"Doggone it," Rainbow Dash snapped. "How hard can it be to track down this guy? I mean, how many one winged stallions do you have in this city?" She sucked on the straw of her soda, trying to soothe her irritation in sugar, caffeine and lemon-lime.

It had been a couple of days and the pony hunt had proven annoyingly unsuccessful. On top of all the other troubles and glitches the coming demo was having,the Princess of Loyalty was finding it irritating. She was at the Commissioner's office now, finding out more things to irritate her.

"Last count," Commissioner Gold Star said drolly, "about two hundred."

Rainbow Dash gawped. "Wha-?"

"That's not counting all the ones too young, too old, or who are missing the wrong wing," he added. "Then the numbers go up. By another hundred or so."

Rainbow Dash scowled. "Okay, explain."

Gold Star looked amused. "Princess, due to Windy Peak's, er, dual-layered construction, Windy City is a very popular resettlement community for grounded pegasi," he said. "We have a population here close to a million, with a sizable percentage of those being pegasi who have suffered debilitating accidents, illnesses, or birth defects that prevent them from flying. That in turn attracted businesses such as pegasus rehab clinics, which in turn attracted more transient and temporary residents with flight troubles..."

"...Wow," Dash said sincerely. "I... never thought about that." She had been planning on taking Scootaloo to one of the better rehab clinics, to see if they could tell them anything new- she set the thought aside rallied. "Still, a jet black stallion between their teens and twenties with a missing left wing-"

"That's assuming he was actually black, actually was missing a wing, and was actually even male," Gold Star countered. "The pranksters and protesters running around this city tend to wear disguises, and roll in powdered rainbow juice or use color-changing spells or potions to hide their real colors and their cutie marks. And it's been a fad among the extreme sports types lately to do their stunts with one wing literally tied behind their backs..."

Dash rubbed her temples with her wingtips as she paced the length of the office. "Great," she grumbled. "All we know for sure is he's male..."

"And how would you-" Dash gave Gold Star a wide eyed 'you darn well know how' look. "Uhh, don't answer that, Highness."

"Anyway," she coughed. "Definitely a stallion. I heard his voice. Heck, I was close enough to see the color of his eyes."
"What color?" Gold Star said, picking up a pencil. "And could you recognize his face again?"

"He had a scarf or something wrapped around his mouth," Dash said reminiscing. "But I looked right into his eyes... they were this icy blue-grey... and there wasn't a speck of fear in them. He had half the ponies in the building after him and he was vaulting through a room full of armed guards over the head of a Princess and he was as cool as a cucumber sandwich." Nopony present failed to notice that her eyes got a faraway look and an odd grin slowly grin across her face. She had kept the magically preserved rose with her all this time; she had it out and was running the petals thoughtfully under her chin. She noticed Gold Star staring at her with a raised eyebrow. "What?" she demanded.

Gold Star carefully said nothing.

"Look, crud, just tell your deputies to keep their eyes peeled for this guy," Dash said, her face NOT growing hot, no, it wasn't... " And give my head of security that list of one-winged ponies; she'll figure out something to make the search easier. He's... he's more important than I can tell you." The detection spell, thrumming to life when he was inches away...

Gold Star mulled over that suspiciously, then dismissed it. Meh, Princesses and their hangups. "Well we've got other issues to deal with besides a bunch of anonymous pranksters," he said. "The Crownbreakers have been out agitating; my men had to ride herd on three different protests. Small, maybe a couple dozen ponies and others- but each one's been a little bigger and a little rowdier than the last."

She stood and looked out the office window down (and there was a lot of 'down' around here) at the city. "And what are they saying?"

"What you might predict," he shrugged. "Mostly yelling and waving signs. Down with the Aristocracy, No More Fake Princesses-" Dash bristled a bit at that- "Celestia Equals Sombra, Zebras out of Griffonstone, Meat is Murder..."

"Wait, what, back up?" Dash said, turning away from the window to stare at him, eyebrow cocked.

Gold Star's eyebrows were as level as a table. "You'd be amazed, Highness, at how many ponies see a protest- ANY protest- as an excuse to stand in the street blocking traffic, waving signs and yelling their favorite random stupid things at total strangers. There's all sorts in this lot, from aristocratic traditionalists to ponies who want to abolish Parliament and make Equestria a collectivist commune to those who want to return to the 'traditional' separatist rule of Three Tribes to those who think Celestia and Luna are lizard people in disguise. Every flavor of crazy, but they all have 'down with the princesses' as a common slogan."

Spitfire, who was leaning in the corner, keeping a casual but alert watch, spoke up. "Are they dangerous?"

Gold Star shook his head. "Mostly harmless," he said. "But whoever's bankrolling them... I'm no so sure. I've seen way too many mass-produced fliers and banners lately. Most of these ninnies are more the poster board and magic-marker crowd. And these "spontaneous" protests have been too coordinated."

Dash scowled to herself. "Is this happening in other places in Equestria?"

"A good question," Spitfire said.

"Not as I've heard," Gold Star said, "and that makes me more suspicious. Why here, why now?"

Dash's scowl deepened. "That's easy," she muttered. She was having a rare moment of insight. "It's because they think I'm the weakest."

"The weakest?" Gold Star said.

"Of the new Princesses," she said. "Politically, I mean. Twilight was personally groomed by Celestia since she was a foal. Rarity, she's got this in the bag; she's more fancy shmancy class in one fake eyelash than most ponies have in their whole bodies, and she's got a whole network of upper-crust ponies she knows from Fancy Pants on down. Applejack is already the blue-collar pony's princess, and Pinkie Pie has Luna herself watching her back. And Fluttershy, she's famous from being a fashion model, almost as classy as Rarity, and so pretty and sweet that everypony loves her anyway.

"Me? I'm not any of that. I'm a scruffy jock, and everybody thinks jocks are jerks; I haven't got any huge family or fancy pedigree or hookups with the rich and powerful; I don't know diddly about politics and as far as class goes? Last night at dinner I nearly stabbed myself in the eye with my salad fork. If you wanted to make a big political mess, you could start at worse places than with me."

"Which brings us," drawled Harshwhinny as she strolled in, holding her clipboard in one hoof, "To Prince Ajax of Griffonstone. Despite everything you did make what I perceived as a fairly good impression on him." She paused. "Even after the fork in the eye thing." Dash stifled a groan. "Contrary to every bit of common sense, he seems to approve of your... rough cut personality." The mare's expression indicated just how preposterous she found that concept. "My sources say he is quite looking forward to the Wonderbolts performance, and a chance to see, quote, 'Equestria's Warrior Princess' in action."

"Warrior Princess?" Dash said in disbelief.

"Well, of the three tribes we pegasi have the most militant history," Gold Star pointed out. "Plus you personally have mixed it up with a lot of monsters and villains over the years, if my sources are correct, so that would give you something of a reputation..." The world-weary law enforcer actually looked intrigued. "Is it true about the changeling invasion...?"

"Oh that, yup."

"The sonic rainboom, of course-"

"Definitely."

"...Kicked a dragon in the face?"

"Eeeyup. Not one of my better moments, but yeah," she added under her breath. "So he's heard of all that, huh? Here's hoping that the Wonderbolts show impresses him as much."

"As to the show, I've been talking to the local weather board. We've got good news and bad news," Gold Star said. He leaned back in his office chair and gave Dash a wry grin. "The bad news is that it's going to require a change of venue. They have a demo in their main building..."

"Finally, some progress," Dash said, ruffling her wings. "Let's get a move on, I wanna see this!"

---

"Cool," Rainbow Dash said, leaning over the table. Tiny cumulus clouds scattered before her prodding hoof, falling apart and swirling back together. "I've heard of these things before but the Ponyville branch of the Weather Bureau never had the budget for it."

"We're, ah, fortunate that way," the pegasus pony manning the table said, tugging on the collar of his lab coat. "Windy City certainly has the revenue base for the newer weather management tools, not to mention the incentive."

They were gathered around what in weather pony parlance was known as a smoke table. No smoke was actually involved of course, but rather a thick, magically treated fog. The table itself was a detailed relief map, actually more of a miniature model, of Windy Peak and the surrounding valleys and mountains. Small puffs of fog- miniature clouds- floated across the board, driven by tiny vents simulating the wind. The weather ponies fortunate to have one of these expensive magical devices could use them to run simulations for every kind of weather. The tiny clouds could even precipitate.

Right now everypony's attention was on the model of the Pegasus quarter and the cloudiseum slowly revolving around the peak of Windy City. A lime green pegasus technician in labcoat and safety helmet was standing over the table, fiddling with the settings.

"So you're proposing using a Thunderstorm as a temporary arena?" Dash said. She grinned and gave the cake-sized cloudy mass a poke. Teeny lightning bolts sparkled. "Okay, that's as hardcore as anything I could imagine, but there are some obvious problems..."

"A proto-thunderstorm, actually," the weather technician said, scratching his mane under his hard hat. "See, the problem with creating a temporary cloudiseum of sufficient size for the predicted audience was that anything we built was going to be so large it would break down and turn into a thunderstorm anyway. But a couple of the cloud engineers had the brainstorm, aha, of not fighting it, but working WITH it. See," he poked at the center of the miniature cloud, "the center is hollowed out. It's actually a huge storm ring, which will slow and diminish the updrafts to controlled levels."

Now Dash was in her element. She peered closely at the model. "Oh, I get it... Dispersing the mass in a wide toroid will let the natural updrafts and downdrafts continue, but at a slower rate... a thunderstorm in slow motion," she said. "nice.'

"The entire storm itself will be most of a mile high, and a mile across. Most of that will be raining... but it will be topped with thousand feet of cool stable upper cloud, perfect for seating, and an open amphitheatre area for aerial performances nearly a mile wide.

"But anything below the first thousand feet will still be too compressed, it will be continually precipitating... over Lee Valley... which solves the rainfall schedule problem! Sweet!" Dash cackled, giving the technician a jarring backslap.

"Of course," the technician wheezed, adjusting his jarred helmet, "the rainfall will be both heavy and quite steady, lasting for at least three days. The winds will be minimal, but there will be on the balance a lot of cloud-to-cloud lightning in the lower portions..." he used a pointer to prod at the miniature storm, indicating the dozens of tiny cloud-flashes sparkling on its underbelly.

Dash hopped up on a chair and looked down through the center of the coliseum, looking at the tiny lightning flashes below. "Which will look totally awesome," she breathed.

Spitfire jumped up on the other side of the table and peered down inside as well. "Oh yeah," she chuckled. "Our ponies ripping up the sky, a hundred thousand ponies looking on, thunder and lightning flashing up a well of clouds from a thousand feet below... "

The princess and the wonderbolt locked eyes. "Totally. Awesome," they said simultaneously. Their matching grins would have made better stallions than the ones present nervous. "Are your weather facilities up to this?" Dash demanded of the weather technician.

"Oh, easily," he said. "Windy City is part of the civil defense initiative. We could whip up a chain of thunderstorms this size."(1) He shrugged. "Or a few thousand emergency cloud-shelters, or several billion cubic feet of building-grade cloud from C grade all the way up to triple A... we're a bit over-engineered, really."

"Then this is a go," Dash said enthusiastically. "Spitfire, tell the others, let 'em know we'll be performing in a WAY bigger venue. Harshwhinny, tell our publicists to crank out fliers, newspaper ads, the works, to let everypony know about the venue change. No, the venue upgrade. Big bold headlines..."

She stood on her hind legs on her chair, spreading her forehooves wide as she pictured the title. "The all-new Wonderbolts show, this week- only at THE THUNNNNDERDOOOOME !"

"...Tickets transferrable," Harshwhinny added in an underspoken monotone.

"Heh. The squirt's gonna love this," Spitfire said.

"Whoa, thanks for the reminder," Dash said. She jumped down off her chair and whipped out her compact. "Gimme a minute..."

---

There are some readers who might wonder or even be alarmed at the apparently casual, if not to say careless, approach Rainbow Dash took to keeping track of her temporary ward. The reader would be advised to remember that Rainbow Dash was raised a pegasus, and was surrounded by a staff composed almost entirely of pegasi, and traditionally, the pegasus approach to raising their offspring could be most generously called 'free range.' Earth ponies might be focused on keeping the colts and fillies close to the herd, and unicorn child rearing could be regarded as fairly fussy, bordering on helicopter parenting, but for pegasi, spending most of their time airborne, hurtling through the sky at breakneck speeds, and living in houses made of magically clumped mist thousands of feet above the cold hard ground tended to inure parents to the comparatively minor perils of childhood.

As it was, Dash was getting a bit of ribbing about even her fairly hooves-off approach to watching after Scootaloo. When the average parent's approach to their child getting hit by lightning is "Well now! Hurt, din't it? That'll learn ya to keep kickin' clouds like that," checking up on one's charge every few hours via a magic mirror hanging around her neck seemed positively smothering. "Scootaloo. Hey squirt, you there?"

Across town (and slightly lower in altitude) Scootaloo felt her compact buzz against her collarbone. "Whups, scuse me guys," she said. "Be right back?" She trotted to the nearest store on the street.

"What's up?" Crackerjack called after her. "We're about to get started!"

Scootaloo quickly opted for the quick-draw solution Rarity had taught her and the other girls for dealing with Annoying Questions from Colts. "Filly stuff," she shouted over her shoulder as she ran inside. "You know-"

Various sounds of TMI echoed back. She snickered as she fled indoors to the store washroom. Rarity had been right on the money about that trick, apparently. She locked the bathroom door and opened her compact. "Hey, what's up?"

"Hi squirt," Rainbow Dash's voice piped up from the mirror. "Just doing the hourly checkup on ya. Everything good?"

"Yeah, Dash," Scootaloo said. "Me 'n the other kids were about to do a downhill scooter race. I gotta get back quick or they're gonna start whining. Anything else real quick?"

"Nah, just have fun," Dash laughed. "And... be safe, y'know? Those Crown Breakers are out there tryin' to raise a ruckus."

"Losers," Scootaloo snorted. A bunch of wannabe rebels trying to overthrow the Princesses? Dash would whup their butts in ten seconds flat.

"You seen any sign of 'em?"

"Not really, just posters and stuff... and I've been keeping an eye out for that one-winged stallion, too. There were a lot of them at that one rest home, but none o' those guys coulda taken on a bunch of watchponies and guards." The Nobody's Fools often rolled past the Windy City Retirement Home when the ponies there were out. They were a nice bunch of ponies, and seemed to like the colts.

It was sad, really; ponies did what they could, but the reality was that a lot of ponies' special talents were tied pretty closely to which of the three tribes they belonged. If a unicorn lost their horn, or an earth pony went lame, it was really really bad. Sometimes there were work-arounds, or they could find some way to re-direct their talents. But if a pegasus couldn't fly anymore- well, whatever career they'd had their entire lives, even their life in a cloud community, was pretty much over. There were a lot of pegasi in the retirement home, and a lot of them weren't much older than her dad...

Now Scootaloo wasn't dumb. It had occurred to her that Mach One might be the one-winged Stallion... but she completely dismissed the idea for two reasons. One, they were looking for a one-winged STALLION, and Mach was cool, but he was only a teenager, and a pretty lanky one. There was no way he could've whupped up on scores of guards like the pony Dash was looking for. Besides, he was one of the Nobody's Fools, and all the grownups were talking all the time about these Crown Breaker guys. So the mental connection was never made...

"Okay, I gotta go, Dash," she said. "See you at sunset." She snapped the compact closed and ran out of the restroom.

A moment later she burst out onto the street and grabbed her scooter from where it was leaning against a lamppost. "Okay, so let's do this," she said. "So what's the course and what's the time trial?"

"Whoa, somepony's gung-ho," Mach chuckled, trotting up next to her. "Okay, see this nice wide road we're on?" He pointed down the road to where it curved hard to the right and out of sight. "This here is Kessel Road, the main drag of Windy City... at least down on the ground." He tossed his head up, indicating the Pegasus Quarter high overhead dismissively.

"It runs from the base of the skybridge to the Academy-" He pointed behind them to where the legendary walkway started its path up through the clouds, "-all the way down the Southern slope of the mountain, zig-zagging back and forth across the entire face. Used to be the only way up to the peaks, till they got the cable cars and the lifts laid in... it had trains of earthpony wagons plodding up and down the mountain all day. Now it's a a gentrified boulevard, with little shops and fancy villas and inns and little push-cart vendors at the corners..." his grin widened. "...And the longest, sweetest street-surfer run in the city." The other colts cheered and whistled in agreement.

"So some of us here are trying to beat our best times doing the Kessel run," Mach said. "Best time is twelve minutes, by yours truly." He polished a hoof on his chest smugly.

"Okay, course breakdown: There are six right turns, six left turns, all hairpin, with straight runs in between. Fourth straightaway is a steep downhill, second and third are almost level- you might even need to push a little to keep from losing speed on the third. The main drag is clear, and its usually pretty empty but keep an eye out for carts and pedestrians, especially past the sixth turn. Wheezer, Spritz, Presto, and Softy are on lookout, but don't take anything for granted. Be on the lookout for brass and badges."

Scootaloo nodded and grunted. In the few days she'd been running around with the Fools, the importance of the lookouts had been impressed on her quite thoroughly. It seemed city hall was waging something of dirty-pool war on the Fools and all the other skate brats in the city. The Mayor had weaseled through countless penny-ante ordinances that made it illegal to scooter, skate, board, or parkour in half the city, and legally risky in most of the other half. A number of the surlier city watchponies were in on it as well, constantly harassing the Fools and hitting them up on sight with citations for any petty infraction they could fabricate. It was unjust and unfair, but what could you do? Nothing but lay low, stick to the out-of-way corners, and put up lookouts to blow the whistle if they saw anypony in brass armor heading their way.

Scootaloo did feel a twinge of guilt about bending the law like that, but she reasoned that so long as they didn't actually run afoul of any watchpony or guard, no harm no foul, right?

"Wings and magic are fair game, but no flying. Oh, and remember- any and all shortcuts are legit," Mach finished with a knowing grin. "If you can take 'em." He tugged the straps on his battered rollerblades and crouched down at the chalk-scribbled mark on the street that served as the starting line. "Try and keep up, newbie," he said to Scootaloo.

"Keep up?" Scootaloo said. She glared at him with an evil smirk and pulled her goggles down over her eyes. "ohohoh, you're gonna regret those words..." She crouched down over her handlebars and her wings started to buzz.

"On your marks..." Mach said. A half-dozen scooters, skateboards and sets of roller skates, some shiny new, some home made from soapbox boards and shopping cart wheels, edged up to the line.

"Get set..." Scootaloo felt the wind eddies in the roots of her feathers as she tensed up. She could almost feel Flute on one side of her on his two-wheeler folding scooter, Bananas Foster on the other side in his old-fashioned "quad" skates, both crowding close.

"GoOOOHHHOLY BUCKING HAY!"

BZZZZZZZZAAAAAaaaaaaawwwwwwww...

They'd been expecting the New Girl to put in a good showing. They had not expected her to all but explode off the starting line like a skyrocket. By the time the others recovered from the surprise and the blast of her tailwind, she was halfway down the first leg of the hill and accelerating. It took a few seconds for some of them to right themselves. "Holy Cats, look at that filly GO!" Crackerjack yelled.

"So what's everypony all waiting for, go go go-!" Mach all but dove down the hill after the vanishing filly, his gang right behind him, whooping and striking sparks off the pavement.

Scootaloo whooped in glee over the buzz-saw roar of her wings. Now this was the stuff! This first leg started with that awesome steep hill; between that and her wing-power she was already ripping down the road. As she passed the first bend she adjusted her goggles and looked back. She didn't even have to turn her head; this was a pair of gen-u-wine Wonderbolts goggles, with their little-known special feature: the goggles had tiny angled mirrors inside- built-in rear-view mirrors so you could see straight behind, and to a lesser degree above or below you at any time. She could see the pack behind her clear as day; She was already halfway to the first turn but they were catching up fast. Flute and Firecracker's horns were glowing and fizzing like road flares as they accelerated after her. Bowser was doing pretty good on his soapbox scooter, his earth pony muscles propelling him forward with every kick of a back hoof, his tongue hanging out and trailing in the breeze.

Of the older colts, Zonk was pretty well in the lead on his worn but beloved skateboard. Scootaloo snickered as she remembered Bananas Foster's joke about how it was probably the zonkey's stripes made him go faster... as for Foster himself, he was sort of flailing along in the back of the pack on his old fashioned four-square street skates, that ridiculous wide tie he always wore flapping behind him like a banner. And Mach One...

Scootaloo let out a gasp as he came zooming round the corner. He was MOVING, peeling around the hairpin turn, lying almost sideways as he leaned into the turn on his rollerblades. He weaved in and out among the others, using his one wing like a rudder, slicing the air, moving among the rest of the pack like they were standing still.

Scootaloo hastily snapped her attention forward, and gunned it. She reached the second hairpin and took it at full speed, skidding around the flower shop at the corner in a Neighpon drift. For a moment the street behind her was clear... then the others reappeared in the most surprising way imaginable- around, over, between and even THROUGH the corner shoppe and its neighbor, vaulting over trash cans in the alley, hopping to the low roof on the uphill side and taking daring roll-drops off the downhill one, even shooting in through the back door and rocketing out the front to shrieks of alarm and shouts of agitation from those inside. Mach had to do a flip over a display rack full of flower pots, then his wheels were hitting the street not a yard behind Scootaloo. The Fools were all around her, whistling and whooping.

So that's what he meant by "all shortcuts are fair game- if you can take them," she thought.

She looked up ahead and grinned. The first straggling bits of traffic were showing up; carts and wagons dotted the street ahead, ambling slowly uphill, downhill, and across as if they had all the time in the world. The Kessel boulevard was now a moving obstacle course. A pony would have to be crazy to slalom that...

Almost are crazy as me, she thought. She grinned and revved for the first wagon. It was a buckboard piled high with clay pots, the pony pulling it moving across her path at a slow amble. She could almost have ducked and ridden underneath it...

Almost.

Instead she took a deep breath, folded her handlebars down and leapt off her scooter. She sailed over the loaded wagon, clearing the stacked pots by mere inches, her scooter rolling through underneath. By the time the cargo pony had yelped in alarm her hooves had already thwacked down on the deck of her scooter and she was on her way. The cargo pony shouted again as the Nobody's Fools swarmed under, over and around him- and then left him far behind, still standing there with his forehooves over his head... not a single pot so much as chipped.

Scootaloo laughed out loud. These guys really WERE crazy!

Scootaloo still led the pack by a length. She swerved around a hansom cab, threaded the needle between two push carts hawking their wares, vaulted over a pair of ponies inexplicably carrying a ladder across the middle the street... there was the next hairpin turn; she took it at speed, skimming along the inside of the turn-

Just as she took it she heard the lookout's whistle. Two long, two short... what was that? Oh right, road blocked ahead. The moment she cleared the corner she found herself bearing down on a solid wall of carts, road barricades and ponies. She caught a glimpse of Spritz up on a rooftop, waving a rag to try and flag them down.

She had no choice but to throw herself into a lowside, falling sideways and sliding across the pavement. Her saddlebag took the worst of it, saving her from a nasty case of road rash, but she still slid a dozen feet, her head barely missing a nasty rap against the axle of a parked push-cart before she came to a wedged halt underneath it. "oof," she grunted. Not the most dignified landing she'd ever pulled off...

She was already squeezing back out from underneath and dusting herself off when Soft Touch came galloping up, the handle of his first aid kit in his mouth and frantic worry in his wide eyes. "A yoo okay?" he said. He spat out the handle and frantically looked Scootaloo over. "Oh, oh, you skinned your hip, hold still-" He popped open the first aid box and dug through it.

"Ahh, it's just a little road rash- eyouch!" Scootaloo protested. Softy was already dabbing iodine on the shallow scrapes. "Hey, back off..."

"Might as well just bite the bullet, Newbie," Mach chuckled as he skidded to a halt. "He won't quit till your boo-boos are all bandaged." The others came rolling up behind him. "Ouch, rough way to get a Cutie mark."

She looked back. He was right; the worst of the rash was right over the spot on her left hip where her Cutie Mark would be. And it felt like she had splinters in her right, from banging against the underside of the cart. "It's not really that-" she involuntarily sighed in relief as soothing ointment was daubed on the road burn. In a twinkling her flank was covered in clean white bandages. He was already around the other side with tweezers, pulling the chipped wood out of her skin, dabbing iodine and ointment, and slapping a stick-on bandaid in place. "Okay, thanks. Huh." She wiggled her hip. "Wow, you're good at that."

"I get lots of practice with these guys," Softy said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Foster chortled. "Remember Fire Ant Hill, Firecracker?"

"I remember Fire Ant Hill," Firecracker said dolefully. "Landed wrong and took a skid-and-roll for like twenty feet." He smirked. "But not half as well as Bowser remembers that endo he did last month."

Bowser grimaced and gave a puppy-like whimper. "Passed under a construction sawhorse. Didn't get low enough," Bowser confessed. Firecracker laughed as Bowser cringed. "Caught it on the kisser and did a backflip down the street."

Scootaloo ouched. "I can almost feel it," she said.

"Yeah. I remember the day I came out of a back alley and the road crews had just torn up the asphalt on Fifth and Vine... yeeeeeeee," Foster gave a dramatic shudder. "'S why Soft Touch loads up on odds and ends and leftovers at the hospital. Between all of us, we've probably left enough skin behind on the pavement for Softy to build a whole 'nother pony."

"So what IS all this, anyway?" Mach said, waving the crowd blocking the way. There were hundreds of ponies, and more than a handful of pushcarts- like the one Scootaloo had almost T-boned- parked around it or weaving through it, taking the opportunity to hawk their wares. The mob had completely ignored the minor road debacle, in favor of... whatever was happening just out of sight down the street.

Spritz came gliding down from his lookout point. "Couple of watchponies heading this way," he said. "We better move." He was right; several ponies with sour looks on their faces and the badges, breastplates and brass pot helmets of the city watch were working their way over in their general direction. Probably attracted by the loud berating of the owner of the push cart with which Scootaloo had collided. The Nobody's Fools wisely beat hooves and were long gone by the time the scowling guards got to where all the noise was coming from.

Undeterred, however, they took a detour through the alleys to the next intersection, determined to see what had interrupted their rad shredding. The intersection was taken up by a particular mob of ponies wearing buttons and waving badly-lettered signs. A teal-colored mare with a bowl-cut mane-do, horn rimmed glasses, black lipstick that turned her lips into a grim line and a prominent nose piercing was standing on a rickety hoof-made platform, barking into a microphone. She was leading the crowd in a chant, or at least trying to.

"Oh great," Bananas Foster snorted. "The college kids are down off Mount Pretentious to lecture the little pony again."

"College kids?" Scootaloo said, cocking her head. "How can you tell?"

"Mostly by the smell of patchouli," Mach said drily. "But also the pretentiousness." It was true that most of the ponies at the center of the crowd were fairly young, though. There were a great number of baggy turtlenecks, nose and lip piercings, bowl cuts dyed in strange colors(2), dreadlocks and anemic goatees. The signage was a higgledy piggledy of slogans, acronyms, and symbols, only some of which Scootaloo could even make sense. Prevalent among them, though, was a particular symbol: a crown circled in red and crossed out. "Hey!" Spritz barked. "They're ripping me off! That's just like MY symbol! I oughta sue!"

It was true. Spritz's graffiti art always had one particular identifying feature: no matter how complex or simple, whether it was a colorful mural or more colorful slogan, somewhere in the image would be a circled and barred jester's cap; the semi-official logo of the Nobody's Fools. These ponies were using a symbol that looked like some lazy pony had traced Spritz's jester cap, twiddled it a bit to make the jester's cap look like a crown, and then passed it off as their own work. Many of the signs were crudely drawn in marker and crayon... but a lot of them looked like they'd been professionally printed. In bulk.

"Hey, these must be those 'crownbreaker' guys," Scootaloo said. She squinted at the signs. "But it looks like they're calling themselves the... 'Ponies for Ethical and Accountable Royalty Succession?"

"PEARS?" Bowser said, scratching behind his ear in puzzlement. Nopony had an answer for that.

"More like NUTS," somepony muttered.

"I dunno. Some of 'em say "PERSA. Others say ERPSA... the printed looking ones say PARSE though."

The disorganized chant was starting to become more coherent.

"Hey, Hey, Ho, Ho, Phony Princesses Gotta Go!
Hey, Hey, Ho, Ho, Phony Princesses Gotta Go!"

Only then did Scootaloo notice that the ponies backing up the chanter were waving effigies overhead; effigies of Celestia, Luna, Cadence- and the Mane Six. Many of the signs had crude caricatures drawn of the neophyte princesses along with their rude slogans- and way too many of them were of Rainbow Dash for Scootaloo's tastes.

The mare leading the chant was making an announcement: " And now a word from our founder- Poindexter Heraldry!" She stepped back from the microphone; another pony stepped up as the protesting ponies cheered and whistled. He was a lanky, creamsicle-orange unicorn with a poorly dreadlocked yellow mane and a prominent adam's apple. He was wearing another variant of the standard protester pony style; a stylishly scuffed and scruffy turtleneck sweater two sizes too big with round patches on the elbows, horn-rimmed glasses, and the fixed, earnest expression of the witlessly gormless who had found himself a Great and Important Cause. A cutie mark of a family crest could be seen on his hip, despite his obvious artless efforts to hide it below the sagging hem of his sweater. He seized the microphone and began to speak with the loud urgency of somepony trying to disclose the secret ingredient of Soylent Green before security closed in.

"Ponies of Equestria!" he said. "We are Ponies for an Accountable Royal Succession in Equestria! We have a message that must be heard...!" He held up a sheaf of papers in front of him in his magic and launched into his urgent, and to judge by the number of pages in his magical grip quite LONG, speech...

Presto came trotting up behind the group. He was towing a toy wagon loaded with boxes, bottles, jars, books, and Wheezer. Wheezer was studiously reading a shiny new comic. "Sorry we're late," Presto said. "We had to stop at the book store. The latest Power Ponies was out, and there was a new edition of Fundamentals of Morphic Resonance..."

"Fine, whatever," Mach grunted. "Not like we're going anywhere anyway." He nodded in the direction of the podium. " Blah Blah the Wonder Windbag up there is blocking the road."

"Ah nuts," Presto said. "I saw a couple of other little groups up and down Kessel Boulevard on the way here. Apparently they're doing a filibuster."

"What's a filibuster?" Scootaloo asked.

"It's when somepony gets in the way and keeps talking and talking and talking until you finally punch them to shut them up," growled Crackerjack.

"There's an old city ordinance that states that so long as the protesting group isn't obstructing traffic or disturbing the peace or breaking other laws, civil protests cannot be interrupted or broken up by the authorities," Wheezer suddenly piped up. He took a hit off his inhaler and continued. "Of course you'll note that the ponies actually wearing those PEARS or PARSE or whatever pins aren't blocking traffic themselves... just all the ponies that stopped to gawk."

"Activists figured out real quick that they could jam up the works for the whole city this way, and keep it that way till they got whatever it was they were demanding," Presto added. "Some pony a hundred years ago lobbying for donkey and mule civil rights held out for six days like that, till city hall folded and revoked a bunch of bad laws."

"Jim Crow," Zonkey said. "big hero around here to us half-breeds."

"Now every trust-fund foal on Scholar's Peak with Daddy issues tries to emulate him," Mach snorted. "It's so we get a protest traffic jam every other weekend, almost."

"And then there's THIS Poozer," Foster said with a humorless grin, dramatically pointing at the ranting unicorn on the podium. Wheezer squinted at the pony, then picked up a pair of toy binoculars and stared at the speaker through them... or rather, the family crest emblazoned on his rump.

"Huh. Blue and gold divided quartedly, with a bar or baton sinister(3)- supporters are unicorns rampant, can't read the motto..." he said idly. "I'd need my 'Prince Valor Fan Guide to Coats of Arms' to be sure..." he took a hit off an inhaler, squeaked and hawked for a moment in a squirrely falsetto, shaking his head to clear his throat again.

"Wait, that's his cutie mark?" Zonk said. He took the binoculars, looked and snorted. "I know that guy. He's a total cake-eater, and a real jerk. I deliver pizzas to his fraternity all the time. The only time he takes a break from lecturing everypony in earshot about the plight of the lower classes and minorities is to talk down to the one delivering his dinner and try to cheat on his bill."

"Sounds like a real charmer," Mach one said drolly, crossing one leg over the other and leaning against a lamppost. You could serve the sarcasm in his voice with a spatula. "I like his Nightmare Night costume, though. I see he's going as one of the Oppressed Proletariat. Artistically frayed bohemian sweater and everything." The others snickered.

"Oh man, hipsters," Bananas Foster groaned. At Scootaloo's puzzled grunt, he sat down in the road, gave her a grin and went into 'lecture' mode. "Tell me, young apprentice, do you know any obnoxious, arrogant snobs?" Scootaloo thought of Diamond Tiara- then of Diamond Tiara's mother- and nodded. "Good. You see, my dear out of town Newbie, a Hipster is an obnoxious arrogant snob who decided that being an obnoxious arrogant snob wasn't obnoxious and arrogant enough."

"Really?" Scootaloo boggled at the concept.

"Yes, really," Foster went on. "They're obnoxious, arrogant, and trying to pose as one of the 'little people.' To show how enlightened they are, of course."

"And don't forget 'trendy,' " Mach One said with an amused lip curl.

"Oh yes, oh so trendy too," Foster agreed. "They're just too cool to like anything other ponies do. They listen to bands that are so hip and trendy nopony's heard of them. They only read books nopony else reads. They only drink cider that comes from orchards nopony's heard of. They spend hundreds of bits at Equestrian Outfitters so they can look like they 'found' a new look dumpster-diving for clothes at the charity house. They join new social causes nopony cares about. And if anypony, anywhere ever starts getting into any of the stuff they are into, they'll spend all their time telling you that they were doing it before you did. And then they stop liking it- because now it's 'mainstream.'"

Scootaloo's brow furrowed. "So basically hipsters are like ponies trying to jump in ahead of a herd to make it look like they're leading it," she said.

Foster smirked and stroked his chin. "That's a pretty good way of putting it," he admitted.

Scootaloo nodded. "But what happens if they like something nopony EVER likes? Or they really, really like something that other ponies do too?"

"Oh well then, they like it 'ironically,' " Foster said.

"What's 'ironically' mean?"

"Not even THEY know."

While the Nobody's Fools jibed, Poindexter Heraldry was getting up a head of steam. He was all but shouting into the microphone at this point, his tone strident."You ask us what our cause is for being here today-"

"No we didn't," Crackerjack said. "Don't know, don't care."

"-But our cause is evident!"

"Badly repressed Daddy issues?" Foster snarked.

"We are being done wrong by the government, nay, by the Crown itself!" Poindexter pontificated. "For centuries the common pony has gone unrepresented in the highest levels of power-"

"Yeah, all those poor downtrodden unicorn nobles, denied the throne for generations," somepony quipped.

"We have lived for generations, believing that Ascendancy was a rare, historical event, one carefully moderated and governed by our ever-lauded Sun Princess," Poindexter went on. "We accepted it when the lesser Princess, Mi Amore Cadenza, was brought forward. We understood when Princess Luna was returned from her long exile." He scowled fiercely. "But now Princess Celestia has lost all semblance of restraint and impartiality. She has foisted not one, but SIX new Alicorn Princesses on us in a single day! Six!

"Six utterly unaccountable, unworthy ponies raised to alicornhood and inflicted on us!" He had a full head of steam now. He pointed a hoof at Scholar's Peak, where the Thunderstreak was now docked. "Even now one of these overprivileged, undeserving ponies is being feted and feasted at Alicorn Academy by the professors of the university and the leaders of our city... enjoying the privileges of a crown that she received from Celestia's irresponsible pandering hoof as if it were a party favor-

"And who is she? A scholar, a statespony, a ruler and leader? A pony with a legacy of noble heritage? No...she's an ATHLETE. A showboating wannabe who dropped out of flight school and who wasn't fit for anything till now but cloud-pushing-!"

"Hey!" Scootaloo started forward fully intending to give the stallion a piece of her mind, preferably at the end of her hoof, but Mach One grabbed her tail and jerked her to a halt.

"Whoa, there, fangirl, you tryin' to get us busted by the Guard?" he said. He pointed with his chin, pointing out the watch ponies standing around the edges of the crowd, looking surly and irritated. "They're already honked they have to babysit this demonstration," he said, keeping his voice low. "And they're looking for an excuse to crack some heads. Let's not give it to them, okay?"

Scootaloo stopped trying to rush the stage. She was a little stunned. Really, the guard ponies here would do stuff like that?

The crowd at this point was divided. Most of them were just bored and curious, or annoyed at the interruption to their day. Quite a few were of a mind with Scootaloo and were booing the stallion, but almost as many others were beginning to make sounds of agreement with him. Scootaloo looked up at Mach, distraught. "We can't let him talk about Rainbow Dash like that !" she said. "She's not like that! None of them are! It's not right!"

Mach One stared at her. Scootaloo bit her lip and looked away. Not once had she even hinted that she was even in the entourage of "Princess Rainbow," much less that she was her honorary sister. Scootaloo had her pride after all; she didn't want anypony thinking she was flaunting it in other pony's faces like Diamond Tiara or Silver Spoon would... and she had a feeling that these guys would be the opposite of impressed if she did tell them anyway. But she wasn't going to just stand there and let some dumb ponies insult her honorary big sister, either...!

Mach looked down at her for a minute, then his expression changed.. "Huh. Guess you are a princess fangirl, aren't you," he said after a moment. "Okay guys. Let's list off their crimes. These guys are makin' a ruckus in our town. "

"They're saying mean things about ponies they don't even know," Softy said, looking hurt on the absent princesses' behalf.

"They busted up our race!" Crackerjack said, stamping a hoof.

"And they smell bad," Bowser said, wrinkling his nose. "On purpose." He'd passed by a couple of the patchouli-drenched protesters on the way. The others snorted and snickered.

"-And the most heinous crime of all," Bananas Foster said, his voice all but rolling in sarcasm, "They're hipsters, and hipsters suck."

"So stand the charges," Mach one said. "All agreed?" There was a chorus of 'ayes.' "So be it, The Council of Dweebs has Spoken. The sentence? I'm calling Fair Game for the next- oh, two hours- on all the ponies running this protest." There was muted cheering and some sinister chuckles. "Remember the rules:," Mach said with a glint in his eye. "One at a time, no permanent damage, no blood no foul, no bystanders, team-ups are okay, and first one caught ends the round."

"Fair Game?" Scootaloo asked him.

Mach One smirked. "Watch and learn, newbie. Flute, you go first."

The mute little pony got an absolutely evil smirk on his face. He crept forward till he was at the edge of the crowd and lit up his horn. A moment later, one of his sound-bubbles drifted off the end of his horn. Scootaloo had come to learn that Flute had a surprising amount of versatility with his magic; he could play musical notes, sound effects, even a short word or two like "Hey!" or "Yeah!" He could make the sound play right out of his horn, or generate a glowing little pearl of magic that would float around where he directed, playing the sound of choice... or make it drift along, silently as a soap bubble, to a target of his choosing.

This time it was a "stealth" bubble. It drifted along near ground level, weaving among the hooves of the gathered ponies, too faint to see against the daylight, till it reached a dreadlocked mare standing next to the podium. It drifted silently under the hem of her fringed skirt. "And it is time," Poindexter was saying, "That these Princesses started listening to the ninety-nine percent-"

FWERT.

Poindexter froze in mid sentence, his mouth hanging open, and stared in shock at the mortified mare from whom the incredibly loud fart had emanated. Scootaloo could see her shaking her head and mouthing protestations- it wasn't me!- that Poindexter clearly wasn't believing. The ponies next to her didn't look like they were believing it either.

After a pointed glare at the red faced mare, Poindexter obviously decided to ignore it. He turned his attention back to the microphone."Ahem. As I was saying, it is time for the Princesses to heed-"

BRAPP.

This next eruption was so vehement it raised a dust cloud off the street. Several nearby ponies called out in disgust, and a couple of pegasi fanned their wings to try and blow the imagined fart-cloud away. Poindexter rounded on the mortified mare, glaring. "Oh for heaven's sake, Musical Fruit, if you weren't feeling well after eating bean burritos for breakfast you should have-" ... Unfortunately he had turned his tail to the microphone, and never saw the faint bubble of magic floating up and into the receiver.

PRRROOOWWPPP-P-P-p-p-p.

Poindexter spun about to stare down at the microphone, horrified.

URP.

The flustered college activist frantically slapped the 'mute' button on the microphone, shutting the speakers off. Nothing could be heard, but he and the others were obviously throwing snark at one another over his unexpected eructation.

Flute and Scootaloo leaned against each other, helpless with smothered laughter. Bananas Foster hmmmed and rubbed his chin. "Ahh,, the old one-note-trumpet joke. Not exactly novel but on the other hoof you can't beat the classics... Plus that belch at the end was a nice little twist. I give it... 3 stars. Next?"

"Allow me..." Presto chuckled. He began rifling through the contents of his wagon. When he resurfaced he was holding a strange looking metal wand, one with a tiny sonar dish on the end and a lightning bolt shaped button in the handle. "Little something I, ah, procured from the Weather Factory," he said to the others. "Excuse me, I have to get a clear shot..." He sneaked off around the fringes of the crowd, mysteriously with nary a jingle to give his position away.

At the podium, Poindexter had managed to bark his minions back in line. With a static 'click' and a 'wwooot' he turned the portable mike back on. "Apologies. Ahem. Technical difficulties. But as I was saying: for literal generations we mere mortals have been kept, deliberately, at a terrible disadvantage-"

Presto had gotten around the side of the crowd and was now leaning far to casually against a nearby wall, standing behind a rainbarrel. Concealed by the folds of his homemade wizard's robes, he sighted down the length of the wand and pulled the trigger.

"What is that thing?" Scootaloo asked between cackles of laughter.

"Dunno what it's called, but construction pegasi use it to lay down lightning veins in permacloud, keep 'em from building up a dangerous charge," Foster said. "But as you can see it has interesting side effects if you use it on a pony..." His grin threatened to split his face as he pointed. Scootaloo looked. Unnoticed by any of the PEARS ponies, the manes and tails of every pony around the podium, including Poindexter's, was beginning to stand on end. Soon every loose hair on their bodies was standing straight out like a cartoon wig. The ponies in the crowd began to notice and laughter spread as the PARSE ponies' manes and tails began bushing out like gigantic dandelion fluff.

Poindexter stared out at the crowd in confusion, totally oblivious to his startling new mane-do. "- What-?"

BZZAT!

It was then that the massive static charge accumulated in his mane and tail decided to ground out. Static electricity leapt from every point on his body. He began dancing a mad tarantella with a freestyle accompaniment from the megaphone pressed spastically to his lips-

"BAWDIDIBAWDEBANGDIGGITYDIGGITYHOOPBANGWOPSHOPADOOBY-"

His flailing limbs brushed against the nearest of his static-fluffed neighbors, setting off a chain reaction that hit every pony in the group. Shrieks, yips and wild spasms filled the square as sparks of static electricity leaped from hipster to hipster, sending them leaping into the air or jitterbugging where they stood.

Once the zapping finally stopped, the members of PARSE began squabbling amongst themselves as to who was responsible, oblivious to their audience- which was in danger of splitting its sides laughing.

This went on a few minutes, but the rattled protest ponies reached a consensus that the dry, cool weather- and hence the Government- was to blame for the rather nasty static buildup, and of course started yelling for somepony in authority to do something. Several imperious shouts were made at the suddenly highly professional and totally oblivious guards standing around for SOMEPONY to PLEASE push a few clouds this way to help humidify the air a little before there was another freak electrical incident...

"That's my cue," Spritzer said suddenly. He went aloft, fishing through his saddlebags. "Yeah, I got four, five... Hey, someone tell Presto I'm gonna be out of invisible paint after this..." he flew off.

"I spend way too much time around here repeating what somepony just said," Scootaloo noted. "Invisible Paint?"

"Little something Presto mixed up for Spritz," Crackerjack said. "I think I know what he's gonna do with it, too- but I don't wanna spoil it..." A moment later a small cloud- presumably Spritzer- went flying by overhead and parked itself over the protesters. He was out of sight to those below, but the Fools were far back enough to see Spritzer peek over the top of the cloud, a spray bottle in each hoof. He emptied both of them into the air, sending a clear mist showering down over the ponies below. He finished them off and pulled out two more.

Poindexter and his cronies visibly relaxed as the cool mist settled over them. Deed done, Spritz abandoned the cloud and rejoined the others. Scootaloo looked at him, confused and a little disappointed. "That was it?" she said. "You sprayed them with a plant mister?"

"Give it about five minutes," Spritz said.

"Aaaand that's MY cue, if I wanna get my turn," Bananas Foster said. With a flourish, Foster produced... an oversized toy microphone. "You know, these little Flim Flam brothers portable Magic Mikes are nifty. Loads of fun. You can use 'em to make your voice play over any speaker or radio or whatever that's in range. Had this one since I was a little colt; it was my favorite toy. You can't find 'em anywhere anymore, though. They quit making them when they found out they had a bad design flaw.

"You can't turn the wireless feature off. Observe..." He fiddled with a dial on his microphone, cleared his throat, and lifted it to his lips.

Up on the podium, Poindexter was pressing on. "You can see here how ponies conspire against us! But we must press on; I have a message to share with all of Equestria-"

His voice cut out, and was replaced by the voice of Bananas Foster. "- that I dance the cha cha like a sissy, and my mother dresses me funny!"

Poindexter stared at his own microphone as if it had transformed into a venomous snake. Scootaloo saw his lips move...

"-Yeah, I likea do the Cha-Cha. Cha-cha doodle alla live-long day-" Foster recited into his Magic Mike.
Poindexter, now completely rattled, began (to judge by his rapidly moving mouth) to shout into the microphone.

Foster, however, provided the dialogue. "YABLALBALBLABAARBLBLABLABLABRR! HAHBALBLA! BLARAGALBLAAR! BOOGA BLEEEHHH DOODOO CACA-PEE PEE!"

The crowd of onlookers roared. The Nobody's Fools, hiding in their narrow alleyway, rolled on the ground.

A moment later microphone and the microphone stand both came sailing over the crowd's heads to smash against a nearby lamppost. Poindexter, now thoroughly rattled, started screaming imprecations at the pony running the portable sound system. The scruffy goateed stallion shrugged helplessly as Poindexter ranted at him.

"AaaAAaaand that was Poindexter Heraldry, Fillies and Gentlecolts. Sharing his views, his cause, his indecipherable speech impediment!" Foster continued cheerfully, his voice as smooth and mellifluous as any DJ. "Be sure and stop by next week to catch another performance, where he'll shower us all with more of the wisdom and spittle a trust fund can buy-"

The members of PEARS had fallen on their sound system and yanked the plug out. It did no good. Like all Flim Flam products, when the Magic Mike malfunctioned it did so with a vengeance. Powerless or not the speakers continued to broadcast Foster's voice. Foster cranked up the power on the Magic Mike. Several of the stores on the street had outdoor intercoms; these began broadcasting his voice as well.

"But now as the sun pulls away from the shore, and our ship slowly sinks in the West, we the perpetually offended Ponies of PARSE, PEARS, ERSAP, REAPS, and fifteen other meaningless acronyms for our pretentious cause must go. We have places to go, ponies to annoy, traffic to block, and support checks from Daddy to deposit. So we bid you a fond farewell for the day.

"And now, a little musical number..."A tinny samba beat began to play.

"Oh my name is Cuban Pete
I'm the king of the Rhumba Beat
When I play the maracas I go
Chick chicky boom
Chick chicky boom-"

Total chaos reigned.(4) The crowd of passersby, still stuck in the pony protester's traffic jam, were howling with laughter. Even the Nobody's Fools were gasping for air. The watch ponies standing guard (those who weren't helpless with laughter) had finally decided that the uproar constituted 'disturbing the peace' or close enough to it, and had waded through the crowd to confront the now squabbling members of PEARS. One guard was yelling right in Poindexter's face; Poindexter was yelling back, loud enough that he was going pink in the face.

Scootaloo's eyes went wide. In fact, all of them were going pink in the face. They were going pink in the everything. As she watched, every member of the group- every member that had stood under Spritz's 'humidifying mist'- slowly turned bright coral pink from nose to tail, clothing and all.

"Finally," Spritz said. "I was starting to wonder. It usually doesn't take so long for it to dry... "

Poindexter and his fellows were just noticing their new palette. The shrieks, especially from the females, redoubled. Spritz, looking a little guilty, grabbed the Magic Mike and spoke into it. "Calm down, you ponies, it's not permanent. It'll come off the next time they take a shower!"

"Dear Maker, it IS permanent-!"Foster quipped into the microphone, grinning madly.

The crowd heard that and lost it. Some were laughing so hard they were weeping. The neon-pink protesters did not look so amused. Presto came running back to join them and hastily put on his wagon harness.

"It seems Windy City's best and brightest have spotted us," he said unnecessarily, pointing back. Indeed, several guards were closing in. Some were following Presto with set looks on their faces. Others had their eyes riveted on Foster and Spritz, who were still wrestling over the Magic Mike.

"Well, looks like it's time to go-!" Mach One said. "Everypony, time to play Ditch the Doofus. Newbie, Flute, you stay with me... Presto?"

The Fool's ersatz magician had stowed away his Wand of Static Zap and had pulled a new one out. This one was made of a peeled tree branch and had a purple crystal tied to the tip with copper wire. "Just buying a little extra time, fearless leader," he said. He waved the wand in his hoof and then thrust it at the approaching guards with a grunt; Scootaloo didn't know how she knew, but she got the strongest impression he was trying to push his earth pony quintessence out of his hoof and through the wand at them.

The crystal sparkled briefly. At first nothing seemed to happen. Then the two nearest guards got the most surprised look on their faces, and suddenly began sliding across the paving stones towards each other. They collided with a clang, and seemingly became stuck to one another. The two immediately began struggling to push themselves apart. The other guards tried to either edge around them or help them, only to suddenly get stuck to their compatriots as well. In seconds half a dozen armored ponies found themselves in a tangled ball of of thrashing limbs, clanking armor and swearing.

"Hah! Clover the Clever's Magnetizing Resonance Field Morphosis! It DOES work with earth pony quintessence!" One of the patrol ponies pulled free, only to be dragged back, swearing. "Whups, we probably better get going before it wears off..." Presto took off galloping down the alley, Wheezer hanging onto the wagon for dear life. The others took off after him, most of them barely able to keep their balance from laughing so hard.

"Ditch the Doofus" was a simple enough strategy; The moment the Nobody's Fools exited the alleyway they scattered in groups of two or three, disappearing into the city's maze of back streets and alleyways. As planned, Flute and Scootaloo stuck to Mach One's side. The older colt led them through a tangled web of tunnels, trails, and back routes nopony could possibly follow, parkouring over obstacles, boosting the other two wherever they needed it.

After nearly ten minutes of flat-out running/skating/scootering, they finally came to a halt. They walked out the burn, catching their breath. After a few minutes of panting, the three looked at each other and started laughing. Mach with his quiet, I'm-too-cool chuckle; Scootaloo giggling shamelessly; Flute with his funny, totally silent laughter. "That was totally... awesome!" Scootaloo gasped.

Mach One gave her a half-smile. "So glad you approve," he said.
Scootaloo giggled, then her smile got a little more sober. "Thanks," she said. "For, y'know, sticking up for Rainbow Dash. And the other new Princesses," she added hastily. She hunched her shoulders and looked aside. "I... know you don't really like them much-"

"Says who?" Mach One said, surprised, frowning a little.

Scootaloo's gaze drifted further aside. "You get this funny look on your face whenever somepony mentions them," she said.

Mach thought that over for a second and sighed. "Look, Newbie, It's not like I dislike them or nothing," he said. "I don't know them well enough to feel one way or the other about them. I... guess they're okay; from what I've seen in the papers they seem to be nice. They're certainly pretty enough." He huffed and smirked. "Princess Rainbow's definitely a hottie-"

"Ooooo," Scootaloo said, teasing. Flute cast a magic bubble that let off a wolf whistle.

"Hey, she's a Wonderbolt. All that exercise has left her lookin' fine, is all I'm saying," Mach grinned. "But no, I don't hate 'em."

"But you don't like them," Scootaloo pressed.

Mach sighed, and for some strange reason looked up at Scholar's Peak, floating among the clouds in the sky. "No, I don't really care for 'em," he admitted. His expression soured a little. "Like I said, I don't hate 'em. But from where I'm standing, all these new princesses are just another layer of ponies put there to boss us around and lord it over us. Push us around, cheat us, tax us, pass laws against us, toss us in jail if they don't like us..."

Scootaloo was shocked. "They're not- they wouldn't-" she stammered.

Mach looked at her. "They wouldn't do that to us little ponies? That what you're trying to say?" he seemed strangely calm. "Well that's not the point, kid. The point is that they could, and that nopony would stop them if they did. The world... the world shouldn't be built that way."

Scootaloo was stricken. Mach must have seen the look on her face because he went on. "Hey look, that's just how it is. I'm not saying these princesses would.. Like I said, Princess Rainbow seems pretty chill. but what about the next alicorn? Or the one after that? the world's full of ponies who want to put themselves up high, so that they can look down at everypony else. Sooner or later they're going to ascend somepony who does like to lord it over everypony else. And then what?

"But, to be fair, Everypony does it a little bit I guess. Want to boss other ponies around or look down on them, I mean." He looked up at the fat bellies of the clouds overhead. "Shoot, why do you think pegasi live up in the clouds?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Scootaloo said, offended.

"Oh really?" He gave her a humorless half-smile. "Come on, think about it. What the hell is up there? Nuthin' but clouds and air. You can't grow anything up there, can't build nuthin' permanent up there, can't mine or farm or do anything else that ponies have to do. Shoot, you can't even keep FURNITURE up there without special magic... So why does anypony live up there?

"I'll tell you why; to look down on everypony else that can't. The great and glorious ancient Pegasus empire couldn't even FEED itself, and they still woulda DIED rather than get their hooves dirty on grass and dirt. Because there was nothing lower than being a dirt pony, and living on a cloud let them look down and sneer at everypony else who couldn't. Practically, and literally. And deep down, every pegasi- especially the high mucky muck bigwig pegasi- still feels the same way, at least a little bit."

"YOU'RE a pegasus!" Scootaloo said angrily.

Mach gave a short little laugh. "And in spite of all that I just said, do you know what I'd give just to be up there? And don't deny it, you're the same way."

"But you think they want pegasi like me- like us- up there anyway?" He rolled back his left wingsleeve, let the scarred stump, little more than a knobby bump under his skin, poke out. "See that stump? That embarrasses pegasi, makes 'em upset. They don't even like looking at a pegasus that's got a damaged body. That's another reason the Great and Glorious Ancient Pegasi lived in clouds; it made it real easy to get of the sick and weak. Just one little slip, one little push, and that crippled foal that was shaming your family's warrior name was gone. Easy way to thin the herd..."

"Ponies aren't like that now," Scootaloo protested. She knew the stories from ancient history, and had been horrified by them. But ponies were different now.

"Really?" His voice stayed calm but his eyes grew stormy. "We like to talk about how much better we are than those days, how much kinder and decent. But ain't it interesting how even today Pegasi don't use guard rails?"

Scootaloo's mouth hung open in shock. She tried to think of something to say in protest... but then she remembered Rainbow Dash's and Fluttershy's stories of how cruel the other pegasus foals had been to Fluttershy- Fluttershy, the kindest, sweetest pony in the world- just because she was a weak flier. She remembered how the pegasus colts in the Pegasus Quarter had treated her, just because she used a mechanical glider to get around the pegasus side of the city.

"Yeah, I can see you thinking of a few things," Mach said. "Kind of paints an ugly picture, doesn't it? Fit healthy pegasi living up in the clouds where their crippled relatives can't bother them. But don't think I'm just dumping on us Pegasus. like I said; everypony does it.

"Why do you think the Unicorns put the Academy up on Scholar's Peak? Or Canterlot up on the side of a mountain? Too much ground for pegasi, too much sky for earth ponies. Heck, even Earth ponies do it. In the city they build skyscrapers and mansions with rent noone can afford, and in the country if you can't bench press ten times your weight or they catch you using your wings or your magic to do stuff they do with their muscles, they treat you like you're feeble minded as well as feeble bodied. I've seen 'em do it.

"Ain't Equestria wonderful? All three races live in harmony all right; they all build homes for themselves where all the other 'lesser' ponies won't bother them. Oh you can live anywhere you want- so long as you're rich enough to pay for cloudwalking spells, or sky-high rent in a skyscraper, or you can buy your way in with the unicorn snobs in their gated communities and hire unicorn butlers to do all the magic for you. Which means nopony has to worry about their neighborhood getting cluttered up with the POOR, either."

"Ponies aren't LIKE that," was all Scootaloo could say in protest. She could feel her eyes tearing up.

"Oh really?" Mach chuckled. They were passing through a small park. He sat down on a bench. "Tell me, kid, you ever hear the folk story about Special Snowflake, or whatever her name was? That fairy tale about the pegasus filly who supposedly made the first snowflake?" Scootaloo nodded. "Okay, the story's just fairy tale bunk, we all know that; every pegasus knows that snow makes flakes all by itself. But it's supposed to be all inspirational and crap."

Flute snorted and blew a raspberry.

Mach laughed. "Yeah, Flute's got that right. It's a load of treacly crap. Little blind filly- blind ORPHAN filly, because that's twenty percent more tragically noble- left alone in a blizzard, plucks out one of her own feathers and uses it to carve a beautiful sparkly snowflake out of one of her own frozen tears. Ugh," he made gagging motions. "I'm drowning in the glurge- and then she takes it and gives it to Princess Luna and Celestia as a gift. And as a reward they commemorate her achievement for all time..."

"Yeah, that is pretty glurge-tastic," Scootaloo admitted.

"Well here's the kicker, kid. Did you ever ask yourself: with all their ancient knowledge and wealth and magical power, why didn't they reward Special Snowflake by, I dunno, curing her blindness?" Scootaloo's mouth flopped like a fish. "Yeah, that's right. Never thought of that, did ya? Neither did I, when I was your age. Or how about finding the poor little orphan a FOSTER PARENT? Or at least a teacher that didn't leave little blind fillies to fend for themselves?

"I hated that story. I mean, what kind of teacher lets a blind orphan wander off alone into a blizzard? What kind of kids pick on a filly and shun her for being blind? What kind of all-powerful princesses look at a little blind orphan, and instead of healing her or helping her they pat her on the head, give her a meaningless prize for making a pretty snowflake, and then send her on her way?"

"It didn't actually HAPPEN, no. It's just a really schlocky folk story. But it was just how ponies thought back then, when the story was made. And still do today, way deep down.

"And if you ask me, deep down nothing's changed. Or not deep enough, anyway." He wiggled the stump of his wing at Scootaloo, making her stomach flip. "I lost my wing when I was a foal. It grew in wrong, shrunk and shrivelled, and the doctors had to cut it off.

"Equestria's been around for over a thousand years. We have magic out the wing wong. I've seen unicorns turn bluebirds into frickin' oranges and grow hundred-year old trees out of acorns in seconds. You know what kind of hope I had? What kind of treatments I could get? Nuthin', that's what. Tell me, Scootaloo, why haven't those high and mighty Unicorn scholars up on top of the mountain come up with a spell yet to grow my wing back?" He nodded at Flute. "Or how about something even easier: why haven't they got a magical cure for Flute's voicebox, huh? Why can't they even fix poor Wheezer's allergies?

"Why, after a thousand years, haven't they got houses in Cloudsdale that non-pegasi can live in? Or at least walkways for the ones who can't fly? Why do towns like Ponyville have rules against using magic on things like Winter Wrap Up? Shouldn't getting the job done be more important? Why don't you see any nobility in Canterlot who aren't Unicorns? Why is it that all the gifted schools are for gifted UNICORNS? Why after a thousand years can't even the integrated Unicorn Universities teach Earth ponies or Pegasi, who are supposed to be 'just as magical' as Unicorns, how to do real magic? Why, after a thousand years, don't any of them have healers finding CURES?

"I'll tell you why. They're too busy feeling special for how "nice" they are to us. They NEED us down here at the bottom. They need somepony to patronize and parade around on Feel Sorry for the Cripple Day and tell heartwarming inspirational stories about and to tell "you're not handicapped, your Handi-CAPABLE-" he snorted bitterly at that. "They need earth ponies who want to be wizards, so they can make folk tales about how you should be happy with what you are and getting above your station will make you unhappy."

"When I lost my wing as a foal, I lost any hope of ever flying, They were all rushing around telling me how it didn't matter, that I was still a Special Snowflake even if I never flew, it didn't really matter... I'd lost my wing forever, and it didn't really matter." he seethed quietly at that for a moment. "Even while they were picking out a retirement home for pegasus cripples like me to stick me in.

"I've talked to ponies in the rest homes. Pegasi from all over Equestria. You know what they say pegasi most everywhere call Windy City? Cripple Hill. This is where they bring their rejects. When they get tired of dealing with us, they bring us here to dump us, and forget us. And maybe come by and cry a few crocodile tears on us every now and then for the cameras... Sad little ponies in the snow.

"It's a dumping ground for other losers too. But you can figure that out by looking at our little group...

"Pegasi like Foster's family who make more money than Celestia's cake chef- but have to crawl on their bellies to get the aristocracy to accept them because they're not unicorns, the farming community to accept them because they're not earth ponies, and the pegasus community to accept them because they work in the dirt growing bananas.

"A runty little unicorn with a fighting cutie mark, born to a family of earth ponies built like clydesdales, who could whip his weight in tigers, but who none of the gyms or dojos will accept because 'unicorns are weak.'

"A pony who wants to do magic, but he's an earth pony so the professors on Scholar's Peak won't even give him the time of day.

"A pony raised by diamond dogs... you know, Bowser's parents left Diamond Dog society because they wanted Bowser to learn about his Pony heritage? But they had to move to Windy City because everywhere else, racist ponies would refuse to serve them or buy or sell with them, or even chase them out of their shops because they think they'll steal everything or give them fleas.

"And look at you! You can't fly, even though you have enough wingpower to drag a half-dozen ponies behind you. And I bet you're like Flute; you've been to a jillion 'medical experts' for your problem, haven't you? And all they can do is stand around with their hooves up their butts, shrugging their shoulders... and telling you how you should embrace your wonderful crippleness because you're a Special Snowflake.

" I've spent my whole life watching the haves do nothing but pat the have-nots on the head and saying "Be ye warmed and clothed and fed" and toddling on their way, pleased with themselves for being so nice to the lower class. Are any of this new batch of royalty going to be any different? Tell me, when they found out you couldn't fly, did any of that herd of princesses show up at your door to help you? Did any of them even try? Either they can't or they won't, and I don't know which is worse..."

He looked Scootaloo in the eye and snorted softly. "The magical land of Equestria, where all-powerful Princesses can turn a pegasus into an alicorn... but they can't turn a non-flying pegasus into a flying one. So yeah, I'm not too excited about getting a whole bunch of new royalty."

He got to his hooves. "I guess this is where we split up. I'll see you squirts later."

Scootaloo felt like her heart had sunk to the bottom of her hooves. Everything he'd said had been another devastating little blow. But the worst part of the whole lecture, worse than anything he'd said, was that he'd never even raised his voice. He'd said every bit of it in that same calm, quiet, casually disinterested way he'd started. Like that was his verdict; this was how the Universe sucked, and that was the way it was always going to be.

"Mach... you don't hate them for not helping you. Do you?" she pleaded to his departing back.

He paused in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at her. "Maybe a little. Just... a little. I know they can't be everywhere and fix everything, but..." he stopped, his lips pressed together. "It's nothing personal," he said. "It's just that deep down there's a part of me that's still this little colt who spent the last day in the hospital before his operation, writing letters in crayon to Princess Celestia, begging her to come fix his wing before they cut it off for good..."

He shook his head. "It's dumb, I know. After all, they may have ascended- but they're still just ponies stuck in a world they didn't make, like the rest of us. Even Celestia and Luna. I know that in my head at least. Who knows, if we knew each other personally we might actually like each other." He smiled, reflective. "Heh. Princess Rainbow seems like a cool filly, at least. I wonder if she liked that rose?" he said to nopony in particular. "Eh, don't let me moping get you down, all right? See you at the hideout tomorrow; we're gonna go to the North Face."

"I'm there!" Scootaloo said. She put on her best gutsy grin and waved as Flute and Mach rolled off. Once they'd rolled out of sight she sat down and sighed. What a day. First all that mayhem on Kessel Road. And now everything Mach had said was bubbling around in her brain...

I wonder if Princess Rainbow liked that rose?

Suddenly she was remembering Rainbow Dash telling her about the 'saboteur' at the Cloudiseum. His pranking, his athletic stunts, the long-stemmed rose he'd left behind...

Two long-separated synapses finally clicked into place. "Oh, horseapples," she said.

---

1) A carryover from the era of the Three Tribes, expanded for a more industrial age. For those who might wonder exactly how formidable the ancient nation of Pegasopolis really was, and how they could hold their ground against the likes of an army of magic-wielding unicorns... take note: Pegasi used thunderstorms the way we would use battleships, and their idea of a naval battle was to build a hurricane, man it with several thousand legionnaires, and send it out to scour the ocean- and the enemy coastline- clean. It wasn't just the potential wrath of Celestia and Luna that kept Equestria safe from its enemies for centuries at a stretch.

2)Even ponies don't generally have manes that are naturally fluorescent.

3)A feature of a family crest or Coat of Arms denoting lineage descending from an illegitimate child... in other words, Poindexter (meaning left-handed) Heraldry was a royal bastard. Yes, it's a heraldry joke.

4)And somewhere in Canterlot, the hysterical giggling coming from a certain chaos lord's bedroom was giving the castle staff the cold sweats.