I'll cut to the chase. Winter sucked.

Winter over Equestria is apparently mild, with lovely gentle snowfalls with big fat flakes that covered the fields and cottages in a pristine blanket of white... a hallmark-card winter wonderland. Winter over the Everfree, not so much. The Everfree apparently boasted winters composed of an equal blend of sleet, hail, freezing rain, blinding snowstorms, smothering blizzards, antarctic temperatures, and undiluted suck.

We were all deep underground, thankfully, dug in like termites in a mound. We had ample food supply for the winter and a steady water supply. An added bonus, most of my minion army seemed to almost go dormant; the diamond dogs got slow, sluggish and slept most of the day, and the changelings literally went into a full on torpor. They clung to the walls and ceiling of their private chamber, virtually immobile, droning to themselves quietly. It was apparently a voluntary reaction; they were woke up immediately and remained fully alert for as long as I needed them, then went right back to sleep the moment they were finished with whatever task I gave them. Nifty. Black Fang alone remained fully awake most of the time, in order to be available to me-- but even he crashed into that torpor whenever he had an hour off.

That still left me with a lot of perfectly wide-awake ex-con ponies who needed kept busy.  The close quarters and enforced idleness were leading to a lot of grumbling; I resorted to putting them to make-work jobs--- digging more tunnels for the lair, scouting topside around the Everfree, exercise drills, anything I could think of. I saved the nastiest jobs for the biggest complainers; the complaining tapered off quite a bit.

To my surprise, nobody ran off. At least I didn't notice anyone missing or our numbers suddenly dropping. Granted, I didn't bother keeping track of everyone. If they bolted, good riddance. It was highly unlikely that they would even get out of the Everfree alive if they did, anyway, especially in mid-winter.

It was a week or two after we had dug in that I found myself wondering where all my Diamond Dogs were. I was skulking around through the tunnels, vaguely taking inventory, and I noticed that I had seen the Changelings and the ex-con ponies I had taken aboard... but the 'dogs were making themselves scarce. Even Big Mama was missing from the make-shift kitchen cavern. I collared Artful Dodger and demanded to know what was up.

The scrawny unicorn shrugged at my inquiry. "Dunno," he said. "They all just started trooping outside a while ago. I asked, they said 'it Diamond Dog thing. You no understand. ' " He looked worried. "Didja want someone to follow 'em?"

"No-- I'll handle this myself," I said, slamming my helmet on and stalking my way to the entrance. I was disgruntled; Skank, Mange and Runt were supposed to keep me posted on everything their pack got up to, not go running off without so much as a post-it note telling me what was up.

It wasn't hard tracking them; they'd left a path of well-trodden snow behind them. I ventured out into the blistering cold, swearing. That was two strikes-- they knew not to leave trails like this. The last thing we needed with pegasi flying overhead was a bunch of tracks in the snow leading back to the lair.

When I caught up with them, they were gathered around--- strike three-- an enormous bonfire. One that was probably visible from Canterlot. I could hear barking and howling, and saw them passing around more than one jug.... I stood among the trees, just out of the firelight, seething. I was going to

beat the insubordination out of them

It took me a minute to realize that they weren't celebrating. The few howls that went up weren't jubilant, they were mournful. Even with the jugs passing around, they looked sad and sober as a mob of judges. Every tail and ear drooped, every eye was cast downward.

They stood there looking sorrowfully into the fire, swaying back and forth. As I watched, one whimpering female came forward and threw something into the fire-- a bundle of rags and straw, a dummy diamond dog... she watched the flames consume it, moaning and whimpering like the saddest dog in the world. She turned back to shuffle into the crowd; paws patted her on the back, consoling. Another diamond dog came forward, this one a male, came forward and took her place. He threw another straw dog on the fire.

I watched as 'dogs left the circling crowd one by one. Some tossed manikins dressed in diamond dog vests, others threw odd possessions on the fire, or bundles done up in bits of old blanket. What was this?

I thought about it for a minute, then crept around the circle till I was behind Runt. They must've been pretty deep into those jugs already; they're nearsighted as heck but they should have heard or smelled me a hundred feet away. I stepped out of the woods into the firelight; the moaning and whimpering stopped and every eye turned towards me. It was eerily still for a moment; no sound but the popping of the burning logs as the silent snow fell. I expected the guilty doggy faces--- they looked like my mom's pug dog when he got caught making a doodle on the carpet--- but instead of groveling, after just a second they turned back to the fire and resumed their low keening and moaning.

I was glad I was wearing my helmet so they couldn't see my jaw drop. These guys normally bit the dirt and began groveling at the drop of a hat. I made my way over to Runt. "What is this?" I didn't shout. I kept my voice serious, but low.

Runt kept his head down but turned his eyes up to me. "Mourning Day," he said. "We say goodbye to dogs who leave us. Not have time before..."

I misheard at first. "Morning Day...?" I shook my head. "Who are we losing?" Diamond Dogs breaking ranks. This did not bode well--

Runt produced a sheet of bark. Names had been scratched into the smooth underside with a ragged Diamond Dog nail. "Grottle. Eaten by Big Boss. Charcoal. Eaten by Big Boss. Scruff. Eaten by Big Boss... " he paused. "Lot like that. I skip.

"Rex: stabbed by Pony guard in Battle of Castle of Royal Sisters. King: stabbed by Pony guard in Battle of Castle of Royal Sisters.. Bowser: crushed by Troll. Sniffer: killed by Changeling in Castle of Royal Sisters. Wags: crushed in tunnel collapse by Pony Moon Princess...."

I felt like I'd been smacked in the head with a mallet. I took another look at the mourning faces of the dogs around me, counted the effigies burning on the logs. I wasn't breaking up a party.

I'd crashed a wake.

"How many?" I said, a lump of ice in my chest. Runt showed me the list. I counted at least two dozen names. The first half were mostly 'dogs who'd died under Big Boss's claws, but the rest--- the rest were Diamond Dogs who'd been killed on my watch. Ones who'd died fighting for me in the forest, or at the Castle of the Royal Sisters, or who'd died rescuing my sorry ass from the Pretty Pony Princess' dungeon.

I sat down heavily on a nearby stump. I thought I was going to puke.

I was a complete retard.  I'd seen Big Boss kill someone; I'd hacked and slashed and blasted my way through a battlefield myself.  I'd even seen Big Boss' head get splattered all over his cave . I'd looked around and sneered at  the whole cartoon-land kiddy-safe illusion of this world, And still  all that time  I'd l been thinking in the back of my head that God or the Fates or whatever would keep things all TV-Y rated. and I'd gotten all caught up in it myself. This was no saturday morning cartoon. People died. I'd gotten people killed.

"Why the bonfire?" I said, trying to distract myself from the thoughts pinwheeling through my head. "Why not just bury the dead?"

Runt shook his head and snorted. "Never," he said. "Ponies do that. It weird and sick." He snorted again and licked his nose. "we bury the dead, soon we have no place left to dig for gems!" An interesting perspective; It made sense for Diamond Dogs. It would be kind of traumatizing to start a new tunnel and run into Great Uncle Egbert in repose.

Runt saw me staring at the effigies in the fire. "We not... we not get bodies back, this time," he said. "Had to run. We burn their belongings on the fire in their place, say goodbye to them that way." Another 'dog shuffled forward, a crude dog-shaped bundle in his arms. I could see now it was made from old clothes, and filled with a few personal possessions-- old tools,  a blanket, a collar, an old chew-bone... It was consigned to the flames with the others.

"We keep it quiet," Runt went on. "No howling. And we wait for dark snowy night--" he gestured around at the swirling blankets of snow falling out of the sky. "So they not see smoke, maybe hide flames from pony eyes..." He held one of the gourd jugs, fiddling with it as he looked into the flames.

I raised my hand. Out beyond the firelight magical darkness swirled through the trees. The shadows rose up in a wall around us, snuffing out even what little light that could be seen.  I left the very top open to let the smoke out. "Howl your hearts out," I said. "Noone will hear." I took the jug from Runt's paws and took a whiff. Yeah, I recognized the smell; good old-fashioned rotgut home brew like my Dad tries to make. Some things never change from world to world, like fermentation. I flipped up my visor and took a swig; it burned all the way down.

the first to howl was a half-grown pup. He raised his voice in mourning all alone. The others, encouraged, joined in.  A dozen, two dozen voices raised in mourning echoed into the cold blank winter sky.

I sat with them. I watched as more effigies and odd possessions were tossed on the fire, while pack mates broke down whimpering and crying over lost pups, sires and dams, littermates and lifemates. I helped pass the gourd around... once or twice... or three times... listened while 'dogs told me about the dead, patted them on the back and told them 'he/she was a good dog...' passed the bottle again... Wept over the ones who'd died ... I remember raising my own voice in a wolf-howl along with them; I think they were impressed... things faded together into the long winter night.

I woke up lying down. In a bed. Mine, maybe.

Pain. Death. Agony.

I'd had hangovers before. Well I thought I'd had hangovers before. My older brother would sneak some beer sometime; one time I managed to get ahold of his whole sixpack and.... yeah well you get the idea. But the morning after that brilliant plan was nothing, I swear to you NOTHING but a lit match against the Sun compared to the aftermath of a Diamond Dog rotgut binge. Everything hurt the way only my head was supposed to. My mouth, throat, and possibly first two thirds of my esophagus were lined with fur. My stomach was roiling and my intestines were brewing up to do something unholy.  Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. Existing hurt.

I managed to peel open one eye. Artful Dodger standing inside the door. The image entered my eye on beams of light that proceeded to destroy the core of my brain. "Glarrgh," I said. I sounded like Satan with a hangover. It was certainly how I felt.

He correctly translated. "You passed out at the Diamond Dog wake," he said. "after you chugged about a gallon of their brew all by yourself." He sounded impressed. "They brought you back here and put you to bed... um, well, after they hosed you down a little." I did feel sort of damp and manky, come to think of it.

I managed to sort of air-crawl my way to an upright position next to my bed. The room reeled as my sinuses pounded. I staggered. "Dear God, what was in that brew?" I rasped.

"Y'see, that's the sort of question I learned to ask before drinking out of a strange bottle," Artful Dodger pointed out smugly. "Nopony knows, by the way. Everypony has been afraid to ask after last time."

"Last time?" I urped.

"Yeah, A couple of the pony toughs tried some of it a while ago, and... well you're about to be glad I cleared a path to the bathroom--"

He wasn't lying. You know that feeling you get just before you puke? How about the one you feel just before your bowels are about to unloose? Imagine them both at the same time. I was in the bathroom, pants to my knees, almost before I realized I'd even lurched to my feet.

I found out at that point that I'd made a critical oversight in how the bathroom was laid out; there was only one toilet, and at the moment I desperately needed two... Life is bad when you can't make up your mind whether you want to put your ass on the toilet or stick your face in it. I made do by squatting on the bowl and holding my helmet upside down under my face.  Many horrible sights, sounds, and smells commenced.  

Artful Dodger came to the door and stood watch while I attempted to exorcise my immortal soul out of both ends of my body. "Aw man," he whined. "I rinsed that helmet out twice already..."

I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy fishing around in the Amulet for a make-me-sober-or-kill-me spell. One floated up before my mind's eye; I grabbed onto it like a drowning man and fired it off. It got really unpleasant then; this sober-up spell was efficient but it wasn't merciful. It worked by bypassing my liver and maximizing the amount of alcohol I expelled from my body--- by any means and orifices available. My heaves redoubled, and so did my bowel voidings. My bladder gushed, My eyes watered, my nose ran, sweat reeking of alcohol gushed from all my pores. For ten of the most horrible seconds of my life I was hell's own lawn sprinkler. I couldn't even moan, I was too busy spewing.

When it was over, and the aftershocks had finally passed, I dragged myself off the porcelain throne and over to the sink, where I drank straight from the spigot till my guts sloshed. I felt better, mountains better, but I felt like I'd been rung out like a soiled dishrag. Actually, that's a pretty good description of what the spell did... I looked at myself in the mirror. Whoa. I looked like I'd aged fifty years in a day. I was gaunt and jaundiced looking, my hair was hanging in greasy strings and my eyes looked like boiled bacon.

I angled the mirror so I could see Dodger. He was still visible through the doorway, though he'd backed out of the potential splash zone. The look of horror on his face was comedy gold. "What was that?" he demanded to know.

"Evil Warlock Hangover Cure," I quipped. I began dragging my clothes off my body and tossing them in a corner. It was time for a thorough hosing-down. I regarded the mess I'd made (that porcelain bowl had done a hero's work, but-- no I'll leave it to your imagination. Just google "drunk and passed out" for similar laughs). "Get someone to clean this up."

Dodger's face wrinkled. "Can't ya just magic it away, or something?"

I would have snapped at him if I'd had more strength. Just for the hell of it I flipped through the Amulet's prefab spell list again. Well whaddya know. "Gruesome Aftermath Cleanup." And it was cross-referenced with the hangover cure. Whoever had made this Amulet had lived an interesting life. Purple-green energy scourged the tile, porcelain and chrome, leaving everything spotless... even my abused helmet. I climbed into the shower and cranked up the spigots for a thorough hosing down. Sweet judas on a stick, that felt better.

To my annoyance I could still see Dodger through the frosted glass, standing there. "What do you want, already?" I growled.

I could hear the shrug in his voice. "That's kinda what I wanna ask you," he said. "But first I figure you wanna know what everypony's up to, since you've been too drunk to pay attention."

I stuck my head up over the shower door and glared at him, my eyes flickering purple-green-red. "Don't forget your place," I growled.

"You mean 'Toady?' " he smirked, crossing his hooves. How did he stay standing like that? "I know what I am-- I'm the little twerp every boss and bully boy with the real power keeps around so everypony'll hate the twerp instead of him. You need me to be a smart-mouthed jerk lieutenant just so everyone will blame things on me instead of you." His tone was smug but I could hear a little bitterness under it.

I stood still under the spigot. That was an interesting perspective, all right. And it was a pretty good guess on his part. Since taking him on board I'd had him fetch and carry and relay my orders... which meant any unpleasant jobs I handed out, they blamed on him instead of me. I'd like to think I was being clever but the truth was that I was turning into a coward. I shampooed up while I thought. "Fine. Report, then," I said. Might as well find out what bug was up his tail.

"Well to start off, the 'dogs think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread, of course. And you got major props for hanging with them at their wake. Dunno how many props you lost for puking, passing out and peeing yourself, though." He smirked. "But the ponies aren't too happy. I'm hearing them a lot of griping about how if they wanted to spend their lives living in a hole and breaking rocks, they could have stayed in the Canterlot prison." He shifted his stance, leaning against the doorframe. "Dealing with hungover Diamond Dogs hasn't made them much happier.

"The Changelings aren't too happy either. They're ticked off that their ex-Queen--- who basically ran their hive into the ground-- is sitting pretty in her own 'suite', getting waited on horn and hoof. It's a suite in a dirt hole and she's being waited on by ex-cons and Diamond Dogs, but... whatever." He shrugged again.

"And yeah, personally she's kind of a heinous nag, too. Treats me like crap whenever I gotta deal with her... of course nopony else is much better," he sulked. "The only reason I'm not getting outright kicked around is because I'm supposedly your 'apprentice.' Which still means I gotta deal with ponies and 'dogs pulling all kind of crap on me when I'm not looking. I'm getting tired of sleeping with one eye open..."

I grumbled to myself. These were all big problems. Villain Human Resources problems: not your typical P.R. situation. And it had all been going on under my nose. "And the general feel?" I said.

Dodger huffed. "Same question I got. Everypony wants to know what the buck you want. What's your plan? What's your goal?" He paused. "....well?"

"Well what?"

"What's the big plan?" Dodger said. "Conquer Equestria? Take over the world? Become all-powerful? That's what all the villains around here seem to want to do, in the end."

I couldn't help it. I blew a raspberry. "Rule this world? Not a chance, colt."

"Why not?" he actually sounded curious.

I scrubbed down with a loofah while I thought it over. Why not? How could I put it? "Let me put it this way, Artful Dodger," I said. "Would you want to be the ruler of a kingdom full of nothing but little diaper-wearing foals?"

I couldn't make out his facial expression through the glass, but I could guess. "Okay, uh, no?"

"Well neither would I." I reached over the door and got a towel. "To me, that's what Equestria is. A big nursery school full of silly-ass toddlers--"

"Hey--" Dodger said, offended.

"You asked. Cope." I toweled off my hair. "Everything is candy-colored and candy coated, and ponies frolic around without a care in the world-- even though their world has all sorts of monsters and villains and sinister magic waiting just off-screen.... and they come apart like wet cardboard whenever anything even remotely dangerous or different steps out of the wings into their lives." I remembered the screaming mob that had greeted my first appearance and snorted. "I don't want to rule them; I don't want to be responsible for them. And I sure don't want to be the dork on the throne when some wholesome little Hobbit with a ridiculously overpowered magic Macguffin shows up to turn the kingdom back into sunshine and rainbows."

"What's a hobbit?"

"A vaguely effeminate midget with foot hair problems and an affinity for ridiculously over-complicated quests," I said. Yes, I read Tolkein in school for a book assignment. When your epic sagas could be solved just by applying the sentences "poison the dragon" and "ride the eagles to Mt. Doom," you're a grossly overrated author.

"So what do you want?" Dodger said. "You wanna go home and rule the world there?"

I decided to answer him seriously. "I could probably make a go of it," I admitted. " There's no real magic in my world. If I moved hard and fast I could pull it off. Well, not the whole world, but maybe a good sized kingdom someplace." I gestured at him over the divider. "Even the little power you have could make someone a real contender." I rested my head against the tile. "It's real tempting. Thinking I could go back home, and noone would ever push me around again...."

"So why not?"

"Because my world has no magic," I repeated. "What it does have is science. And all sorts of bombs and planes and guns and missiles and crap--- weapons that could make what I did to Canterlot look like a frat house prank--- and  lots and lots of dangerous, violent jerkwads who already rule the world and don't like to share." I tossed the towel back over the shower door and groped for my bathrobe.

"Good thing we're not going there," Dodger said. It sounded like a question.

"That's the thing," I muttered as I stepped out of the shower. "I can't help thinking of all the things that are there that aren't here... and how easy now it would be to get them, if I was there..." I held up the belt of my robe. It wasn't the usual belt; it was a gold chain studded with rubies, each as big around as a Chips Ahoy cookie. "See this? Just one of these rubies back home could buy a hundred room mansion on its own tropical island."

Dodger peered at the belt. "Really? Whoa..."

"Yeah. But you know what this is here? It's junk jewelry. Hell, it's a bedtime snack for a Diamond Dog." I cinched up the belt and picked up my osterized armor. "I sleep on a bed studded with gold and jewels. I sit on an iron throne and run my fingers through enough gold to buy mansions and yachts and limousines and twenty-course meals every day of the week... and it's junk.  

"And don't get me started on what doesn't even exist here. Like cable TV and Netflix and the Internet and Xboxes. Like friggin' cheeseburgers." I caught myself drooling as memories of flame-broiled nirvana crossed my tastebuds. Then I thought of something else that was missing from my life. "And girls. Fraggit."

"Girls?"

"You know, girls, females, those of the sex of the opposite gender?" I said as I got dressed. "Man, if I was back on Earth with all this power and all this loot I could have any girl I wanted. Movie stars. Fashion models. I could have hot and cold running chicks in every room if I wanted."

"Your world's starting to sound a lot better," Dodger said a little wistfully.

I looked at him in surprise. "How old ARE you?" I said skeptically.

He scowled. "Old enough to be a stallion," he said as belligerently as he could manage. After a moment he looked down and scuffed his hoof on the floor. "Smart enough to know I haven't got a chance," he muttered. Ouch. For a moment there I felt a little human empathy. Fellow bro-dude with no girlage and feeling mighty low about it.

I snorted. "You'd be amazed at how fast a stack of bits changes everything," I told him. I snorted again. "Heck, you'd cut a swathe through the ladies back on earth just the way you are." He gave me a confused, skeptical look. "Swear to God," I said. "Squealing girls would be lined up three deep just to cuddle you and give you tummy rubs."

It was true. He was a sneaky, thieving, untrustworthy little Canterlot street rat. He was also a little white unicorn pony with big blue bambi eyes, cute little ears and nose, round tummy, adorable knock kneed legs and cute little hoofsies, all wrapped in a baby-soft coat and silky black mane and tail. And wearing (courtesy of my magical donation to his wardrobe) a simply adorable oversized top hat... He looked like he'd leaped fully formed off of Lisa Frank's worktable. I could have taken him walkies in a city park and raked in the babes like poker chips.

He turned pink in the face and pulled his hat down over his ears. "Ha ha, laugh it up," he said. "As if."

I was enjoying the joke. "No lie," I said, holding up one hand. "Scout's honor." He actually started looking hopeful. "But you might want to stick to trying with your own kind. Girls in my world aren't big into committed relationships with quadrupeds."

"So what's wrong with four legs?" he demanded. "I mean, you got the Changeling Queen on a ribbon and a string. And she's hot. Well," he amended thoughtfully. "So long as you ignore the fangs... and the holes in her legs..."

I shot him an unamused look. "I don't date outside my own species."

He let that skim past. "So you got all the stuff you ever wanted in one world, and everything you need to get it in another," he said. "And if you try to bring one into the other, I'm guessing everything blows all apart."

I grunted an affirmative as I cinched on my greaves. It wasn't like I hadn't pondered that idea: dragging all my riches over to earth. Or bringing cool stuff that I wanted from earth to here. I knew enough about the theory from the Amulet to know it wasn't exactly a quickie weekend project.... the only reason the Medallion had managed to yank me over to Equestria even as easily as it had was because it had just recently punched its way IN to my universe, and thus had a momentary weak point to punch its way back OUT, and opening a portal into a universe from the Between was much much easier than doing the reverse. Either way I'd still have to choose which side of the portal to be on when it closed. And if I was ever in a place where I regretted the decision, opening an escape hatch out of my universe-of-choice on short notice would be like trying to tunnel out of Alcatraz with a teaspoon.

Stay here? With cute widdle ponies and an enraged pair of demigoddesses hunting me down? No chance. But go back home? Back to the crap life I had there, with no power, no control... or trying to use the power I had here over there, only to bring ragnarok down on my head?

It clicked. I paused with my helmet in my hands. I had an idea. I flipped through the mental magical encyclopedia. Could it work? Possibly, if what the Amulet had planted in my head was correct. It wasn't nearly enough information for what I wanted to do..but... It would take a year or more just to set it all up. There were gaps in it-- gaps in my magical knowledge that had yet to be filled... and it would involve all sorts of risks, but...

I had an idea. Now I started putting together a plan.