying the beats their hearts all skipped. 

“Whoa,” Spike said, hungrily. 

“People really like those shirts,” Matt smiled. 

Everyone turned, surprised as an appreciative whistle came not from Applejack but Rarity. “What? I’m the sophisticated one so I can’t express simple sentiments?” 

Twilight telekinetically pulled the bag shut again and levitated it into one of the bowls on a table, symbolizing the collective pot for the night. “Thank you, Mr. Maplewood.”

“Matt please, Princess.”

“Oh, of course, but only if you call me Twilight!” 

“I’d be delighted.” Matt turned to Fluttershy and held out his hoof as if for a shake. “And I’d like to apologize, Ms. Fluttershy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, that’s--” Fluttershy began, stopping mid-reach as the stag flipped his cane into his hoof. Matt performed some sort of twist with the handle and it became his signature set of billy clubs. Fluttershy blinked as he flourished one to her and some flowers sprouted out of the head. “Oh! Gosh, thank you. These are some of my favourites!” 

“Luck of the devil, I suppose,” smiled Matt, a deer who could smell not only what kinds of fields someone spent their time in but also what the weather had been like. 

Rarity made a bit of a face as Fluttershy accepted the offering but not for long, as Matt offered her the other club, sprouting a bouquet of her favourites. Peter’s face was a mix of resigned and curious. It had been a while since Matt used that hidden compartment feature, usually for red coloured smoke to disorientate opponents. 

“Thanks,” Dash deadpanned, less easily impressed, as Matt offered up her favourites. She took the bouquet and pointedly took a bite out of it. 

“Since we’re ponyin’ up an’ all,” Applejack said, making it clear she wasn’t interested either. “How’s about we share a table? Not everyday ya get to play against a livin’ lie detector. Hay of a challenge.” 

She retrieved her own pay in, a small transparent bag of gems taken from the Bank of Ponyville earlier that evening, and lobbed it onto Matt’s table before Twilight could reach for it. 

“My pleasure,” Matt agreed. 

“I should probably start drawing up the brackets,” Twilight said, telekinetically accepting Dash, Rarity and Peter’s pay ins. 

She gave him a look over her shoulder as she put them in the same bracket. Matt smirked, raising an eyebrow over his glasses as Peter gulped. 

Spike padded up to Matt, trying not to fidget and not quite willing to break off his conversation with Pinkie, but somewhat motivated because it was also with Rarity, who was trying to draw him into a secluded corner. The stag turned to him, sensing his presence, waiting politely. 

“Hey, uh, Mr…Deer?”

“You can call me Matt, Spike.” 

Rarity smiled at that. 

“Cool. Uh, listen, this might be kinda tacky, but, well, don’t suppose you’d…that is if it’d be okay wouldja mind…?” Spike fumbled with his autograph book. 

“Spike’s my go to whenever I have to gussy up my store,” Rarity cut in. “And a great help tonight. He deserves a lot more, but he’s generously prepared to settle for a few autographs.” 

“My pleasure,” Matt said and held out his club. A flick and it now had the nib of a pen. 

“Wow. Thanks!” Spike admired the neat scrawl. “Heh, I like how your Ds have little horns.” 

“That way nobody suspects my real identity,” Matt smiled. “I hope the autograph hunt goes well. Pro tip, Timber’ll be happy to oblige but wait until the rest of the Hex-Ponies arrive.” 

“Uh, okay?” Spike squinted, sharing mystified looks with Rarity. 

He headed over to the tables to do one last inspection, where Dash was having a not-argument with Peter and Twilight. Peter waved Spike down, keeping an eye on Matt, who was talking to Applejack now but could still hear a concealed crossbow being loaded five blocks away. 

“We have a gentle-mare’s wager,” Dash stated bluntly, “even if he is trying to get out of it.”

“Am not,” Peter said, pointing to Spike’s autograph book. “And no we don’t!” 

“Not with that attitude.” 

“I’m not arguing about this,” Twilight said. “I’m facing him first. End of discussion.” 

“Thanks, honey,” Peter said dryly as Spike held up his fresh autograph. 

“Yours is still at home, man,” Spike assured. 

“Oh, it’s not that.” Peter looked guiltily at Matt, laughing at something Pinkie had said. He squinted at the stag’s message, not sure how to feel. 


To Matt’s friend Spike, 
DeerDevil


Matt was one of his oldest friends in the business and Peter would be lying if he said the zen master of Hob’s Garden routine never got under his coat. It was fun to bust schomes with the audacious, insouciant in the face of danger, Hey,-Look-At-What-I-Can-Do-With-My-Sticks Deerdevil he remembered from their early days, but was it a regression? Or something more? 

Best part, he didn’t have much room to judge; he wasn’t the one having to handle this nightmare scenario. At least Matt had coping mechanisms.

‘Matt’s friend’, though. Those shirts. 

“You’ll have your whole lives together,” Rainbow Dash was countering. 

“Seriously?” Twilight squinted. 

“No, I’m sayin’ stuff’ll add up.”

“True, but I’m mad now.”

“Wait.” Peter turned to her, handing Spike his book back. “You’re mad?”

Twilight’s eyes flashed solid purple. 

“Smooth,” Dash breezed. 

“No, I mean,” Peter clarified hurriedly, waving at the board. “I thought we were in the same bracket.”

“Oh yes,” Twilight said coldly. 

“So we aren’t teaming up?”

“…in a poker game?”

“It happens!” 

“No, we are not teaming up! You wanted me here, you can try your luck against me!” 

“Uh, no he can’t,” Dash insisted, “because I’m gonna win that side bet so hard he’ll wake up in a dumpster missing a kidney.”

They all blinked at her. 

“Just because poker’s a game doesn’t mean I’m playing around.” 

“It’s not happening, Rainbow,” Twilight said. 

“Thanks, honey.”

“You hush. I don’t care if I make it to Mr. Grim’s table, Johnny’s not here and Peter is, so he’s mine.” 

Dash considered the board for a beat, turning back before Spike could escape. “Okay, how about we double team him?” 

“Go on,” Twilight prompted as Peter’s eyes widened. 

“Eh, pretty basic. Put us in the same bracket, we both get what we want and have fun doing it. At his expense.” 

“You’re a true friend, Rainbow Dash.” Twilight reached out and shook her hoof as Peter facehoofed. 


***


Twilight began redrawing the brackets, which she’d adjust as more guests arrived. Not everypony would be playing and the Thing, founder and last year’s winner, would be sitting most of the game out until the final round. 

There was a thumping outside, then everypony but Matt flinched as somepony rapped at the door. It sounded like a log being swung against the door’s own wood. 

“It’s Timber,” Matt supplied, refilling Rarity’s drink. 

Peter opened his mouth, looking relived, then thought about it and slumped a little. The knocking started up again. He performed a Spidey-leap across the room and unlocked the door. “Timber,” he said, voice neutral. 

“Kid.” 

The other Earth Pony’s voice wasn’t a growl or a rumble exactly, more like…well, what you’d get if a timber wolf could talk. Earthy. Prowling. It felt like it was coming deep down from inside a chest far bigger than its owner. 

The Elements regarded the figure on the doorstep as Peter stepped aside. They’d rarely seen him out of costume, which…might be some tatters dangling from his neck, but they recognised his blue grey coat and of course his tangled, navy and cobalt streaked mane. It followed the curves of his face almost like a lion’s and swept up past his ears, practically into points. 

Timberwolf, best there was at what he did, was about Peter’s size, a little under the Equestrian stallion average, but stockier than the Spider-Pony. Compact was probably a good word, and Peter would’ve taken full advantage of an opportunity to say Timber was full of it.  


***


The two actually worked together a lot, like…a lot a lot, and worked well, but the magic of friendship would have its work cut out. Their respective rebellious streaks always scraped off each other. Without lives on the line, they didn’t have that many reasons to tamp it down. 

Twilight tried not to bite her lip. 

Full disclosure, yes, Timberwolf made her nervous but mainly because she’d seen him in action, and he seemed the type that would take that as a compliment. He’d actually struck her as a sort of gruffly sociable and even a little cheeky…when he wasn’t snarling like his namesake and hacking automatons to ribbons with his indestructible claws. 

Once you heard that distinctive SNIKT you could never forget it. 

She knew from many, many hours of Peter kvetching about the other hero that he respected Timber’s altruism but deplored his more, uh…extreme methods, even as simple scare tactics. She wasn’t sure how to feel about them herself. The Hex-Pony made no secret of being prepared to use those claws of his for more than just disarming an enemy if he thought it was necessary, seeming only to hold back in most cases out of respect of his team’s sensibilities. 

On the other hoof, she and Peter had methods of restraining enemies that other ponies didn’t, and while he didn’t seem as socially conscious as the rest of the Hex-Ponies Timberwolf was still a Hex-Breed. An Exquestrian. What you saw certain types of paper refer to as ‘The Mutant Menace’. The distrust he faced was very different from Spider-Pony or Deerdevil’s relatively simple masked vigilantism. 

And it wasn’t like Princess Celestia’s faithful student, who’d only had to think about a real job at age 17 because her parents had read magazines with phrases like ‘building character’, could comment much on any of their situations.


***


Timber also looked shorter than he actually was because of a large crate full of bottles on his back. Peter stepped aside and raised an eyebrow as it clanked past his nose. Small Folk Ale declared the labels. 

Timber’s chartreuse yellow eyes, slightly more canine than pony, swept the room once. Other than pausing on the sound system, furrowing his brow at the (insert old timey pejoratives here) the kids were listenin’ to these days, his expression was as impassive as ever. Sometimes you had to wonder why he bothered with a mask at all. 

“Hey,” Dash said, raising a hoof in greeting. “Long time no see.”

Timber nodded back. “Thought I recognised your scent, kid. Evenin’ all. Maplewood.” 

“Timber,” the lawyer acknowledged, saluting with his drink. 

It wasn’t just the crate. Timber’s body language, even at trotting pace, could put you in mind of a stalking wolf or lion. As he got closer, they could make out the sharper than normal slits of his nose, apparently as good if not better than Deerdevil’s own. 

The Elements tried not to stare at six streaks around the tips of his hooves. They knew what those were for. 

“Uh, wanna hoof with that?” Applejack asked, indicating the crate. 

“’S all good.” 

Timber turned, sliding the crate off his back and onto the counter. Everypony flinched at the clanging glass. Now they were trying not to stare at his cutie mark. It was two shadows, similar to the eye/ear segments of his mask, even coming with glaring white eyes of their own, but over it…it was a faint character, 蹄, directly over his mark. A brand? A tattoo? A burn? It didn’t look natural and almost like it should be glowing. 

Timber was fishing around inside the crate now and pulled out a folded scrap of leather. It smelled like him, not unpleasant but foresty, metallic, and very present. “Pay in,” he explained, holding it up. “Pot?”

“I’ll get that,” Twilight said quickly, smiling and taking it in her field. 

Timber nodded and pulled out a bottle of Small Folk. He pulled the cork with his teeth and spat it into the crate, reminding Applejack and Rainbow Dash why they didn’t mind teaming up with the guy. He turned to Rarity, surprised as she stepped up and held out a hoof. 

“Lovely to see you again, Mr. Timber.” Her smile became more genuine. “I know I must’ve thanked you for looking after Sweetie Belle during that one…incident a while ago, but I’d like to again.”

“All part’a the service, darlin’,” the Hex-Pony smiled, accepting her hoof. “You joinin’ in tonight?”

“Oh, depend upon it, darling,” Rarity chuckled. “Don’t expect me to take it easy on you!” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Timber smirked, and relaxed against the counter with his brew. “Nice digs ya got here, kid. Doesn’t smell’a burnin’ as much as I’d figure. Where’s the matchstick, by the way?”

“Sitting this one out,” Peter said. “How about you guys? I know it’s a long way to come from San Foalsisco, it’s cool if not everypony can make it.” 

“Eh, everypony could use a break. ’Sides, Summers ‘n’ Chuck’re all about tradition.”

“Wait.” Peter perked up. “Cyclops is coming? Are…are we gonna get to see Sweater Vest Slim?!”    

Timber made an affirmative grunt and took another swig. 

“Who’s that?” Pinkie asked. “They sound fun!” 

“Sweater vests sound fun to you?” Dash asked. 

“If ponies have fun wearing them, sure!” 

“It’s awesome,” Peter enthused. “Slim Summers, y’know, Cyclops, guy with the…” He mimed a visor over his face. “See most ponies assume he must be a big stiff all the time, right, but no, get togethers like this he always makes an effort. It’s weird because he’s so tame but he’s putting so much energy into it, it’s super endearing, and oh man, he always, always comes in this mind-bending sweater vest! Rarity, wait’ll you see it, it’s like accessing the 5th dimension in yarn!” 

Rarity chuckled uncertainly. 

“So anyway,” Timber resumed, “him ‘n’ Jeanie, naturally--”

The Elements and Spike turned to Twilight instantly, who hadn’t moved because she’d started projecting a hardening, ceramic kind of aura. “Oh,” she said carefully. “Je Ne Ce Quoi. 'Call me Jean!' Her. That’s nice.” 

“An’ her an’ Ororo an’ the Elf an’ Hank an’ the ice cube, maybe the Cajun if he’s on the continent right now.” 

“Gambit?” Peter asked, glancing at Matt. “Huh. That’ll be interesting. Be good to see Rocky again.” 

“Yep.” 

“Dunno who most’ve those names’re supposed to be,” Applejack supplied, “but if they’re friends of yours then we’ll be happy to deal ‘em in. Won’t we, Twi?” 

“I won’t start anything if she won’t,” Twilight said primly. Timber looked amused. Matt, aware he was missing something, turned to Peter, who desperately shook his head. He silently prayed Twilight wouldn’t put herself and the psychic in the same bracket. 

“So how’s the Hex-biz these days?” Dash asked, perching on the counter next to Timber. 

“Eh. Foalsisco’s changed since my time, but the kids’re settelin’ in an’ that’s the main thing. Princess is dealin’ with this plan to kick us off the EEA, but we’re still an official school an’ everythin’. Couple rescues here, giant robots there, y’know how it is.” 

“The EEA,” Matt prompted, stepping forward. “Is it breed related? If you need any help, I have a licence to practice in Stallifornia.”

“It is what it is, bub, but Summers probably won’t say no. You can hash it out once the Blackbird’s parked.” Timber tossed his bottle into the recycling bin without looking and pulled out another. “Speakin’ of, clock’s tickin’. Shouldn’t you two get your party suits on, or are we gonna look like normal people for a change?” 

He said this while scratching his ear with his hindleg. 

“Suit…?” Spike’s eyes went wide. “Oh crud!” 

He spun on his tail and raced to the hall. The adults looked at each other. 

Matt shrugged. “Bathroom?” he asked Peter. 

“Uh, on the left,” Peter said, indicating the hall door with his tail. He was focused on Spike throwing the right-side closet door open and scrambling to climb over the mountains of junk 616B’s occupants had filled it with. 

Matt saluted the group with his drink, finished it and trotted off. Twilight and Applejack followed, heading for Spike. 

“I should get changed though, yeah,” Peter decided, popping his neck. 

“I’m so sorry!” Spike called from the closet. 

“…why?” Peter asked. 

“The washer, I completely forgot about it!”

“What washer?”

“Your washer,” Twilight shot back, standing by the door. “Clearly.”

A beat, everypony looking at Peter. 

“…we have a washer?” he asked the universe in general.

Twilight let out a restrained variant of her “UUUGH!” noise and levitated some junk out of the way. Peter looked sheepish. 

Spike came scrambling back out, holding something wet smelling in his paws. “I’m so sorry, Pete! I was just so busy checking on everything and then people started showing up, and, uh…”

Peter trotted over to take a look. At first he thought it was a set of Spike’s clothes, but the dragon hadn’t brought any over and apart from his Winter and formal wear he didn’t have much need of a wardrobe. The stretch of blue and red drying in his paws looked like it’d do for a teddy bear. 

Blue and red…

“Oh,” Peter said simply. 

He held out a hoof, mesmerised. Spike slid the shrunken Spider-Pony costume into his pad, equally transfixed. 

Timberwolf let out a barking sound. He was laughing, mixed with Rainbow Dash’s own howls as she toppled off the counter. 

“All good, Spike,” Peter assured, smiling. “I’ll just slip into my spare--”

“Nooooo you won’t, darling,” Rarity said, staring calculatingly into the distance. Peter turned to her. “Because you don’t have one.” 

“What?”

“You don’t have a spare costume,” Rarity clarified. “When we were casing…ahem, that is cleaning out your room I took a tiiiiny little itty-bitty peek in your closet. You’ve got some gloves, boots and an extra mask—all of which could do with a good cleaning, I must say—but no, you don’t have a full set. Spider-Pony: Not Right Now, as it were.” 

Peter stared at her as Rainbow Dash’s laughter redoubled. Twilight’s horn flashed, sealing the Pegasus inside a muffling bubble as she began to pound the floor. She trotted up to Spike, putting a hoof on his shoulder as Peter’s eyes began to track desperately back and forth. 

“I’m sure everypony won’t mind,” Fluttershy tried. 

“Yeah,” Pinkie agreed. “Hay, I forget to put on clothes all the time!”

“Not everypony in the business knows who I am,” Peter said, sounding like he was about to fall into a ravine. 

“Oh for…” Applejack bit down on the countryisim and adjusted her Stetson. “Will it matter? This is your place an’ all. Johnny bailed, his roomie stepped up, sounds clean cut to me.” 

“I don’t need that much attention!” Peter snapped. 

“I’m so sorry,” Spike repeated. 

“I can’t…” Peter ran a hoof through his mane. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No, and if I, that is, Spidey doesn’t show up people will wanna know why, and I can’t lie about some villain or whatever. Misty Night’s coming, she’ll check, Jean’s a mind reader. Ugh, but I’ve gotta keep the business out of my personal life, so many ponies know already!” 

“Ain’t a picknick for me either if that helps, bub,” Timber said casually. 

“Oh, shut up!”

“I could, uh, I could make you another?” Spike asked. “I mean, Rarity could maybe--”

“Not without a lot of extra fabric and even more time,” Rarity said. 

“It’s okay, Spike,” Twilight assured, patting his shoulders and leaning towards Peter to enunciate. “Isn’t it, Peter?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Peter was staring into the distance and danced a sudden jig of desperate inspiration. “Spike! Uh, Twilight! Both of you! Your place! We keep a spare at the castle!” 

“Well ain’t you movin’ up in the world,” Timber smirked. 

“How about I move my hoof upside your muttonchoped head, you--”

“Uh,” Twilight said, eyes desperately scanning the floor. “Uh. Good plan, dear, but. Uh.”

Peter followed her gaze, then began to turn around and around in place, coming to the same realisation. 

616B had been dolled up for poker night, its layout now disguised under tables and decorations. Twilight’s love portal back to Ponyville could technically be opened anywhere in Peter’s home, or any space they shared, magic, the point was it was advisable to do it in the centre of a room with plenty of space, a 3rd/4th dimensional all hooves and tails inside the ride at all times kind of deal. 

Twilight couldn’t make out her usual space, which was probably somewhere under Rarity’s rug, but there was so much occupying the living room now. They’d need some time to clear it, which would mean rearranging all the party stuff, and time was—

There was a knock at the door. 

Beat. Another knock. 

“Stall them,” Twilight and Peter said in sync. 

“How?” Rarity, Applejack and Spike asked at once. Dash was too busy laughing in her field. 

“Seems more like you need a good distraction,” Timber said idly. “A real good distraction.” 

The bathroom door swung open, and Matt casually trotted out. Everypony stared at him with varying expressions as Dash finally stopped laughing. Timberwolf simply raised an eyebrow. 

“A distraction, you say,” Deerdevil said pleasantly. 

He was wearing his full scarlet and crimson devil costume. And over that, his I'm Not Deerdevil shirt.


17


The hotel wasn’t the Ritz but was ritzy enough for her needs. 

She inhaled, squeezing her eyes shut as she trotted up the steps, savouring the feel of the red velvet and the scent of (moderate) success. What a day! 

“Long day, ma’am?” Door Handel the door pony asked. 

“Oh Handy, you have no idea. Any mail?” 

“Uh, while ago, yeah. Housekeeping took it up. If you check with reception the café’d be happy to send a cup of something up as well?” 

“Maybe after a shower, you absolute dream of a dear.” 

They looked after you here. Well, they looked after Ms. Imagine Berry here. 

She didn’t ask at reception, the best thing after a shower would be to relax in the in-house café’s cappuccino foam and faux-marble atmosphere, like a spa. Her legs could certainly use it, sweet suns. That run. She’d have to hit the gym later, maybe change first. Less ponies keeping track of her movements the better, but she couldn’t let tonight weigh her down. She needed to keep herself sharp while she laid low. 

She trotted to the line at the elevators, trying not to let her hair down too much. 

“Ms. Berry,” greeted a Pegasus business pony.

“Ms. Charter.”

“How goes…what is it you do again, sorry?” 

“Oh, hardly matters,” she said, suppressing a yawn. Stars, she was crashing. “I don’t know if I’m going to be doing it for a while.” 

The elevator dinged and up she went. 


***


She waited until the snob and the drone who handled the thing were behind the doors before enjoying another inhale, filling herself with the smell of her floor. Her floor. One she’d picked for tonight, one of several she could have all over this so-called Kingdom whenever she wanted. 

Yes, a shower, maybe a nap, some room service. Change and take in some nightlife? She did deserve it, date night turning into…whatever that was. That was the benefit of her assignment. She could twist it into what she wanted it to be. 

Hmm, no sign of the package by the door. (Her door!) Maybe she could complain, just for the fun of it. No, pointless to draw the attention, and she liked the place well enough to put up with the staff. She’d left her key in her stash, but the sun would go out before she couldn’t pick an Equestrian lock. 

She hesitated in the darkness. Smell of outside air even though she was sure the windows were shut. Could house keeping have opened one? If they’d made off with her package…

Which she didn’t remember ordering. 

She hit the lights as fast as she could, not crying out when she saw him sitting on his haunches in the living room. 

He kicked the box at his hooves towards her, but it wasn’t a combat move. She stared down at it, at the terrible sight of her other name, then up at him. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look happy either. 

“Who do you think—?!” she began, but it petered out as she looked into his eyes. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t know, what was the point. 

She wiped the look of surprise off her face and began to adopt a combat stance, but she could feel her body starting to shake. Not from fear, she’d never be afraid of him, but he was so still. He looked so tired. She didn’t know what was happening. 

“Alright Lyja,” Johnny Storm said quietly. “How're we really playing this?” 


To be Continued 

> Two Flare (5)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


18


And unto the Beast was given a mouth to utter haughty and blasphemous words for a game of 52 pickup, and he opened with: “Greetings and salutations, true believers!” 

“Dr. McColt!” Twilight exclaimed with delight, looking up from some notes she’d been making with Peter on a free table. “How nice to…see you.”

She trailed off because she’d seen who was coming in behind him. The pause was so palpable the rest of the guests looked over. Applejack just quietly shut her eyes, resigned. 

“Princess,” Je Ne ‘Jean’ Sais Quoi AKA The Phoenix said, a little stiffly. She covered by looking around the room, beaming. “Everypony.” 

‘Everypony’ in this instance included Peter, Spike, the Elements, Timberwolf, a t-shirt wearing Deerdevil, and the loosely associated partnership of Duke Cage, Iron Hoof and the Daughters of the Dragon. 

Peter wondered if he was sweating. His forehead was definitely prickling. Dr. Hackney Sheepshank ‘Hank’ McColt and Jean were joined by Rocky Cake/Ice-Pony and Slim Summers/Cyclops, which made sense if you knew they were four of Professor Endeavour’s first Hex-Pony class. He and Johnny had developed a sort of unspoken, angsty teen solidarity with them back in the day, to the point he’d been okay with Rocky learning his real name. 

The problem wasn’t that he respected Rocky’s fellow Hex-Ponies any less, it was that this meant out of all of the superheroes now in his apartment, only three knew his name. Codename. Whatever! The point was the longer he stayed (in his own apartment, because ‘fair’ could easily be replaced with another four-letter word beginning with ‘f’) the more his presence and Spider-Pony’s absence would need to be accounted for. 

And vice versa, because this wasn’t complicated enough already. 

“Jean!” Crimson Wings called, enthusiastically waving one of her namesakes. Despite his steel hard skin, Cage seemed inclined to duck away from it. Misty Night gave the Hex-mare a welcoming but abashed smile. 

“Crimson!” Jean practically shrieked, shooting from her partner’s side to waft across the room with the power of her mind and hug the other mare. 

“You know each other?” Rainbow Dash and Rarity asked in sync. 

“Through me,” Misty supplied, gesturing for another Small Folk from Timber. “We needed one more roomie for this Lower East Side place, so.” 

“Aww, that’s,” Rarity began, then saw what Cyclops was wearing and stared, finishing with a “, lovely…” that sounded like something small being stepped on. 

In action Cyclops sported a sleek, simple blue and yellow outfit with only a few X logos. His special ruby visor was a constant. The only real change seemed to be whether to go with a full head mask or a mane-showing open one like the Wonderbolts used. He was currently wearing a pair of red glasses, presumably made of the same material as his visor, and a sweater vest. The latter was what Peter had been so enthusiastic about and what was commanding Rarity’s attention. Although calling it a sweater vest felt like…underselling it. 

It looked…It was kind of…like…If you turned your head…um. 

It was as if somepony had stitched Hearth’s Warming and a Hawhinnyian luau together. Not the clothes you associated with those things. Like, the very concepts. 

Without their permission. 

“Hello,” Fluttershy said pleasantly. “Nifty sweater!”

“Thank you,” Summers smiled back. He shook the hooves of those nearest, freezing as he turned to find Peter’s broad grin and sparkling eyes. Twilight winced, sympathising with how that must look in Slim’s perpetual red-world. 

“Sweater Vest Slim,” Peter squeaked with almost divine glee. 

“That’s what they call me,” Cyclops smiled awkwardly, lowering his hoof. “Sometimes. I’m sorry, who—?” 

Twilight and Peter looked at each other as Jean Ce Quoi floated back across the room, taking her partner’s foreleg to join him in looking politely yet quizzically at the strangely enthusiastic weirdo. Who they’d never met before, but somehow knew Cyclops’ party persona well enough to be a strangely enthusiastic weirdo.

“One of our peerless hosts, I would humbly presume,” the Beast said, leaning in to examine Peter with a pince-nez he’d retrieved from somewhere. “Though how he’d know your nom-de-scene, fearless leader, your resident genius must confess…I dunno.” 

“I told him,” Rocky Cake said breezily, looping a foreleg around Peter’s shoulders. Twilight gave him a grateful look. “I mean, how could I not?” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jean said, slightly relieved. “Trotter, right? Johnny mentioned you might be around.”

“Not for long!” Peter almost barked, eyes going wide. 

He saw a slight flicker across Slim and Jean’s faces and wondered if Princess Luna was in a merciful mood tonight; they thought he was yet another terrified normal pony, and for making them feel that, on a night when they were supposed to be able to relax for once, he deserved to have the moon dropped on him. 

“I’m not--” he began and promptly cut himself off because he knew how that’d sound. Even if Jean read his mind that wouldn’t sound convincing. “I mean, just, I know you folks like your privacy and all, and, ah, my aunt’s got a thing, so I’ll, ah, I’ll be out of your way in a few…uh…” 

“We’re all a little duck-hoofed tonight,” Twilight quickly cut in. “Johnnycake decided he had more important things to do and dropped tonight’s game into our laps. Well, Peter’s, but he dropped it into mine…ours! So here we all are.”

“Ah,” Jean said. She and Twilight were considering each other now. “You’re playing, Princess?” 

Twilight smiled thinly, nodding. It was a lukewarm response but anything else would probably come across as a challenge, and nopony, least of all her, needed that tonight. 

The Beast tapped a hoof to his chin. “Trotter, Trotter…Peter Trotter?” Peter nodded. “The same who took part in that Hex-Factor study? With our very own pre-princess Twilight?” 

Twilight chuckled and nodded. Rocky, still keeping a foreleg around Peter’s shoulders, looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Peter shrugged at him. He probably ought to’ve told the Ice-Pony he was joining in that study, sure, but he’d never found a way to bring it up at the time and (not that this was any better, but it was true) the life of a vigilante superpony quickly filled with so many distractions, domestic and nigh-cosmic, that he’d just plain forgotten. 

Come to that, he hadn’t even seen Rocky for a while, not until a few months back, during his and Twilight’s falling out. Ice-Pony, much to Spider-Pony and the Horseshoe Torch’s consternation, had become an accountant and now moved in totally alien financial circles with his fellow Hex-Pony founder, Archangel. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” the Beast beamed, holding out a hoof. Peter shook it. “And thank you both for your contributions.” 

“From all of us,” Cyclops added, his face hardening into the carefully blank mask of a leader. “Getting this information out there in a way non-Exquestrians will pay attention to is a big step forward.” 

The couple shared glances, confirming they both felt unsure what to make of that sentiment but certainly felt guilty for 
A) assuming the freaking Hex-Ponies wouldn’t have an extensive academic understanding of the magi-genetic phenomenon that was their own existence, 
B) why they’d need a bunch of normal little ponies like them to take it into the mainstream. 

Slim Summers smiled suddenly, pulling a neatly folded wad of vouchers out of his yellow saddlebag. “And speaking of steps, who’s ready to make those cards dance?!” 

Twilight telekinetically accepted them as a cheer went up from the guests behind them, stepping aside to allow the Beast and Cyclops to trot up to meet Timberwolf, who surprisingly clasped hooves with his leader. Those two had always struck her as a bit…terse, but fair enough, it was this community’s big night off. 

Deerdevil approached Cyclops, indicating both their shirts. The Hex-Pony’s expression changed only slightly before he laughed at whatever joke the vigilante had made. Twilight tried not to bite her lip. Matt’s tactic had worked, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It banked on flaunting how close to the edge his colleagues thought he was. 

It had served as a distraction to Peter’s continued presence so far, but it wouldn’t last long, especially as more guests arrived. Misty Night had given Peter the odd scrutinizing glance since arriving, but Twilight was certain that was just the detective’s curiosity about what kind of pony would date an Element of Harmony. 

“So how do you two know each other?” Jean asked brightly. 

Twilight turned away from watching a historic moment in bouncing history, as Pinkie Pie met the Beast, to blink at her. She felt a pang of shock when she realised the question hadn’t been addressed to her but Peter and Rocky. Peter began to stammer uncertainly, but clammed up as Rocky gave him another bro-ish foreleg hug that, by sheer coincidence, put pressure on his neck. 

“Eh, just one of those things,” Rocky said simply, “Pete works at Damage Control, Warren invests, y’know how it is.”

“And you took that E.S.U. thing back when,” Peter joined in quickly. 

“Oh, that’s great!” Jean enthused. 

“Thanks, Mom,” Rocky smirked dryly. 

“You know what I mean!” 

What had she meant, Twilight wondered. It’s great you made a civilian friend who doesn’t hate you for being born? She levitated the chalk and smiled at Jean. “Just going to add everypony. Would you and Slim Summers like to be in the same bracket, or…?”

“Oh, I’m not playing, Princess.” 

Twilight blinked. “Oh.”

“Well…” Jean scuffed the carpet. “Card game, bluffing, a telepath. People can assume things.”  

A beat. 

“Very presumptuous of them,” Twilight smiled, hoping it didn’t come across as condescending. Jean smiled back. It was a nice moment. 

Then Jean levitated something out of her own saddlebag and inadvertently set Sparkle/Phoenix relations back by decades. (An impressive feat given they’d only known of each other for about four years.) It was a tinfoil covered casserole dish. Twilight felt her wings gently rising like hackles, or smoke off a lit fuse. 

“My own little contribution!” Jean chuckled, waving her dish with the power of her mutant mind as if it was no big deal. “Just thinking of--”

“Everypony’s health,” Twilight cut in leadenly. 

A beat. 

Jean stared into the Alicorn’s eyes with surprise that steadily gave way to annoyance, like flames eating away paper. Her gaze flicked to a (currently untouched) casserole in a similar dish on the buffet table, surrounded by all those unhealthy cakes, chips, dips, and sodas. 

Twilight didn’t need to read Jean’s mind to know the telepathic/kinetic Earth Pony had brought the exact same healthy alternative she had. She’d given it to Spike to spice up a bit and Jean probably had similar help in the Hex-Ponies’ kitchen if not the skill to do it herself. 

Apartment 616B’s living room began to fill with the silent hum of two agitated telekinetics in close proximity. Unnoticed by most of the guests, condensation on bottles began to flow backwards. Molecules stretched, not enough to start anything but prepared to become…anything. 

Cyclops, telepathically sensitive to his partner’s moods, turned from a conversation with Fluttershy and Iron Hoof, concerned. Deerdevil frowned, turning from Applejack to put a hoof to his head. Rocky Cake blinked and turned at a sudden pull on his tail, finding Spike had come over to greet him and was now dragging him away from the two mares by his tail, while Peter, the coward, was already almost up against the trophy wall. 

“More for everypony,” Jean smiled stiffly. Lights in distant skyscrapers flickered as if releasing held breath. 

Twilight gave a grunt of ascent she used for obtuse peer reviewers and the Great and Powerful Trixie, smiling as the other mare primly stepped past her to avoid revealing she was grinding her teeth.

Behind her Peter lost a brief scuffle with Spike and was shoved into her potential blast radius. “Uh, honey?” 

“I’m fine,” Twilight sighed, levitating her chalk. She smiled over her shoulder. “Sorry Rocky Cake, forgot to ask, are you playing?”

“Ah, yeah,” the Ice-Pony agreed. 

“Splendid,” Twilight said, pointedly not putting him in her, Rainbow Dash, Misty Night, Cyclops and Peter’s bracket. Getting to play with ‘Sweater Vest Slim’ was the one concession her boyfriend was getting tonight. 

Rocky opened his mouth to say something, managed a non-comital swallowing noise, and fled to the relative safety of the chill out area. Jean was primly rearranging the buffet to make room for her casserole, by hoof, not with her powers, which called Rocky’s safety and its relativity into question. 

Pinkie made her excuses to the Beast, who was perched on the back of Rarity’s chair, and trotted over. “You’re going to be cool, right?” she asked. 

Twilight rolled her eyes and nodded. Applejack was looking over from her own conversation with the Daughters of the Dragon, giving a stern look that made it clear that if Pinkie wasn’t already doing this she would. More emphatically. 

“Don’t make me use the Get Along shirt, Twilight,” Pinkie insisted. “You know I will!” 

“No, no,” Twilight insisted, backing up a little, “it’s cool, I’m cool.” She went through the motions. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” 

The party pony smiled and nodded, bouncing back to her hosting duties. Twilight watched as Jean and Slim sat together on one of the couches, chatting with Rarity and the Beast now. Slim’s vest and Matt’s shirt aside, it was strange to see so many of these people out of costume. They all looked so relaxed and the other Elements were mingling very naturally. It was nice to see.

“I should,” Spike said. “Uh. Yeah.”

Twilight opened her mouth to say…what? Spike ran a little too quickly back into the throng, probably to offer things they already had or were easily in reach. 

“Everything okay?” Peter asked gently. 

“She’s not playing,” Twilight replied neutrally.

“You know what I mean. This isn’t just about my costume. If Spike’s not doing so good it’d be fine if he wants to take off.”

Twilight’s ears folded slightly. Things did seem to be perking up, especially now the Beast and the much-ballyhooed Sweater Vest Slim had arrived. Spike was even shaking Duke Cage’s hoof, congratulating him on his upcoming engagement. But Peter was right.

“He found that box,” she said simply, because Peter knowing wasn’t going to be fun but it couldn’t make tonight’s various messes any worse. 

Peter furrowed his brow, confused until she indicated his bedroom door. “I have a lot of--”

Twilight glanced at Deerdevil then decided what the hay. Not his fault he had super-hearing so whatever he heard, he heard. “Osthorn’s box.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Did anypony trigger—?”

“Nopony got hurt,” Twilight assured. “But it was a big shock, and Spike’s…upset because I didn’t tell him. I understand why, it’s just going to be a big conversation I hoped I didn’t have to have.”

“Twilight, the kid can look after himself, but he is a kid. He shouldn’t have anything to do with Osthron anyway! I only even asked you to take a look at the thing because Mr. Fantastic was out of town. If this is anypony’s fault it’s mine.” 

“It’s nopony’s fault,” Twilight assured. “And I was happy to do it.” 

She reserved a lot of dark, special kinds of emotion for the former Goat Goblin. What he’d put Peter and his friends and family through, of course, what he’d done to poor Harry. The scientist and amateur inventor in her were disgusted at the level of craft he’d put into those boxes. Small, two-way communication! In a localized magical field as dense and diverse as Manehattan’s! That should have been a miracle. 

And instead, Norman Osthorn had used that craft to bully somepony. Because he’d lost their insane rivalry and wanted a way to harass Peter whenever he wanted. Disgusting. Pathetic. 

Magically sealing the box so it needed Peter (or somepony rifling his possessions, which she ought to have planned for) to activate it had been a pleasure.

“I can talk to him,” Peter said gently. 

As they watched, Deerdevil, still wearing his silly t-shirt, leaned over to say something to Rarity. Her azure eyes swung to the couple, then she gave them a smile, a wink, and stood up, trotting over to Spike. Deerdevil smiled, adjusted the neck of his shirt, and waltzed over to join a backflipping contest Pinkie was taking part in with the Beast, Iron Hoof and, of course, Rainbow Dash. 

“I think he’ll be okay,” Twilight smiled wryly to herself. She pulled her hastily written and hidden notes from her wing pocket and smoothed them out on one of the game tables. “We’ve still got plenty to worry about.”

Such as:
A)  How to get Peter to Ponyville, to grab his one remaining spare costume, without drawing attention.
B)  How to possibly open an entirely new portal somewhere else in the building, because their regular one was covered in rugs, tables, and the hooves of their increasing guest list.
C)  How to do this properly so that Peter arrived at any destination with all his limbs in the right time and space.

“You’re sure about the roof?” Peter asked, indicating a tangled line of equations on one paper. “It’d be the most isolated spot.”

“Yeah, but…” Twilight bit her lip. “It might activate the actual portal; we’d be directly over it if we did it right. Lots of light.”

“Pinkie’s gotta have a disco ball, right?” 

The party pony’s ear twitched at that, making her turn her head mid-flip and accidentally spin face first into one of the punch bowls.

“Are you sure about the basement?” Twilight asked. “If we did it right we’d be under the living room, so it ought to visibly open on the underside of--”

“If we did it right. Lots of floors in the way. Furniture. People. Moving people.”

“Maybe in the stairwell…” Twilight murmured, hastily scribbling a new line of math. Nothing to see here, folks, just a really, really dedicated last minute hostess going over party plans, why else would she be doing with pieces of paper, writing fast enough to set fire to it, ha ha ha…

“Mail room?” Peter suggested. 

“Ooh, do you have any deliveries? I might be able to use it as a possession to open a temporary—agh, wait-wait-wait, mail would be to you, not necessarily for you, the sender might…hrm. Grrr!” 

Peter glanced over his shoulder as Dash flipped onto a startled Fluttershy’s shoulders. “You think there’ll still be time for me to get in on that?” 

“Focus, dear.”

“Yes, honey.”


19


Eventually, Johnny made coffee. 

Lyja, who’d since reverted to her true shape, stared after him as he went about it, still standing where she’d just…stopped. 

“You still take that Saddle Arabian stuff?” Johnny asked he heated the pot by hoof. He idly swung open the nearest shelf unit with his other hoof, examining its lowest jars. 

“What?” Lyja blinked. She couldn’t get over how bored he looked. “You mean cardamon?” 

“Yeah.” 

“…sometimes?” 

When the coffee was finished Johnny turned, two steaming mugs on a tray in one hoof, to find Lyja on her haunches, steadying her left foreleg with her other one like a shotgun. Her hoof and her eyes glowed with power. 

Johnny snorted irritated sparks from his nose.

“Put it down slowly,” Lyja warned. She awkwardly scooted aside, still on her haunches and in her business suit, to allow him to trot past her and lay his tray on the coffee table. 

Johnny made jazz hooves, now his were free, and gestured expectantly at it. Lyja stayed in the same position. She’d watched him add cardamom and milk, so she knew he hadn’t poisoned it. She just didn’t know what he was doing, so she was sticking to their routine. 

Johnny rolled his eyes, grumpily trotting backwards and flopping back into the chair he’d been waiting in. Lyja’s eyes widened and flicked as he picked up his mug. “You’re not seriously drinking that,” she said. 

Johnny grunted mid-sip and lowered the mug. “Look, chasing you all over town hasn’t worked, so why not?”

“This is too dumb not to be a trap.” Lyja trotted around in a circle, her glowing eyes casting purple binocular floodlights all around the suite. “How’d you follow me? Is your sister here?!”

Johnny sputtered into his next drink. He thumped his chest to quell his choked laughter and get his breath back as Lyja glared indignantly. 

“I don’t even know if Sue and Reed are in Equestria right now. As for your little evil lair here…” He waved a hoof at the package addressed to Aurora Sheen, still where he’d slid it to her. A blue rune flickered into existence at one corner. 

“The fine folks at Manehattan central post office still send my stuff to the good ol’ Baxter Barn. Just waited for one of your samples to turn up and had H.E.R.B.I.E. tag it. That way even if returning it to sender didn’t work, I’d still be able to track where ‘Aurora’, or ‘Ms. Imagine Berry’ went.” 

He pulled out his Fantastic Family compact and waved it demonstrably. 

“I can’t believe this,” Lyja said eventually. At least her eyes had stopped glowing. 

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Johnny said, indicating with his own mug. 

“What?! I can’t drink coffee with the enemy!” she snapped. 

“You did it before,” Johnny retorted. 

“That was different!” 

“Oh what, that was for work?”

She stared at him incredulously, like he’d just told her a door couldn’t be a jar because larders existed. “Yes?”

Johnny scoffed and sipped his coffee again. 

“If you’re going to burn my cover, put up a fight and do it properly,” Lyja snarled, throwing off her suit jacket. “At least when I strangled you I didn’t treat it like…whatever this is!” 

Johnny glared back and then finally put his mug down. Fair enough. He didn’t know what this was turning into either. 

“This is typical of you, you know that?” Lyja spat. “You can’t even be a doop properly! You just decide to be smart all of sudden and up the ante for everybody!” 

“Big talk from the Wiley Coyote wannabe!” Johnny shot back. “You’re so off your game these days nopony’d think you ever had any!” 

“Oh, you have no idea about the game I’m playing here, Johnnycake Storm.” 

“Yeah? So why’d you walk into the most obvious trap I could think of?”

That brought her up short, to her open-mouthed outrage. Johnny’s own temper had already driven him out of his chair and to his hooves, the air around his shoulder’s visibly shimmering as he fought to keep from spontaneously igniting. 

“I mean, it was the most clutch idea I ever had, top 40 at least, but if anypony’d catch on it’d be you! I don’t care how deep cover you extra-terNERDstrials go, no way you were so in character you faked being surprised! And that ambush was so basic, you did that to me all the time back when you were messing with me! And I catch you with your tail down? With the exact same move? Please!” 

“I—you—Don’t you presume to—!” Lyja’s mouth kept opening and closing. “That was—I was just biding my time! So you caught me off guard! Law of averages says you’d have to get lucky once, and you brag about being the Horseshoe Torch all the time.” 

“So Aurora Sheen’s whole existence was just you ‘biding your time’?” Johnny made sure to make his voice extra petulant to go along with his hoof quotes. Lyja was starting to sound like a defensive little filly and what the hay, he felt like it. 

“Of course it was,” Lyja scoffed. “Like I’d breath the same air as you for any other reason. Will you throw a fireball or a punch or something already?”

“Will you just drink your pretentious Saddle Arabian stuff and tell me what’s going on?!” 

It wasn’t the sparks that whoosed out of his hoof as he gestured furiously at her coffee table that startled him. He hadn’t meant to do that, and realised he’d actually manifested some of his epidermis, scattering warm chunks of the protective brick red shell across the floor. 

What surprised him was the volume of his voice. He hadn’t meant to shout, either. 

The hotel room and sounds of the city faded back in around them. He wondered if any staff were about to come knocking. Somepony had to have heard him, right? 

Lyja put a hoof to one temple and screwed her eyes shut. She shucked the rest of her business clothes, fixing her mane back into a ponytail. Johnny blinked. He’d never seen a Skrull without clothes before. Their elite ran around in robes and sashes instead of the standard purple and black jumpsuits, but that was about it. 

It was weird to see Lyja’s huffy face without it being framed by her collar and headband. Her body was pear coloured and had an odd, smooth texture, unlike the glossiness of Equestrian coat hair. Apart from her forest green mane she didn’t have any hair, like, at all. Even her short tail was more of a Spike deal but more elegant, a short reptilian curl. 

Her bare legs reminded him of a lizard too, like they should bend the way a lizard’s did. She had these wrinkles around the joints, and he wondered if they were supposed to be like how her chin was segmented. 

Lyja glared at him, gave her discarded clothes a kick hard enough to send them wafting halfway across the room, and grabbed Aurora Sheen’s package. She tore it open with a violence he felt in his chest, pulled out one of the by now probably half melted tubs of ice cream, and stormed towards the kitchen. 

Johnny watched, nonplussed and uncertain if he should flame on, as she pulled out a bowl and upended the tub into it. It looked halfway between paste and cheese at this point, but Lyja didn’t seem to care. 

“Yell at me,” she was muttering, “in my own safe house…use up my coffee…make me run all over the place…terrans…”

“If you’re gonna make a break for it--” Johnny warned. 

“Relax, tough guy, I like this place too much for you to burn it down.” 

“Are you—?” Johnny squinted, craning to try and see what she was doing. She’d pulled things out of cupboards now. “Is that whipped cream?”

“And cherries. Want some?”

“Uh…maybe?”

“Tough.” She took a vindictive bite, pulling most right off the stem and tossing the rest into her concoction. 

Johnny watched dumbfounded as she flopped down in front of her mug. She kicked the table and nodded pointedly for him to heat it up. 

“Are you binge eating ice cream right now?” Johnny asked in disbelief. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t tried to hurl it in his face and run. Well, the night was still young… 

“Hey, you made coffee. Which you didn’t pay for.”

“Oh, like you did!” 

“Not a superhero.” She swirled the mess in her hoof with a spoon. All that was missing was a bathrobe. Maybe a hairnet. “Look, fine. Fine. You want to know what’s really going on? Well, it’s a lot and I need fuel. You ran me ragged and broke into my safehouse and you yelled at me.” 

“You--” Johnny began, pointing a vehement hoof. 

“Have all the answers and honestly I’m as done with this as you are, so just heat up my ⌇⏁⎍⌿⟟⎅ coffee and then I can tell you, and you can go back to hating me.” 

Johnny stared into Lyja’s defiant, irritated, tired face. She took a bite of ice cream nightmare, never breaking eye contact. 

Well. He was the one who was totally done and had made coffee. He took the mug between his hooves. If she tried to stab him in the neck with the end of her spoon or something, fine, he didn’t have the energy for much more than crumpling up anyway. 

“I hate what you did to me,” he clarified as delicious steam began to waft off the top. 

“Same difference.” 

“Maybe,” Johnny admitted. “But you keep coming back.”

“It’s my job,” Lyja said, oddly dignified considering it was with her mouth full and she had a whipped cream moustache.

“You’re kinda bad at your job,” he countered, placing her mug in front of her. She snorted derisively and licked her moustache away with a forked reptilian tongue. “No, seriously. I’m so good Princess Celestia glues lil’ pictures of me over the dictionary definition, but I’ve come closer to gettin’ got crossing the street without looking both ways than even loosing a stray hair in one of your traps.”

“Keep walking into ’em though,” Lyja countered airily. She scooped some of the top of the mix off with her spoon and deposited it in her coffee for later. 

“And walking out! I’d dab on the way if they weren’t sad enough already. It’s almost like you don’t want to be here.”

“You are a fugitive from charges of trespass against the Skrull Empire.” Lyja shrugged. “Not like I’m supposed to pick where I get assigned.” 

“And we both know you couldn’t give a dragon’s damp discharge about the Empire,” Johnny retorted. “You’ve got more complaints than your species has chins.” 

Lyja’s eyes leaked purple sparks at that crack, but she just took a grumpy sip of coffee. 

“Seriously, if they didn’t keep you Super Skrulls sweet you’d probably be running the place by now. No, scratch that! You’d be neck deep in a power struggle after turning on each other.”

“Kl’rt would wipe the floor with us,” Lyja said simply, referring to the original and most powerful Super Skrull. Johnny shrugged to silently concede the point: the Fantastic Family took entire platoons of Skrulls, in any shape or size, to school practically every day, and Kl’rt had all their powers combined. 

“What about Arcade?” he tried. 

“What about Arcade?” 

“Couple weeks back. You get all those lame traps from him. Spidey says you even stole a bunch of property listings. Like maybe you don’t care about death traps, just what you’re using as a killbox.” 

Lyja was silent. And avoiding eye contact. 

“That it?” Johnny persisted. He pulled out his compact, flipping it open and displaying its glass face, a magi-sonar map of Manehattan with crisscrossing blue trails. “Wouldn’t be hard to check. Got a whole day of that box on here, just have to check where you lugged it and what lines up with an old case.” 

“You’re getting there,” Lyja allowed. She took a sip of coffee. 

Johnny looked around the suite again. He knew enough about his quarry (he was not going to let her have ‘nemesis’. He was saving that for somepony special) to know part of Lyja’s reasons for joining the Super Skrull initiative was a sort of literal glow up. 

A few hours under the knife or strapped to tesla coils, however it worked, and she not only had her laser powers but a big steaming plate of The Finer Things. And she’d liked the taste. 

For every cutesy Indigo Fillies fangirl identity or Frazzled-But-Takes-No-Guff medical student cover she’d had, complete with appropriately shoebox sized (and smelling) apartments, there’d been a model’s assistant or an aristocrat’s distant cousin, a trainee circus ringmaster that one time, and they’d all hung their custom-tailored hats on at least four-star grade hooks. 

All her old identities had ‘bided their time’ by taking his credit card to…well, the exact same places he’d take his credit card anyway. Perfect camouflage, he had to give her that. She’d jumped him in a couple of Saddle Row boutiques, but once he’d noticed the pattern he also realised she’d never done it during a sale. 

Hay, he’d scoped the place out a little while waiting for her and found some Sanguine bags in her wardrobe. Latest stuff, too. He’d wondered what she’d done with all the stuff he’d brought her. 

Did it matter? She was a spy, kinda. Probably ditched it and moved onto her next target. That was what they did. There’d always be decadent hotel suites and Istallion couture waiting for her somewhere. 

He sat down again, flicking the lid of his compact open and closed a few times as he looked at nothing. 

“So when you call me your meal ticket,” he said eventually, feeling his way along a dark tunnel into a less dark chamber, “you mean…that I’m you job?”

“They say love what you do,” Lyja smirked. 

“Cute,” Johnny snarled, sparks shooting from his eyes and between his clenched teeth. “Alright. I figured that. The Empire sics you on me and you’ve got an excuse to pretend you’re classy.”

“Ouch,” Lyja deadpanned, pouting and placing her spoon against her chest. “You’re not wrong, but for the record? I wouldn’t talk about class when you come from a planet that figured out internal combustion engines and indoor plumbing around the same time. Our war with the Kree might be almost as old as some suns, but we still developed FTL travel, 3D printing, and actual fat free soda.” 

Johnny ran his perfectly pedicured hooves down his face, praying he had the strength not to make that Twilight Sparkle groan. Lyja’s ice cream slowly collapsed in on itself like a souffle as the room temperature rose suddenly and her coffee began to bubble. 

“Hey,” Lyja mock soothed, “buck up, champ. You might be a primitive mudball but you’re a magic primitive mudball.”

“That you treat as a worldwide spa day.” 

Lyja just shrugged and nodded. 

“So when you say I’m your meal ticket…” Johnny prompted. 

“I mean I’m using you as an excuse to keep getting assigned to this planet, yeah,” Lyja said. Like she was explaining why she did yoga or brought eggplants, just the most mundane chit chat kind of explanation. 

A beat. 

“You’re flattered, aren’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” Johnny admitted. “Depends on whether or not you’re about to tell me you deliberately flubbed all those missions.”

“Not all of them,” Lyja said through another mouthful. She spooned the last of her goop into her molten coffee and sat back as they made streaming geyser plumes together in her mug. “You’re one of the Fantastic Family, you’re great at finding your way out of that sort of thing. It just happens faster if I leave a little hole in the fence. You’ll blow it wide open eventually. I’m just hedging my bet.” 

Ditch poker night, get someone to confess to bet hedging, Johnny thought. Why not. 

“Which is?” he sighed.

“You said it yourself!” Lyja gestured to the entire room. “Worldwide spa day! If I catch you then I’ve gotta go back to the nearest Tarnax outpost and wait for reassignment. That’s Tarnax LXII. Hey, here’s a Skrull joke for you: what’s the difference between a Tarnax LXII executive lounge and a Tarnax XVIII bathroom?”

“Lyja--”

“A Tarnax XVIII bathroom is supposed to smell that way.” 

Lyja flopped back in her chair, hooves behind her head. She’d delivered the barb with an appropriate amount of sarcastic cheerfulness, but she wasn’t smiling now.

“I like it here, Johnny. I get to be whoever I want and whatever I want, and what I want is to be someone comfortable. Not stuck in the ⏚⏃⊑⍜⍜☍⟟⟒ of the Skrull Empire waiting to find out which particular frontline I’m going to be shoved onto. At least down here there’s coffee and ice cream and music and literature and fashion, and apart from you hardly anypony shoots at me.” 

She took a big, final swing of her mug and slammed it down so hard Johnny jumped a little. She stared right into his eyes as she extended her forked tongue like a probing tentacle, wiping off every last trace of the caffeine and dairy beard she’d given herself. Johnny would never quite be able to forget the sounds it made. 

“That’s why I called you my meal ticket; you are. It’s simple. They sent me back here to ‘make up for my failure’ and I’m not allowed the privilege of returning to the luxuries of Throneworld until I bring you in, dead or alive. You’re flattered, I’m sure. I’m just amazed high command didn’t realise they sentenced me to the ultimate working vacation!”

“You leave yourself work for tomorrow,” Johnny said, eyes narrowing. 

“Absolutely,” Lyja smirked, eyes narrowing but at some inner vision, not in response. “So I put in just enough effort, let myself get tripped up by the right kind of Empire bureaucracy, and honestly just wait for you to bust out like you would anyway.” 

She adopted a puppy dog face and clasped her hooves. “Then I report back to my superiors, begging for just one more shot at the Horseshoe Torch, my big burning white whale, so I can be allowed to go back to risking my neck for the overgrown schoolgirl who kicked me out in the first place. Sometimes I do call you guys ‘a primitive mudball’ like it’s the ’50s or something, just to sell it.”  

Johnny stared so much it hurt. He blinked a couple of times to moisten his eyes and massaged the space between them. “Wow. That might be the most effort I’ve ever seen anyone in this universe put into being lazy.” 

A green blur, the violent clatter of a grown mare furiously springing from her seat and knocking her personal effects over as she scrabbled onto the coffee table to loom over him. Her eyes and hooves glowed, her teeth furious white against the light and shadows dancing across her green face. 

Lyja thrust a hoof to a point between her right shoulder and her chest. The glow around that hoof dimmed and Johnny could see it now: a flickering purple thorn shape across Lyja’s smooth reptilian skin, impossible to miss now he knew it was there. A scar with the light of Lyja’s power shining through from under her skin. 

Where the implants would have gone in. 

He could see others on her left hip and up and down her hind legs now. He’d even swear the tip of her tail was starting to blink. 

“I paid to get here,” Lyja rasped. 

The light in her eyes guttered back to her yellow pupils and Johnny was surprised to see she was starting to well up. She’d killed the lightshow because she needed the willpower not to cry. Not in front of him. 

“Don’t you ever forget that” Lyja whispered. “I don’t care if you hate me, don’t you ever forget what I let them do to me to get here.” 

Johnny could only watch silently as she took the trembling steps off the table and back into her chair. Lyja hung her head and hugged herself. She rubbed at her eyes violently, only once. 

They sat in silence with only the distant sounds of Manehattan from the still open window. 

Eventually Johnny stood up and went to make more coffee.


To be Continued 

> Two Flare (6)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


20


“And then what happened?” Spike asked enthusiastically. 

“Lemme guess,” Rainbow drawled, laying the disinterest on extra thick to cover up how jealous she was the dragon had never been that pumped about her autograph, “he shot an arrow at it.” 

“That was the plan,” smirked Arrowhead, levitating Spike’s autograph book back into his paws. 

“Please don’t encourage him,” an unmasked Mockingbird half pleaded. “Bad enough he insisted on turning up in costume.”

Across the room Peter Trotter’s ears pricked up. 

“What,” Dash scoffed, “you threw it a parade instead?”

“Actually, it got in a lucky shot and fried my quiver. Had to ditch the whole thing before it went up and took yours truly with it.” 

“Wow,” Spike cooed, eyes wide. “So then you had to take on a Shepherd with no arrows?!”

“Here we go,” Mockingbird sighed. 

She took off her blue long-coat, revealing the simple navy turtleneck she had on underneath. Other than a hind leg holster for two billy clubs she’d come without any overtly super-heroic accoutrements. A silver bird shaped pendant clipped to her collar probably didn’t count. 

“Love you too, Codi,” Arrowhead chuckled. 

He was dressed to the nines, an indigo winter wrap up style vest with light violet padding down the front, tapering appropriately into an arrowhead shape. His full head cowl was the same shade of violet, contrast provided by his royal lilac mask, a wing-tipped domino number that had an impish, carnival air. 

All that plus holes for his cornflower blue ears and horn. It shouldn’t have worked but, much to Rainbow Dash’s current annoyance and Rarity’s professional curiosity, Arrowhead had the exact right attitude to carry it off. 

“Uh huh,” Mockingbird, or just Morse Code since she was off duty, muttered as her partner nuzzled her. She began looking around the apartment, holding up her blue coat. “Is there anywhere I could…?” 

Peter stepped up, waving a hoof to take it. “I got it, make yourself at home.” 

“Thanks,” Codi smiled, then squinted slightly. “Sorry, have we met?” 

Peter froze mid-turn towards the corner where one of Johnny’s portable towel racks was serving as a coatrack. She must’ve recognised Spider-Pony’s voice, even if she didn’t know it yet! 

“Peter here works at Damage Control,” Pinkie Pie declared, bouncing over. “You might’ve met him cleaning up after one of your things, now you’re in his apartment, small continent. Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie! I work at Party Control.”

Codi began to stutter something but half jumped along with everypony else in the vicinity when Spike and Rainbow Dash let out a mutual cry of, “NO WAY!”

“A vacuum cleaner,” Dash almost spat derisively. Codi put her head in a hoof.

“That’s what I said, speedy,” Arrowhead said casually. 

“And it tore itself apart?” Spike asked, awed. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Arrowhead placed a hoof on the drake’s shoulder, leading his newest fanboy deeper into the party, and pointedly away from an indignant Rainbow Dash, as he elaborated. “Y’see, as our pals in the Hex-Ponies’ll tell ya, Shepherd’s weren’t just built to destroy anyone certain rich ponies hate an’ fear but with an equally psycho obsession with hygiene. So, once the metallic meathead figured it had even one spec of grit somewhere inside it, all your dear Brier Arrowhead had to do was sit back an’ watch it try to unscrew it’s own head and sandblast its legs off at the same time.”


***


Rarity shook her head as she trotted past, boggling at the so-called logic of the super heroic life, and joined Twilight at the coffee table. 

“How’re we getting on, darling?”

“We aren’t,” Twilight sighed. “Oh, we have a few ways to get to Ponyville, naturally, but they’re all visible. And then there’s coming up with an excuse for Peter to portal there.” 

“One of us could have forgotten something,” Fluttershy suggested, trotting up with Peter. 

“That might--” Twilight began enthusiastically. 

Peter winced. “I already told everypony I had to run an errand out in the city. Plus, they’ll notice if I just step halfway to the centre of the kingdom and don’t come back until Spidey’s gone.”

Twilight telekinetically tapped her pencil against her horn for the fifth time tonight. The whole guest list wasn’t here yet, but the living room was already filling up. Even Pinkie wouldn’t be able to keep everypony distracted for the rest of the night. The Elements were already mingling with just about half of Manehattan’s hero population as was. 

It didn’t help that part of her brain was also focusing on potential punishments she would absolutely be inflicting on Peter and Johnny for this. 

A flash of light by the balcony! Twilight squawked, her papers flying. 

“Hope this is the right place or I’m about to be mighty embarrassed,” the light said, fading into a costumed zebra. 

She was wearing a white and black full body costume, meaning her pulsing blue stripes were glowing so brightly they were showing through the fabric. The Elements, mainly the diplomatic adjacent Twilight, had met the odd zebra with different pigmentation to the black and white (or white and black…?) majority. Zeccora’s own coat tended on a more silver-grey side, and Storm of the Hex-Ponies had cocoa and golden markings Rarity just adored.

Stripes made of blue light was a new one though. It definitely said ‘super powered’.

“Hey Monica,” Arrowhead called from across the room. He blinked as a purple blur shot from his side, weaving amongst tables and party goers, to skid to a halt in front of her.

“Y-you’re Captain Marvel!” Spike declared, vibrating with fanboy delight. “Like, the other one!” 

Peter winced. The Elements all noticed several other heroes doing the same.

“Captain Universe, actually,” the zebra chuckled, looking the dragon up and down. She half turned, smirking, allowing him to see a blonde Pegasus coming in for a landing on the balcony. “Felt it was time to trade up.” 

“Ha-ha,” the current Captain Marvel retorted dryly. She was wearing a bomber jacket over her red, gold and blue uniform, her trademark red sash trailing just above the hardwood floor as she trotted up to her partner. Her blue eyes landed on Twilight, widening, and she nudged Monica. 

“Is that a princess?” the zebra said, too caught off guard to keep the shock out of her voice.

“Well, you wanted to trade up,” Marvel said. She marched smartly up to Twilight and chums, further bemusing them as she pulled off a salute clockwork figurine makers would kill for. 

“Oh, there’s really no need--” Twilight tried.  

“Captain Corona Dancer, your highness, ma’am,” Marvel barked, fully committed to annoying her partner. From the Zebra’s expression it seemed to be working. “Current Captain Marvel, former Wonderbolt, reserve Befriender, and co-founder of the first super pony poker night.”

“As am I,” the Beast said, tumbling out of the air to perch on the Captain’s back, “but do you hear me bragging?” He gave her a nuzzle. “How’re you, Carol? It’s been too long.”

“Long enough for you guys to expand your roster,” Marvel replied coolly, easily flapping into the air, Beast’s lionesque body still perfectly balanced on top of her, to turn and raise an eyebrow at the Hex-Ponies in the crowd. “How’s Rogue?” 

“Ah,” the Beast sighed, ears twitching as he turned to Sweater Vest Slim. 

“She came to us,” Summers said simply. “We’re aware of her past. We also stand by our decision.” 

“Carol, come on!” Monica urged.

No wonder Pete’s twitchier than a rattler in a maracas factory, Applejack thought. This is the fifth turf war that’s ALMOST broken out tonight. These people’re like different parts of one of the weirdest engines in Equestria, an’ this game’s their dang release valve. 

The background conversation kept going, making those closest to Carol aware of an intense pocket of cold silence around her and Summers. Eventually Monica rolled her eyes and trotted up to Twilight. She held out a hoof, producing three mid-sized gems. Twilight telekinetically took them, the group’s eyes now on Carol to see if the other Captain would take the prompt. 

Carol looked at her partner and snorted, rolling her eyes as she retrieved her own gems, held together by an elastic band. To a relief Twilight and Applejack hadn’t realised they’d needed to feel she passed them up to the Beast. 

“See?” Monica smirked. “You can be taught.”

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon Captain Universe, let’s mingle. And I want my rubber band back,” she called to the Beast as they headed over to, Twilight was similarly relived to note, the Hex-Ponies corner of the conversation.


***


Or tried to, anyway.

Zip. “Hey, yo, are you the same Lieutenant Dancer who was in the ’95 Wonderbolts?”

“Wh—?”

“’Cause if so we’ve gotta talk. Name’s Rainbow Dash!” 

“Uh--”

Boing, boing. “Hi party person, I’m Pinkie Pie, that’s a lotta white in your costume, do you worry about stains?” 

“Where did you come fro—?”

“Because I’d just love-love-love to show you our selection of non-stick snacks! That’s almost as good as stainless, right? This-a-way!”

“Carol, help.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come to this sun-blasted thing,” Captain Marvel groused, backing away from a questioning Rainbow Dash as Captain Universe was pushed helplessly towards the buffet by Pinkie Pie’s lowered head in her back.

“Shut up,” Carol muttered as her backing up took her past Timberwolf, who she shared a Mysterious Past™ with, because who in this circle didn’t.

“Did I say anythin’ darlin’?” the Exquestrian smirked 


***


“Should we…?” Peter trailed off.

“Think of it like swimming, darling,” Rarity said, unable to keep a soupçon of amusement out of her voice. 

“Swimming is a learning process,” Peter countered. “Under controlled conditions.”

“While still coming with an understanding that you could drown,” Rarity finished. Her brows wrinkled slightly with concern as she regarded a leonine blue form. “Is anything wrong, doctor?”

The Beast had been looking at Captain Marvel, idly weighing her gems in his paw-like pad. He favoured the shorn style ponies of Shining Armour’s generation did, revealing his hooves be cloven and slightly curved. Presumably this, along with his enhanced strength and agility, was what allowed him to scale assorted surfaces almost Spider-Pony style or like his fellow Hex-Pony Nightcharger. 

Rarity noted that his exposed keratin had an almost burnished quality, like something sturdy and ceramic, and that Dr. McColt’s fine tastes extended to clipping his hooves in the style of Pranceisian goats. Elegant, but she could tell they were probably, um, inclined towards being sharper and wondered why he’d, essentially, blunt them like that. It would make getting a purchase much easier!

Then she took in the sheer size of the stallion, the small fangs he couldn’t prevent poking over his lower lip, and the distant melancholy on his face. She had to admit his face had thrown her upon their first meeting because, to her shame, for all its feline features it looked too equine, too normal, to belong to such a body.

Dr. Hackney Sheepshank McColt already called himself the Beast. He most likely didn’t need to give people more reasons to think of him as one. There were enough ponies too terrified to take his proffered hoof already. 

The Beast seemed to come back to himself. “Oh, nothing Ms. Belle, nothing. Just memories. We were on the same Befrienders roster for a while. Rouge is a fine fellow Hex-Breed to add to our hair-raising ranks but…”

He trailed off. Rarity was again struck by the incongruity of his features. She’d been greatly enjoying their banter, his tongue in cheek over-articulateness. It should have been at odds with hulking yet agile body, and so may have been to alleviate it. She hoped it wasn’t just that. Dr. McColt’s face was built for his facetious smile. But regret looked sadly at home there as well.

Rarity made a decision. “Founded, did you say?” 

“Mmm? Sorry? Oh, the game! Yes, we--”

“I’d love to hear more.” She looked over her shoulder and winked at Peter Trotter’s slight nod of gratitude. 

“It’s a long story,” the Beast cautioned. 

“Then I insist you play at my table so it can be told in full.”


***


“Sure,” Twilight huffed as Rarity and the Hex-Pony headed back into the throng, “just throw off my entire seating arrangement so far, why not.”

“Who’s a rouge now?” Applejack asked. 

“She’s new,” Peter sighed, watching as Twilight began telekinetically erasing and rearranging things on her chalk board. “Okay, what if I grabbed my mask? Could wear something over it, like a Casual Friday thing!”

“It’s Saturday,” Fluttershy pointed out. 

“A fully body thing?” Applejack squinted. “At this hour?”

“You got a better idea?” Peter demanded, whirring around in frustration.

“Don’t you snap at her!” Twilight snapped, whirring around from her new seating arrangements. 

A blast of light through the rack under the door! A heavy landing sound that silenced the rest of the room, leaving only Pinkie’s party mix still going on the stereo. 

As the Elements of Harmony and half of Equestria’s super heroic community stood staring at the door, frozen mid party activity in mostly fully costume, there was a tentative knock. Followed by a scratching sound.

“Lockjaw, no!” whined a familiar voice. “You’ll ruin the fretwork!”

“Lockjaw?” Peter squinted, then spun to Twilight, eyes wide. “Crystal,” they said in sync.

“The—ah whatcha call ’em?—the Unknown filly?” Applejack asked. “In yellow? With the giant dog?”

“The giant teleporting dog,” Peter grinned.


21


They’d been sitting in silence for what felt like forever and if Johnny drank anymore coffee he was going to start sprouting beans himself. 

So, inadvisable as making sudden moves in front of a twitchy alien with laser powers may be, he sprang to his hooves. 

Lyja made a startled snorting noise, almost tumbling out of her chair. Johnny had thought she’d been curled up in brooding silence. Turns out she’d just dozed off.

“Alright,” he declared, brandishing the cuffs from his utility collar, “time to go.”

“Go where?” Lyja grunted irritably, climbing back into her seat.

Johnny gestured to her hotel suite in general. “Don’t get me wrong, this place is cool and all…” He trailed off and gave it a more in-character look. “For only three stars, I guess. Anyway!” He clacked the cuffs like crab claws. “Stick ’em up.”

Lyja stared at him.

“I thought we were…I thought you understood,” she said eventually. 

“You understand why I can’t just let you run loose.” 

Lyja looked into his eyes. He wondered what she saw there because he wasn’t really sure what he felt right now. (Other than worried he might need to visit the little colt’s room at some point.)  

“Where are you even taking me?” she demanded. Good point.

“The Stockade,” he bluffed. “They’re waiting for me.”

They weren’t, but super-pony crime never slept so the super duper max extension built on Raiders Island was always ready for a late night prisoner delivery courtesy of the Befrienders. Or they had been back when there were Befrienders. After the Spark mess who knew.

“I just told you everything,” Lyja said, distantly and incredulous. 

Johnny shrugged. 

“That’s all I get?!”

“What, you hate your job so you turned it into half stalking, half staycation? You think that changes anything?”

Lyja sat up in her chair, eyes flicking to every corner of the living room. Johnny ignited and sped in front of the door, cursing himself as he realised this left her with a straight shot to the still open window behind him. 

“Lyja, c’mon, where would you even go?”

“You think this is my only safe house?”

“You think I can’t find you again?” He waved a hoof at Aurora Sheen’s abandoned mail, blue tracking rune still helpfully pulsing away. “Hay, it’s your job to come after me. If I don’t bring you in now I’ll do it eventually, with way bigger stakes!”

He gestured to the box again.

“I did this in a day, Lyja.”

Beat. Both of them perfectly still, the shadows of the room dancing from the light of the Torch’s flames.

“I have leverage,” Lyja said, sounding surprised at herself.

“Say what?”

“The real Aurora Sheen.”

Johnny’s gritted teeth glowed in his blazing mouth. “She is real?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny drifted closer. “Lyja, I swear, if you’ve hurt anypony--”

She stepped towards him, eyes glowing purple. “Back off and listen.”

The Torch huffed sparks from his nose and did, drifting back slightly without extinguishing. Lyja took a deep breath, her hair tying itself into a ponytail seemingly of its own accord.

“Relax tough guy, it’s not what you think,” she muttered, turning towards her closet. “Let me grab something comfortable--”

The Torch shot in front of her, blocking the closet. (Which now left the window and the front door within bolting distance, damn it!)

“Seriously?” Lyja scoffed.

“Hey, you’re lucky I’m following you at all,” Johnny shot back, pointing a blazing hoof. “Besides, you guys can just make clothes out of your skin or whatever. I’m giving you about as much chance to pocket some secret weapon as I am to let you just bolt and shape change into a crowd: absolutely zero!”

“You’re not gonna just frogmarch an alien down 5th Avenue,” she retorted. “They’d as likely lynch you along with me. I need a non-aggressive shape.”

“So pick one!”


***


A handsome that finally pulled up ten minutes later only did so because its driver slowed to a slack jawed halt. Johnny’s mood was a silently whining buzzsaw, just waiting for the universe to push something into it. Sparks would, literally in his case, fly. Lyja kept on looking around and waving graciously at passing ponies. One unfortunate pedestrian was so surprised they didn’t look where they were going and walked into a mailbox. 

“Uh,” the cabby stammered, “er, uh, that is, do you wanna–? Sh-should…?”

“Ah, thou hast read our mind!” decreed ‘Princess Luna’.

Oh sun and moon, Johnny thought, trying not to melt the sidewalk beneath his hooves from frustration. She’s doing the voice.

At least it wasn’t the Royal Canterlot variant. He pictured Lyja trying and something going horribly wrong in her throat, which made him feel a little better. 

It was that she’d sprung her Luna shape on him when they were halfway out the hotel door that really gnawed at him. He’d spent the wait feeling her silently milking the comedic effect: Tall, elegant, graciously waving pony princess, next to a lil’ itty bitty, gwumpy Earth Pony. 

And he couldn’t do anything to retaliate because ‘Luna’ on the sidewalk was probably going to get him in enough trouble already. If he set fire to Lyja-Luna’s mane the real deal would…would…

Well, he wouldn’t like it was the point. 

“Alack!” Lyja-Luna patted herself down and checked both her (non-functional) wings. “Oh, fickle fate. We have forgotten our wallet! Kind Sir Johnnycake, wouldst thou…?”

“Whatever,” Johnny muttered, shoving his way into the seat beside her. 

Lyja used her hammy impression of Luna’s voice to ask for a street. Johnny’s brow furrowed even more as he recognized it as only a short walk from Aurora’s bakery. Did Lyja have the real Aurora tied up in her own basement? That felt way too simple. 

Lyja continued to wave graciously at pedestrians as their cab took off, making sure her face was regally solemn for the joke. Pedestrians continued to double take and suffer humorous collisions with public infrastructure. One Pegasus even saluted so hard she knocked herself a foot into the air.

“She’s gonna come for both of us in our sleep, you do know that?” Johnny pointed out.

“She that sleeps feels not the toothache,” Lyja said, grave enough to be the real Luna. 

“Dispute not with her: she is lunatic,” Johnny countered.

Nothing but the clip-clop of the driver’s hooves on Manehattan tarmac as a Skrull in the shape of an Alicorn stared at him.

“Private school, state champion theatre class,” Johnny said, smugly settling back into the seat with his hooves behind his head. “Now, see, a dedicated stalker would know that.”

“Nobody on this planet is surprised you’d be a theatre kid,” Lyja chuckled haughtily, now miming heart-shapes with her wings to the crowds. She gave them a perfectly white smile, conveniently gritting her teeth as she followed up with a hissed, “And I’m not your ☌⍜⌇⊑ ⎅⏃⍀⋏⟒⎅ stalker.”

“Then what are you?” Johnny shot back. 

Lyja ignored him. She kept up the mugging Luna act even as he sighed and sat up.

“Lyja. Things began to change the second you showed up at Yancy Street. Whatever you’re showing me tonight, even if it’s not some slasher movie pucky, it won’t stop that. You run, you fight, I’m not letting you play the same game anymore.”

“Then let me have this,” Lyja said without turning around to face him. “Because if you truly didn’t hate me before Johnny Storm, you’d be a fool not to when we’re done.”

Johnny settled back into the seat, spine stone cold. Lyja had kept Luna’s shape but delivered that in her own voice.


22


“If you’re busy I can…” Princess Crystal Amaquelin of Attilan offered for the third time.

“It’s fine,” Twilight Sparkle countered. She gave Lockjaw a pat as he nuzzled her. A few months ago it would’ve knocked her over, but she’d gotten used to the large Unknown beast.

They were out on 616B’s landing, a small (if you didn’t count Lockjaw) circle: the two Unknowns, Twilight, Spike, Applejack, Peter and Fluttershy, who was hovering in the air just above Lockjaw, occasionally giving the dog’s tuning fork like antenna affectionate mid-air strokes.

“I swear I wasn’t planning on this,” Crystal said, one hoof resting on Lockjaw’s side. She stifled a yawn. “We only ’ported here because the Baxter Barn was empty.” She made a face. “Well. Empty.”

“H.E.R.B.I.E.,” Peter said, nodding gravely in sympathy. “Uh, look, if you need a place to crash, I’m sure—” 

That letting Johnny’s first true love, who needed to move on from him not one tenth as much as the Torch needed to move on from her, was up there with offering free, live toasters at your local swimming pool. 

“—we could set up the couch?” Peter offered anyway. He winced at a blast of Pinkie Pie party favours from behind 616’s door. “Y’know, after.”

“There’s Ponyville?” Spike suggested. 

“We’d be delighted,” Twilight said firmly before Crystal could half-heartedly object. She indicated Lockjaw with her horn. “We might have to Lockjaw it, or whatever the proper nomenclature is, because, well, it’s poker night and our portal is under a lot of rugs and twice as many hooves right now. But Spike speaks for both of us, our castle is your castle. Or I’m sure the others would be happy to offer their spare rooms if you want something less pretentious!”

“It’s more about somewhere for Lockjaw,” Crystal said, nuzzling the dog.

“I have plenty of room!” Fluttershy chimed in. Lockjaw reared up towards her, making her giggle. “If that would be alright with you. It’s perfectly understandable if you want to stick together.”

“That’d be great,” Crystal sighed. “Since we’re talking about staying over, would a bath or a shower be too much trouble?”

She ran a hoof through her orange mane, clearing some strands away from her forehead and further highlighting the black, circular patterns woven into it. The ponies couldn’t tell if it was some sort of headdress of a pigmentation thing. The Unknowns’ appearance varied as mysteriously as their powers did, sometimes combining seemingly incompatible species characteristics. 

“None,” Twilight confirmed. She gave her recent friend another once over. She’d like to think it was just that Crystal was tired from her time on the roads, but she couldn’t help a sisterly pang of concern. Crystal usually walked around in a yellow and black vest, which Twilight could make out under the jacket she was currently wearing over it.

It was fur lined around the collar and waxed, like the kind favoured by Equestria’s more northern explorers and towns/E.U.P. outposts. Crystal’s superpowers were a mastery of the elements at least on par with the Hex-Pony called Storm, which meant she could control her body temperature and even draw sufficient hydration out of water molecules in the air if there was no alternative. But that would take concentration and using a jacket for shelter suggested Crystal might not have a lot of energy for it.

“Have you eaten?” Applejack asked, as if reading Twilight’s mind.

“Sure!” Crystal said hurriedly, responding on Little Sister instincts the same as AJ had asked the question on Big Sister ones. Beat. “Uh. What day is it?”

“It’s Saturday,” Fluttershy supplied helpfully.

“Shoot. I’d set ya up with a proper meal on the farm,” Applejack said apologetically, “but it’d take a while and I’m due back in there.” She indicated the game with a nod of her head at the door. “My family’ll be more than happy to look after ya, it’d just be a bit much showing up with, well, Lockjaw and then runnin’ back out on ’em.”

“We’ve still got plenty of leftovers,” Twilight said, indicating herself and Spike. She turned to Crystal enthusiastically. “You’ve got to try them, remember when I told you how amazing Apple Family cooking is? It’s even better in person.”

“Sounds good,” Crystal smiled, allowing how tired she was to show in her face now.

“I can whip up something if you want,” Spike said enthusiastically. 

Twilight looked at him, surprised, then looked away, trying not to feel too guilty. It wouldn’t be that Spike was running out on her, but that awful box, it’s implications, the fact she hadn’t told him about it…

It wouldn’t be fixed tonight. 

“And I’d be happy to help Lockjaw get settled,” Fluttershy offered. The other two Elements looked up at her. “I’m not playing and the more familiar faces someone as big as him has around the better it’ll be for everypony. I’ll be sure to say goodnight to everypony who showed up before we leave, though!”

“They’ll understand, trust me,” Peter assured her, then smiled awkwardly at Crystal. “Uh, speaking of Lockjaw--”

The dog’s massive head turned towards Peter at the sound of his name, making the arachnoid back up, almost hiding behind Twilight, but he only panted enthusiastically. 

“Right…” Peter resumed uncomfortably. “I might have to bum a ride to Ponyville then right back, if that’d be okay?”

“Sure,” Crystal agreed. “Is it a friendship thing, or…?”

“He needs to grab a spare Spider-Pony outfit so we can get this danged game started already,” Applejack cut in before Peter could stumble through some sort of explanation. “It ain’t a long story but it can wait ’til you’re settled.”

“Alright,” Crystal smiled, an almost Johnnycake-esque impish gleam in her eyes. She gestured the three passengers closer. “We can go now if you’re already.”

“Let’s do it to it!” Spike actually fist-pumped. 

Twilight’s ears folded. Applejack put a gentle hoof on her shoulder as Spike bounded up to press a paw against Lockjaw’s leg, Fluttershy dropping gleefully onto his back as Peter carefully pressed a pad to the dog’s left shoulder. In a burst of Kirby Krakle strewn light the giant dog and his passengers were gone, a stream of invisible light-dots speeding towards Ponyville.


***


“It’ll be okay, sugar cube,” Applejack said gently. “Lil’ guy just needs some time to figure out whatever he’s figuring out.”

“I know,” Twilight sighed. “But I can’t blame him.”

“For what? He’s not mad at ya. Y’know that.”

“He’s got a right,” Twilight said.

Applejack was about to counter when a cloud of magenta, brimstone smelling air punched itself into a twin mushroom clouded existence in front of them. The landing now included five very stunned bodies tumbling out of nowhere and into the two Elements.

“Heiliger Strohsack!” exclaimed a velvety voice, smooth as it’s owner’s fur. “We made it!” A groan. “But remind me, Whisper, next time we mix our powers…”

“I’ll be sure not to be glowing,” the Scarlet Whisper agreed, struggling to her hooves. “Vision?!”

“Here, my love,” came a muffled voice from under the pile. The tangle shuddered as a translucent shape drifted through them, solidifying as it levitated in the air above them. “Is everypony alright?”

The Hex-Pony known as Nightcharger doubled over, hacking out a cloud of magenta smoke and some crimson sparks.

A Zebra with cocoa and golden stripes finished looking around, assessing the situation as she adjusted the strange headband that she always wore with her glorious snow-white mane. “Applejack? Princess Twilight?”

“Storm?” Twilight coughed. 

She rubbed her streaming eyes, nostrils full of the smell of Nightcharger’s smoke and foreign magic, performing her own headcount: Nightcharger and Storm, the Vision (wearing a sweater vest that reminded her incongruously of her father at Hearth’s Warming) and the Scarlet Whisper. 

“We appear to have made it back from the Dark Dimension,” the Vision observed, smoothing his ruffled yellow fin-mane.

“Was there-owie, owie, owie-eve any doubt?”

And-no—, dusting off her cape—no no-, fixing her hat—no no no—, looking at her now-agh-nonononoNo!

“Oh Great Pony in the Sky, you’ve gotta be kidddin’ me,” Applejack said.

“Nice to see you fillies too,” the Great and Powerful Trixie said tartly.


To be Continued