Issue #1: Exposition!

Canterlot Castle

Standing by the front gates of the castle was by no means the usual way by which most would spend their mornings, even for the few who lived there. Still, this was where one would stand if they wished to be the first to pick up the day's mail, and the pony in the fully-obscuring Royal Guard armor, not a hair of the pony inside visible, had been waiting for something for a while now.

Tapping a metallic hoof against the cobblestone road by which he stood, the armored stallion pondered the existance of his current attire. Maybe it was just supposed to be decorative, he thought, the liberal use of golden coloring speaks for that much. It might even be real gold, foolish as that would be in terms of actual protectiveness, for how damnably heavy it is. Probably explains why I never see regular guards in it.

His waiting thankfully came to an end, however, as the ususal postal pony arrived, a small carriage of packages and post cards to be delivered to the palace trailing directly behind him.

The dull-blue earth pony smiled. "Mornin', deliveries fer the castle," he held out a clipboard with a wing, "needja t'ah sign here."

The armored unicorn, though difficult it may have been to tell he was one, floated the quill he'd had waiting up to sign for the day's mail, followed by a stamp of the royal seal.

"Hmm," the mail-pony muttered with a growing smirk, "Wuddn't yer name 'Gilded Hooves' last time, not 'Golden Hooves'?"

'Golden Hooves' only stood silent as the pony unloading the carriage chuckled.

"Well, nunna mah business anyhow, y'all have a nice day now!"

Gathering up the deliveries in his magic and taking them into the castle, the armored pony muttered to himself a minute after the postal worker moved on. "'Gilded is my twin brother', that's what I should have said. Would have been perfectly believable."

It was possible he'd been underestimating the delivery pony all this time, more suspicious of the ruse this heavy armor was meant to be than he might have seemed. Many months ago, he couldn't believe it had been one of those country-drawling sorts that got all of their mail where it needed to be, on time, every day, but he supposed that was all that was needed to prove whatever-his-name-is was qualified to do the task. Besides, even if he did suspect Golden Hooves, or Gilded Hooves, or whatever it might be next time, wasn't who he said he was, he'd never have proof of his true identity.

He quickly sorted the mail. "Bill, bill, proposal, bill, exotic statue thing, six notifications of high-society gatherings, proposal, bill, bill, bi-ah!" Finding what he had been looking for, 'Golden Hooves' set the rest of the deliveries down where the usual ponies who dealt with these things could find them, floating the thick envelope with him to his extravagent chambers. Closing and locking the door, he marched into the his study, setting the envelope on his desk before looking to the armor rack he swore he'd someday return to the barracks.

No more need for the disguise, I think. The armor was removed, starting with the helmet, revealing the long, golden mane of Prince Vladimir Blueblood the 52nd, along with the rest of his head. Carefully placing the glittering, heavy outfit on it's usual display in just such a way that it looked as though he was just keeping a possibly ceremonial suit of armor by his desk for decorative purposes, Blueblood once again pondered the necessity of the act.

I could just wait until it's given to me by the palace staff a few hours later, or even just picked it up without the armor, but what would ponies say if they saw their prince partaking of common peasant literature, for colts, no less?

Besides, there was something oddly enjoyable about donning a mask and costume, which seemed all the more fitting. Opening the envelope, however, the prince suspected he hadn't been quite secretive enough, as a letter addressed directly to him was included in with the newest issue of the comic series he'd been enjoying for a while now. He opened it.

Dear Nephew,

You might already have been aware of this, but there seems to be a certain issue with the Equestrian comic industry at time of writing; the books are enchanted.

Well, some of them are, at least, and I'm not yet sure how to combat it before anypony can be forcibly absorbed into the stories, but until then, please exercise caution.

Your loving Aunt,

Celestia

P.S. You don't have to hide in your room to read comic books, you know.

P.P.S. Have you met any nice fillies lately? Luna says she can't wait for more many-times great grand-foals!

Flushing with separate embarrassment at each post-script, Blueblood face-hoofed. He didn't care what Princess Twilight was content to be caught doing, it just wasn't proper for a pony of his position to be seen as anything less than the epitome of Canterlot sophistication. When in the public eye, he had an image to maintain, consequences be damned!

Do nothing for the charity event by not buying anything? His father had drilled him many times on what is and isn't acceptable for royals like themselves to have on display in their home.

Who needs a meter-high obsidian Tatzelwurm statue?

Tick off the visiting zebra shaman by refusing to imbibe whatever she'd mixed up in a hollowed-out bone? Nobleponies drank out of clean, sparkling glass, no less.

He didn't want to know what that fizzy, bubbling liquid had been, anyway...

Earn the ire of everypony, particularly mares seeking courtship, that doesn't behave perfectly within the lines of tradition in his presence? Nopony in their right mind wants to be in a relationship with a national heroine, the danger of their adventures alone would ensure it's swift end.

Discord's rampage not even a week later only served to drive that point home, he felt.

He really wasn't interested in a marefriend anyway, he'd heard enough older stallions compare their 'beloved' wives to ball-and-chains, anchors, and bottomless pits for bits enough times, heard enough complaints from both sides, to know marriage just wasn't in the cards for him.

That he would, consequently, be the last of the Blueblood line, felt like something of a problem, however.

There were no siblings to carry on the lineage, his parents had passed a few years ago, but what did it matter, really? Celestia and Luna, from whom he was supposedly descended, both lived, could both presumeably still sire new foals, as he suspected had been the case more than once.

Fifty-two generations and I'm the first not to take an interest in shackling myself to another pony for life? Rubbish.

Paying no further thoughts to his bloodline, Blueblood turned to the comic he'd woken up early this morning to retrieve. Taking a seat at his desk to read, taking solace in the fact that there was at least one other being in Equestria that understood his hobby. This person, apparently a resident of a local farming community, had been his pen pal for around a year, and convinced him quite a while back to give graphic novels a try -that he worded it "graphic novel" instead of "comic book" certainly swayed the prince's judgement, in hindsight- and he had enjoyed quite a few since then.

"Now, what do we have this week...? Ooh, 'Return of the Under-Dog', now there's a fun villain! Always burrowing into-" He caught sight of something, a fine print on the corner of the page. No stranger to tiny text, he cast the magnifying glass spell he'd mastered a few weeks after picking up this hobby and muttered the writing to himself.

"You can return to the place you started when the Under-Dog is defeated... Take a closer look, to join the adventure in this book." He sat back a little, somewhat flummoxed. "What the hay does that mea-"

He was interrupted by bright, blinding light from the book on his desk lighting at roughly the same time as comprehension of his Aunt's letter. Enchanted comic! Pulling ponies in! Hindsight was indeed 20-20, he probably should have checked out the issue first or something, but couldn't begin to guess how one might even do that. He desperately flailed his hooves toward the letter, trying to catch a glimpse of what, if anything, it had said to do if this happened, but it was too late, the prince vanished in a flash.

---

The first thing he noticed was an all-encompassing feeling of compression, everything but the fur around his mouth being squeezed lightly, just enough to be felt. Attempting to take stock of his royal person, Blueblood found himself to be engulfed in shiny blackness.

Familiar shiny blackness.

He was also wearing a cape, a cowl obscuring most of his face, little points at the end of the ears, constantly stuck straight up like a bat's, a long cape with more points at the end, and a golden, plated belt of pouches. He knew this suit.

I'm dressed like Batmane!! While a private part of him was dancing giddily at the idea, the rest was more than a little concerned. I'm inside a comic book, dressed as the hero, and I have the combat prowess of a wet sponge!

What sort of noblepony goes around getting into scraps, after all? He honestly hadn't even been tempted for that one, but it did seem to leave him in a bit of a predicament at the moment.

Alright, he thought with more than a hint of panic, it said 'When the Under-Dog is defeated', I'll be free to go, right? Perhaps he won't resort to trying to smash me with his massive paws, slash me with his massive claws, or dig a hole and burrow under me to try it again if that doesn't work? His usual M.O. in these stories?

Regardless, a prince does not simply stand about hoping a problem will go away on it's own, he stands very close to the problem and does his best to sort it out! Thus, Bluebl-No-Batmane took a good look around, saw a massive hole in the wall of the Bank of Maretropolis, as almost always seems to be the case, he noted, and began to march in that direction.

He made it about four steps before a noise sounded from his utility belt.

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

Jumping with a start, he fumbed for the offending device. It was a small box of some sort with a little screen and a few buttons, which he'd read enough sci-fi comics to recognize as a communicator. Pressing a button with a hoof, the screen lit up, showing the face of the very person that got Blueblood interested in comic books some months prior.

"Spike?!"

The little dragon's face smiled at him through the little screen. "Yo Blue, 'sup?"

Fourteen different questions fought and died for the right to fling themselves from Bluebl-Batmane's tongue at that moment, none being crowned king of the hill before Spike spoke again.

"Well, I guess the comic thing's 'up', huh?" He gave a short laugh. "Anyway, I told Princess Celestia about my run-in with a magic comic book, and since then she's apparently done some digging. I won't go into detail, but it looks like there were more of them. Are more." He scratched his head with a claw. "Will be more? I'm not entirely sure about the tense, Twilight'd probably get on me about tha-"

"HOWDOIGETOUT?!"

Spike offered no immediate solutions, only an apologetic grin. "Relax, all you have to do is go beat the villain, Under-Dog's not even that tough. Remember the Daring Do crossover, Issue #3?"

He did. Banana peel. Classic! Still... "How are you...?"

Spike blinked. "What? Using this communicator?" He chuckled, looking faintly proud. "As the most comic-knowledgeable person she knows, Princess Celestia appointed me as Commissioner of the MCTF, inn't that cool?"

"Emm-See-Tee-Eff...?"

A purple claw waved dismissively. "I'll explain later, we've wasted enough pages on exposition as it is!"

Blink.

"Now go get that bad guy! And remember, you're the Batmane!" The communicator shut off by itself, leaving Caped Crusader to ponder his next move. He quickly settled on charging straight into the gaping hole in the bank and figuring things out from there.

---

The Under-Dog was bigger in person, moreso when he was shaking a pony upside down over a bag of presumeably stolen money, adding to the sack's contents with each frightened cry of alarm from the pony in his grasp.

He stood about a meter higher than the top of Batmane's horn, a huge, grey, thick-coated diamond dog with rusty armor and a helmet that obscured beady little eyes, but not his large, pointy teeth.

Blu-Batmane didn't even entertain the idea of trying to fight him head-on, instead he remembered another tactic the hero he was to emulate often employed: Talking the villain into submission!

More than once Batmane, the real one, real within the context of this world, at least, had subdued his foes by exploiting some psychological imbalance, getting into their heads to stop them in their tracks, and all without psychic powers. The current Batmane would just have to do this himself.

He cleared his throat. "Pardon me, good sir!"

Under-dog turned to look at him, appearing faintly shocked as he dropped the pony he'd been shaking down. "Batmane!!" His voice was higher and nasallier than the speech bubbles had ever suggested. "You no stop me this time! This time I take ALL the gems!"

Paying no mind to his opponent's breath, posture, or the fact that he was stealing bits, not gemstones, Batmane offered a calm retort. "Mr. Dog, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop what you're doing, you're making an awful mess of-"

"SHUT UP!!" Under-Dog made a wide, sweeping gesture with one arm. "ALL these gems are mine now, so SCRAAAAM!!"

Batmane kept as even a tone as he could manage, diplomacy his best shot here. "Sir, I must insist that you stop this immediately, taking what one wants may seem a fine enough solution in the short-term, but I assure the economic consequences are-"

Under-Dog sent him flying with a single swipe of a massive paw, Batmane crashing against a far wall, knocking the wind out of him as the canine criminal laughed. "HA! Under-Dog not care for consequences, or what they do to pompous ponies!"

Pompous...?

Prince Blueblood had seen pompous, heard pompous, smelled pompous, he'd learned the names of more pompous ponies in his life than most could claim to meet, and one thing he was certain of was that he was not one of them. Not even my most dramatic moments compare to some of what I've seen, he thought, and this wretched WELP think's I'M pompous?!

He rose to his hooves, struggling to breathe steadily. "You have... NO idea... What pretentiousness really is!" He was sure there was irony in there somewhere, but his head was still lightly spinning.

Under-Dog, now trying to stuff one of the bank's velvet ropes used to form waiting lines into his bag, blew a raspberry at him. "Puh-leeze! Pompous pony thinks it's so fancy with it's shiny suit and golden belt! Well UNDER-DOG will be fancy one when all the gems belong to ME!"

Batmane took a few steps toward the criminal, talking through gritted teeth. "I. Am. Not. Pompous. Now I will kindly ask you one more time to-"

"Bllleegh!" Under-Dog waggled his massive tongue in disgust. "Pompous pony even TALKS pompous all the time! Always with the-HRK!!"

The spiked collar around his neck seemed to jerk forward of it's own accord, throwing Under-Dog to the floor as Batmane approached, horn glowing, his face inches from the criminal's.

"I am not being pompous, I'm being polite. Do you want to hear pompous?"

Under-Dog blinked twice, hard as it might have been to see through his rusty helmet. "Um-"

Batmane drew himself up, making emphatic hoof gestures as he spoke, nose high in the air. "THIIIS is pooompous! Ugh, you positively reek of filth, don't you ever bathe? Oh wait, disgusting mongrels wash with their tongues, like dirty savages! I stay clean with only the finest imported bathwater and scented cleansers from the most exotic ports and harbors in all the world!"

Under-Dog tried to cover his ears, but found the Dark Knight's magic holding him firmly against the floor.

Batmane drew a forehoof to his chest, snout pointed directly at the ceiling, voice dripping with conceit. "Do you know how hard it is for one of my unparalleled sophistication seeing so many lowly commoners without even the good sense to scrub themselves properly?! It's as though peasants simply delight in making themselves a nuisan-"

Under-Dog was visibly cringing. "Stop, STOP!! I give up, I go to jail, just no more!!"

Dropping the Patented Pretentious Pony Pose™, Batmane smirked. "Thank you, kind sir." He drew bat-cuffs from his belt that fit around the bank robber's large wrists. Somehow.

A moment later, a familiar blinding light pulled him in again.

---

Safely back at his desk, Blueblood quickly slid the comic he'd just escaped into a desk drawer, wary of repeating what he'd just been through. He noticed he wasn't the only thing that came out of the comic, the communicator he'd talked to Spike through was now sitting on his desk.

Before he could examine it, a puff of green fire manifested in front of him, producing a letter from the young dragon.

Hey, Blue!

Glad you made it out of the comic, I know what it's like getting trapped in there. Anyway, if you're getting this, I-

His reading was cut off by a noise.

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

He answered the communicator much faster this time. "Hello?"

Spike's face once again appeared on the little screen. "Hey! I figured if the comm got through, it made more sense to just call. You probably have questions?"

Blueblood nodded. "How did this device get here?"

Spike smiled. "Princess Celestia sent Twilight a few spells. Complicated stuff, but nothing she couldn't handle." The grin grew nostalgic. "Looked like she was having a blast, actually. I figure the Princess probably cast the same spell for you and sent me a letter explaining what to do."

"About the MCTF? Which is a...?"

"Magic Comic Task Force," the little dragon answered proudly, "we're the ones who'll be dealing with these enchanted comics every time they come up, before they trap more ponies."

"Others are getting absorbed into these things as well?!"

Spike shook his head a little. "Not yet. Y'see, the copy you picked up was part of an exclusive early-access deal as usual, right?"

Blueblood nodded, distantly ashamed. It wasn't that he wanted to read them before anypony else, he just couldn't wait as long and had more than enough money to get a copy before official distribution began.

"Well," Spike continued, "it looks like the rest of the comics are enchanted the same way, and nopony knows why. If no one does anything about it, lots of ponies, and me, could get sucked into the pages again, but as long as we sort them out before they're all over the place, the day is saved!"

"And what's this about you being Commissioner?"

"I keep in the loop about what's coming out each week enough to know what's going on in the story, who the bad guys are, what they're up to, that kinda thing, but we need somepony to go in and stop them." He looked away. "I, uh... I'd go in myself, but you know..."

Blueblood raised a princely eyebrow.

Spike shook his little head. "D-don't worry about it. We'll probably be doing this until somepony figures out what's up with the comics. Seeya next week!" He waved a claw as the feed cut off, leaving Blueblood alone in his chamber again.

...This won't end well.

Author's Notes:

Howdy, reader! Ah'm gonna be tryin' these here author's notes in Applejack's country twang fer practice, hope that don't bother ya none.
Fer starters, sarry iffin' the first chapter 'r two ain't quite as excitin' as ya might like, but'cha know how it goes establishin' things. Gotta kick before ya can buck a tree, gotta buck a tree before ya can kick holes in time an' space, grab the sun by burnin' reigns, and ride it into the next life!
Yeeee-haw!
'Nother thing, y'all might be wonderin'; "is this here tale based a'tall on that story, Dark Knight of Canterlot?" An' Ah say "not really, but that IS where the idea fer Blueblood playin' the part'a Batman came from. Rest is purdy much silly gibberish, is mah goal."
Ah'll be updatin' this whenever somethin' comes t'a mind, not editin' an' refinin' near as much, but the rest'a what Ah'm workin' on should be higher quality.

Issue #2: The Wall-Eyed Wonder!

The prince spent his following days in a state of quiet uncertainty, following his forced excursion into the world of comic books. On one hoof, he'd been drafted into a possibly dangerous task. On the other, that task was awesome! He got to be a super hero! Living the dream!

...Kindof.

He didn't exactly handle that first case in what seemed the ideal, heroic fashion, but he'd been Batmane, saved the day! That was pretty amazing, wasn't it...? He'd never gotten much warning from Celestia, who must have known what was going on if the communicator ended up on his desk, but he'd not had the courage to ask her about these events.

So he waited, going about life as normal until it was time for the next adventure, hoping he'd have something up his sleeve besides the less tolerable mannerisms of the Canterlot Elite. Sure enough, the communicator, which he now carried on his royal person at all times, eventually sounded.

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

Taking a quick look around and finding himself to be alone, he answered it. "Hello?"

Spike seemed cheerful. "Heya, Blue! It's time for action, you remember what to do?"

He nodded, having been briefly briefed on what the newest addition to his chambers was for, a magical device that meant he could safely cancel the early-access subscription and still enter the comic world. It loses some of the urgency when one is directly involved, I find...

"Great, up up and away!" There was a long pause. Spike coughed once. "Uhhm... Lookin' for something heroic to say for the start of these things, ya know? I'll keep working on it."

The feed cut off and Blueblood made his way to the chair hooked up to a magic carpet that, he was told, would transport him into the first activated comic, no matter where it was. He didn't question how this worked so much as why the chair happened to resemble a large bean-bag. He'd pushed the thing, carpet and all, into a corner of his chambers and hung decorative banners around the area to hide it.

Nopony even associated with high society should be seen in proximity to such a seat, he thought, even if I disappear seconds after touching it.

And that, he knew, was what he now had to do. Brushing past the banners to access that corner of the room, he set a hoof on the bag-chair and waited.

When nothing happened, he deigned to press both forehooves into it's surface, then stood atop the bulbous cushion with all four hooves. It was just as he pondered, feeling foolish, whether or not this was more or less dignified than being found in a bean-bag chair that he vanished in a flash of white light.

---

Maretropolis

Night had fallen, though the fictional city was practically under Nightmare Moon's influence in most issues. Standing at the edge of a high rooftop, Batmane triple-checked that the grappling hook in his utility belt was fully functional.

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

As was the communicator. "Hello?"

"Hey, Blue! It looks like the Mane-iac's goons are on the prowl, and a lot of 'em." Spike grinned. "Don't worry though, you're not alone this time!"

"How so," he asked, peering over the edge of the rooftop in search of the aforementioned band of thugs, keeping an eye out for terrible manecuts and eye-gouging attire, "are the Power Ponies involved in this one?"

"Uhmmm," Spike uhmmm'd nervously, "There's, uh... No, not quite."

Batmane waited for elaboration. He'd assumed he'd only had to work alone last time because he entered the comic first, nopony else yet there to assist him and waiting around not something he was keen on doing.

"Well, the first time this happened, six ponies were brought to the comic world, each taking the role of a Power Pony. Right now, I'm only reading two hero billings; you and the one who set off the comic."

He decided against interpreting Spike's commissioner jargon. "So where's the other one?"

"Should be in there somewhere, probably fighting already. I'd go look for Mane-iac's goons, good luck, Batmane!"

The feed cut off. Peering through Bat-noculars, he caught sight of poorly-dressed thugs a few blocks over, drew the grappling hook again, muttered a quiet prayer, and set off.

It proved easier than he would have guessed. Maybe he really was Batmane in here?

---

Nope. The Mane-iac's primarily green-maned henchmen proved to be a different kettle of fish to the Under-Dog. He had approached them with the quiet intensity Batmane was known to project, held out a hoof as they approached, and tried diplomacy.

"Stop where you are," he'd said, "you've all been working for the Mane-iac long enough to know how this goes, have you not?"

They stopped, many nodded.

"Then you know that you stand no chance of succeeding, don't you? That hapless mooks like you always fail utterly?" He puffed out his chest a bit, grinning. "That will be the case here, for I am justice, I am the night, I! Am! Batmane!" He stood on his hind legs with the last utterance, throwing out his cape not unlike a traveling showpony he'd never heard of.

The goons shrugged, one of them ready with a retort. "Maybe so, but we don't put a lot of stock in past attempts. Like the boss always says; doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result is the definition of success!"

It was at this point Batmane noticed that there were over a dozen of them and one of him. Time to see if I can channel Batmane's legendary hoof-to-hoof technique as well!

Nope. In minutes, he was subdued, restrained, and hung upside down from a lamp post. Swinging gently where he was, he turned to the one he'd talked to earlier, or at least one that looked exactly like him, and asked "Best two out of three?"

They actually seemed to consider this, but before any could reply, two that had been standing close were hit from the side by a red streak of light and sent flying, the red streak zipping about furiously in the air.

"It's a phoenix," cried one of the thugs, pointing a hoof at the whirl of motion as it plowed into another henchpony, who landed face-down in the hatch of a mail box.

"It's a manticore!" Two more taken down.

"No, it's...!"

It finally slowed down after smashing into a nearby office building, tearing straight through the brick wall. All was quiet apart from hoofsteps, until, emerging from the hole was a blonde, grey-furred pegasus in a long, red cape, a red and yellow emblem of several circles in a vague line pattern on her chest. She waved a hoof, a cheerful, almost vacant grin on her face. "Hi, everypony!"

The goons still standing cried out at once. "Super Mare!!"

Blueblood, still hanging upside down not unlike his namesake, grinned. While a boring hero to read about in most cases, Super Mare was perhaps the strongest, most powerful hero to date in the few years comic books have really been coming into their own in Equestria, which made her ideal backup. All he'd really have to do now is-... What is she doing?

Super Mare approached Mane-iac's goons as they banded together threateningly, smiled, and said "I'm here to help!" The thugs paused, looking at one another for a moment as glanced around curiously, a happy little grin on her face. "That's what super ponies do, right? Help other ponies? And griffons? And sea serpants? Whoever needs a helping of..." her brow furrowed for an instant "Help?"

"Yes," Batmane called out, "you could help by-"

"Yea, sure," a mook said loudly, drowning out Batmane by virtues of volume and proximity to the listener, "we could sure use some help gettin' some stuff outta that bank over there, right fellas?" His comrades nodded a collective affirmative.

Batmane rolled his eyes, though none could likely see it through his mask without X-ray vision. Which he believed Super Mare had. Please, they don't really think she's that stu-

"Okie-dokey!"

I hate my life.

He watched helplessly as Super Mare knocked on the bank door twice, then bucked it down at the request of a green-haired henchpony. They filed into the building as the communicator sounded.

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

With a light of his horn, he answered. "Hello, you've reached Upside Down Town, where criminal lunatics are assisted by super heroes and others are hung from lamp posts. If you'd like to leave a message-"

"Hey!" Spike snapped, "Batmane doesn't do quips, no sense of humor?"

"Right, sorry."

"It's cool. Anyway, what are you doing? There are like, fifteen different ways you can get out of that!"

Batmane sighed. "Yes, but what am I to do when they politely ask Super Mare to punch me through a wall?"

"Um-"

"Then BACK through the same wall with the velocity she used to fly around the world to intercept me while I was airborne?"

"Just let her know they're the bad guys, I'm sure she'll stop helping them when she knows who's who. Derpy might be a little slow, but she's not stupid."

"Derpy?"

Spike chuckled. "I'll tell ya later. Don't worry, if talking doesn't work, I know her weakness! Now you've gotta go stop those crooks, you're the Batmane!"

beep!

Sighing, but not sure what he had to lose now if this didn't work, Batmane lit his horn to trigger the blades hidden in edges of his cape, which gained the full sturdiness of steel swords as they extended, his cape launching out to his sides like the wings of a great and terrible blade-bat as they cut the ropes.

He landed on his head.

Paying no mind to the faint stars dizzily dancing in his peripheral vision, he got up as the cape-blades retracted and charged after the criminals -and Super Mare- into the bank.

---

When he caught up to the group, they were standing before the thirteen-ton vault door, behind which a wealth of gold, currency, and various valuables awaited.

Batmane wouldn't have been surprised if the Mane-iac just wanted her goons to steal the door and leave, money untouched.

Keeping his distance, he pressed himself against the wall of the doorway closest to the vault. Drawing a smoke bomb from his utility belt, he was confident that he'd at least have plenty of help from his telekinesis rather than his throwing skill in making sure it hit home. Glancing quickly through the doorway and making a note of where Super Mare stood, he sent the projectile on it's way, thick clouds immediately filling the area.

He dashed in, holding out a hoof to shove the two thugs between him and his target aside when he got near them, grabbing Super Mare, who responded with a startled exclamation, by the cape, and quickly pulling her away from the group of coughing henchponies. There were no decent hiding places in the bank, but the nearest broom closet would have to do, cramped though it proved to be.

"Alright," he whispered, her yellow mane tickling his snout as he tried to look her in the eye, "I don't know what kind of hero you're familiar with, but-"

Her eyes, which he realized now were pointed in different directions, widened slightly before she scowled, grabbed him in both forehooves, and slammed him against the nearest wall, which he was already pressed against. "I've gotcha now, Mr. Bad Guy!"

"WHAT?!"

She nodded with a cheerful little grin. "I'm a super hero, don't worry, it's what I'm here for."

"That's not the part that worries me!" Wrigging out of her grip was proving difficult, possibly more because they were cramped in a closet than due to her super strength. "What makes you think I, a fellow pony in a costume, am the villain here?"

She spoke simply, as though describing the color of the sky on a sunny day. "You were apparently getting in the way of those nice ponies outside, you're dressed in black, you were sneaking around, and now you've tried to kidnap somepony." She gave a quick nod, her face the picture of calm happiness. "Bad guy."

Sputtering for a second, Batmane realized his usual methods -well, the normal Batmane's usual methods- did in fact, seem a little under-hoofed and vaguely sinister, but he had his reasons! "Haven't you ever heard of stealth?"

She quickly blinked one eye, then the other. "Huh?"

"No? Fitting, I suppose..."

Super Mare tilted her head, confused.

The Dark Knight shook his head, for what he could. "Sometimes it's necessary to utilize less obvious tactics to achieve a given task, you can't always use brute force and expect everything to work out, sometimes guile is more useful than-WAIT!" Feeling a flare of annoyance at a sudden realization, he planted both forehooves on Super Mare's shoulders and pushed her against the wall opposite the one she had been pressing him against, eliciting a startled shout. "What," he uttered through gritted teeth, "are you doing here if you don't even know who Batmane is? Weren't you drawn into this world through a magic comic?"

She nodded quickly, apparently having forgotten Super Mare's powers of nigh-invulnerability long enough to be intimidated.

He eased up slightly. "Then you're a fan of these things, aren't you? We're playing the parts of two of the best-known heroes in the comic book industry, how do you not know who we are, and not know Mane-iac's thugs when you see them?"

She smiled sheepishly, a hint of a blush growing under her fur. "I, um... I was just delivering a package, but it slipped out of it's wrapping and when I picked it up, I got sent here somehow. Sorry?"

Staring at her for several seconds, expressionless, Batmane decided they were probably running out of time, the smoke bomb's effects had likely worn off by now and the band of goons may soon be upon them. "At any rate, we have to stop those criminals, they-"

Super Mare's expression returned to the obliviously cheerful one he'd first seen her with. "Okay!" She slammed him against the wall again.

He stared at her, silent rage filling the air not unlike the emissions of the smoke bomb mere moments before. Batmane's cowl hid his eyes, the only part of him not covered in shiny blackness being his muzzle, and he guessed he must have been displaying an impressive scowl as his supposed ally started to sweat, looking more nervous than one of her power should be in this situation.

"Umm," She uttered, forcing a smile, "I-I take you to jail now, right?"

He was so very tempted, if he could move his forehooves, to repeatedly punch her. Once. Lightly. Maybe not at all. Not like she would feel it, anyway... While proving herself to be more vexing to work with than anypony he could recall, he couldn't seem to stay angry for long. The World's Greatest Detective reasoned that it must have been something in those golden, mal-aligned eyes, an innocent 'I'm just trying to help' kind of look. He let out a long breath through his snout, not paying any attention to Super Mare's embarrassed cough at their close proximity.

"Listen," he said as calmly as possible, "those ponies you were helping, what do you think they're up to?"

She drew a forehoof to her chin, face scrunching up in concentration. "Um..."

Time being a factor, he sped things along. "They wanted into a bank. At night. The doors were locked. What were they asking you to do before I arrived?"

Super Mare smiled, she knew this one! "Open the big, shiny door!"

"The vault."

She nodded quickly, cheerful little grin proudly displayed.

"The vault in a bank, which they wish to withdraw from at night, when the bank isn't in hours of oper-"

Her smile vanished and eyes widened as she interrupted him. "They're robbing the place!!"

"YES!!"

Voices of Mane-iac's minions sounded distantly from outside the closet.

You hear that?

They're over here!

This way!

"Alright," Batmane said quickly, "they'll soon find us, but with a bit of planning, I think we can-"

Super Mare became a red blur, her vibrant cape firing through the closet door with an audible WHOO-CRASH, leaving pegasus-shaped hole that went clean through the immediate brickwork as Batmane spun in place for a few seconds. Right, he thought once he could stand straight again, I guess winging it works too.

When he caught up to her, she was standing off against the group of thugs, all now armed with pipes, chains, and baseball bats. Super Mare's stance was an aggressive one, legs apart, wings unfurled, head slightly lowered, and giving the best wall-eyed glare she could manage. She spoke to the henchponies. "You lied to me."

"Get her!" one cried out, the rest charging with weapons raised, Super Mare standing perfectly still as they approached. Batmane flung a single batarang, missing the throw, but guiding it to the back of a pipe-wielder's head telekinetically, sending him muzzle-first to the floor. Sadly, this did nothing to stop the rest, who descended on his partner in a whirlwind of violence and grunts of exertion by Mane-iac's goons. He couldn't see or hear any sign that Super Mare was fighting back, no minions sent flying, no laser vision, not even any cries of pain.

I don't think I can aim batarangs well enough to help her in that tumult, another smoke bomb might disorient them, but then we'd be back to square one, perhaps another gadget could-No, he knew what he was supposed to do, situations like this called for Batmane's signature martial arts prowess to break up the melee. He had yet to prove himself in that field so far and had no illusions about recreating his 'success' with Under-Dog here, he would have to strike them with his hooves to give Super Mare some breathing room. Galloping into the fray, he took a deep breath, pulled back a hoof, and swung it, -clean over his target's head- and was unwittingly struck in the chest by a thug winding up a swing of his baseball bat, blind-sided by a stray forehoof, and knocked back by a stumbling goon who hadn't seen, or felt, Batmane standing there.

Getting up, Batmane once again stood back, weighing options. Perhaps he could throw a desk at them or something? Pull a fire alarm and see if it proved enough distraction to-

The violence had stopped. The dust settled as the Mane-iac's henchponies stood panting, their weapons broken, Super Mare standing in the middle in her exact stance from when it began, not a scratch on her. The minions exchanged worried looks.

"You lied to me," she said, as though the last few minutes hadn't happened at all, "nice ponies don't lie to eachother. I trusted you when you said you needed help and you used me. That hurts." Her voice dropped slightly, not quite becoming a growl, but very much filled with... Not anger, but perhaps, disappointment? "Now go sit in the corner, all of you."

The band of criminals stood flummoxed, some scratching their heads with a hoof. "Um-"

Super Mare stomped, the noise as startling as the cracking of pavement under her hoof. "NOW!"

The surrounding felons quickly scattered, some shoving eachother aside for a few seconds as they fought over different corners of the room before all were seated, facing the walls.

Batmane, however, stood with his head spinning, and not just due to the blow to the head from a moment ago, desperately trying to get his brain to work as Super Mare casually trotted up to him, face set in an apologetic smile. She spoke softly. "Sorry about, um... All that stuff that happened. Are you ok?"

It was somewhere in the time it took for police arrive to start cuffing Mane-iac's goons that he finally managed to sort out what had happened, but wanted to double-check anyway. "Let me see if I understand this: You weild power beyond the scope of even the mightest earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasai put together, and deal with a dozen assailants that spent a good minute or so wailing on you with all their might by scolding them?"

Super Mare nodded, cheerful little grin shining once more. "Yup!"

"...Might I ask why? You're very much allowed to strike back, you know, it's even encouraged."

She frowned for a moment. "Maybe, but it doesn't sound very nice."

He deadpanned. "And it was 'nice' taking out a half-dozen or so when you first arrived, before tearing through that building?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. "I was running into ponies again?!" She turned her attention to the group being led away in hoof-cuffs, waving a hoof pleadingly. "Sorry I hit you earlier, I couldn't really see where I was going!" Many, both cops and would-be robbers, turned to look at her for a moment. "I'm not used to flying that fast and it was kinda hard to steer, so I'm really, really, really-"

The stream of really's was cut off by laughter, first from Maretropolis's Finest, then from the criminals themselves. Not by Batmane, though, who clenched his teeth to keep a straight face. Batmane had no sense of humor, after all. Super Mare went from worried contrition to lightly embarrassed hoof-shuffling, smiling sheepishly as Batmane put a hoof on her shoulder. "You did well, Wall-Eyed Wonder, you did well."

She blinked once before beaming proudly, standing tall with wings extended as the last henchpony was cuffed, a blinding light pulling the two heroes in.

---

Landing softly on the beanbag chair, Blueblood now felt he understood why it hadn't been a little throne or something enchanted to bring him into that world. He chuckled. "I'd say you did well for your first time playing a-" Looking around his chambers, he was alone. Somehow he thought the pony in Super Mare's stead would come with him, but couldn't think why.

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

The prince shrugged, answering the communicator. Spike seemed pleased. "Great job, Blue! Next issue's a big showdown with the Mane-iac herself, according to the ad pages." His draconic glee faded a little, concern clear in his face. "Here's hoping you get somepony to help with the next one too."

Blueblood nodded. "Indeed, Mane-iac has taken on all six Power Ponies at once and put up a fight quite a few times, and if she brings that paralytic hairspray..."

Spike smiled. "Well, Derpy got in, right? I'm still trying to figure that one out, but unless you're the one who activates the comic, you're almost sure to have backup, so don't worry about a thing!"

He returned the little dragon's grin, albeit without the fangs. "Until next time."

Author's Notes:

Fer purposes'a fanservice, Ah'm gonna try mah luck at referrences to things, which Ah get the impression is a crowd-pleaser, some obscure, some hopefully not too obvious. Lemme know if it makes ya laugh!
Derpy/Ditzy/Bright Eyes/Whatever, though, ain't got much to do with fanservice, just needed comic relief that wasn't Pinkie Pie, a Boke fer Blueblood's Tsukkomi, iffin' ya see what Ah mean. 'Sides, she's darn fun to write.

Issue #3: Nemesis!

It was time.

Standing at the edge of a rooftop overlooking Maretropolis Bay, Batmane could see the Mane-iac's ship, a behemoth of steel plates crudely bolted together, the vessel shaped not unlike a rubber ducky; the E.S.S. Shower Drain.

Spike had filled him in on the details, from local mailmare Ditzy "Derpy" Doo triggering the comic she was delivering last week to somepony in town with an early order not unlike the one he cancelled a week before that, to the Mane-iac's plan to use some manner of super weapon on the city. He glanced to the two-hundred-meter-tall, shimmering laser curtain that had been raised with the help a series of plasma rings held by air balloons piloted by the Mane-iac's henchponies to encircle all of Maretropolis, trapping the citizens inside as they awaited whatever the Shower Drain in the bay had in store for them.

He had to stop the Mane-iac, obviously, but as he was contemplating whether to try to take down the laser curtain first or go straight out to the boat and risk fighting her head-on, alone, a bright light flashed behind him.

*Wump!*

Quickly turning, he saw the pony that had tumbled haphazardly to the floor upon landing... Ditzy Doo as Super Mare again?

He tilted his head a bit. "How did you get in this time, Miss Doo?"

Getting to her hooves and shaking off the dust, she frowned a little. "There was another order this week. It goes to a filly's house, and I was thinking; what if she had gotten pulled in instead?"

He raised a brow. "So you decided to check on purpose this time, opening the package to make sure the comic inside wasn't enchanted and possibly endangering an innocent foal?"

She grinned brightly, nodding once. "Yup!"

There was a short silence. The Wall-Eyed Wonder looked around for a moment, smile slowly fading as her surroundings sunk in. "Oh. My bad!"

Batmane smiled a little. "Don't worry, I'm actually glad you're here." He motioned to the Shower Drain, floating in the bay, with a hoof. "That vessel, do you think you can use your frost breath to freeze it entirely?"

The busy mailmare hadn't exactly found time to study the role she had played in the last week. "Frost breath?"

He nodded. "Whatever the Mane-iac means to use, I doubt it works when frozen over and likely sunken to the bottom of the bay. Well?"

Her confused little frown told him clarification was in order.

"Super Mare can breathe a cloud of chilling cold, our target is already in the water, we could likely finish this just by sinking the ship by covering it in ice, rendering the super weapon threatening the city inoperable."

The cheerful little grin was restored, and nearly contagious. "Great! So we just have to find Super Mare!"

There was another long pause that did nothing to diminish the pony playing Super Mare's vacant sort of happiness.

"You," the Caped Crusader deadpanned, "You are Super Mare."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, eyes widening in comprehension, "Then, do I just...?"

He opened his mouth to answer, only to realize he had no idea how one kind of breath would deliberately be used as opposed to any other. "Ermm," he muttered, "Just, uh, breathe hard, I guess?"

She took a deep breath before Batmane frantically held up a hoof. "AWAY FROM ME, AWAY FROM ME!!"

Super Mare staggered a bit, catching herself before unleashing the respiratory assault on her fellow crime fighter. Smiling apologetically as much as she was able, she instead turned to the empty space off the edge of the roof, and quickly breathed out, the force of the wind slamming her into, *SMASH* and through, the door to the staircase that led up to that rooftop.

Not terribly surprised, Batmane called into the pegasus-with-a-cape-shaped hole. "Miss D-err, Super Mare?"

"I'm ok!" She came clattering up the steps with a piece of the door still stuck around a hind hoof.

Right then, plan B. "Don't worry, I have another idea of how we can stop this thing. You still know how to fly, no?"

She nodded rapidly in perfect rhythm with shaking the broken wooden ring off her leg, looking like she was doing some bizarre little dance.

"Good, I have a new plan; Do you see those balloons, the ones holding the big, glowing rings...?"

---

Splitting up didn't seem like the safest plan, but it was probably the best one. With Super Mare flying about taking down the balloons -all she'd have to do was fly through them, something he felt she had proven her aptitude at- and him sabotaging the weapon directly, the two-pronged attack should be enough to thwart whatever the Mane-iac was scheming.

He just wished it didn't mean doing what he was about to do. Standing on the roof's edge with bat-noculars, he confirmed for the fifth time that there was a deck on the beak of the Shower Drain that he could likely glide to, it would make the perfect landing pad provided somepony wasn't there with a big weapon to intercept him. Near as he could tell, the coast was clear. Batmane practiced the motions he had seen in non-magical comic books countless times, stretching out his cape with forehooves extended outwardly at his sides. Then again. And again. And again.

Jumping from a tall building with intent to land on a relatively small spot in a large pool of water seemed-

"Will you get going already?!"

Startled by Spike's surprise broadcast, Batmane slipped off the roof, flailing his legs inelegantly as he plunged toward the city streets for a few seconds before saying a silent prayer to Luna -as only made sense with it almost always being night time in Maretropolis- and stretched out his cape again. It took a second or two of panicked, desperate motion on his part, but he managed to pull up enough to catch the wind, speed from his fall sending him sailing upwards and toward the Shower Drain.

Spike's voice was heard again, sounding faintly contrite. "Haha... Sorry about that. Great recovery, though!"

While Batmane was annoyed about his brush with a splattery death, Blueblood couldn't help being proud of himself beneath the mask. "Thank you. How is Super Mare getting along in her task?"

---

*Zap!*

Ditzy was a little confused. On the one hoof, it was pretty easy figuring out where she needed to go, the big old balloons were brightly colored with random lines of paint all over the... Big, gas-filled, makes-it-float parts. It looked a bit like some of Dinky's drawings, only on big, round, floaty paper!

*Zapzap!*

On the other hoof, there were ponies in the baskets on the balloons flashing lights at her, lines of light that hurt just a little when they touched her fur. She guessed that meant that those ponies weren't trying to guide her to the balloons as she'd first hoped, like a long-range version of an air traffic controller's glowy wiggle-sticks.

Putting two and two together, the Pony in Black wanting her to fly through those balloons, which she was pretty sure would pop them, and the ponies in the balloons shooting at her with stingy, zappy flashlights, she guessed that that meant the ponies in the balloons were the bad guys again.

Flapping her wings as fast as she could, Ditzy shot through the air like Rainbow Dash when she was late for work again, maybe even faster! She closed her eyes instinctively when the realization that she was about to do the last thing a pegasus should ever reasonably do popped up in her head; fly straight into something. Still, the Pony in Black was counting on her, and she was pretty strong when she wore a cape, right?

Tearing easily through the balloon's floaty-bubble part, Ditzy determined that; #1, It was dark in there, #2, it was easier than popping a normal balloon usually was, -not that she popped balloons on purpose, things just kindof happened- and #3, she would have to tell Dinky never to fly through a balloon later. It was just as she was starting to feel proud, forehooves on her hips in a heroic pose she'd seen on the cover of one of these comics as she hovered in the air, that Ditzy noticed a pair of *POMF* sounds from below. Looking down, she saw two white circles, looking a lot like parachutes.

"Oh," she uttered aloud, "there are ponies in these things! Guess I should be extra careful not to-"

*Zap!*

Ditzy yelped in surprise as a light stinging sensation spread across her flank for a few seconds. It looked like the other balloon guys were mad about the first one going down. That was fine, because she was getting mad about getting shot at!

"Hey!" she shouted in the direction the shot came from, "you could really hurt somepony with-"

*Zap!*

She was caught on the snout, which stung considerably more than the shot to her behind. Letting out a strangled sqeuak, she drew both forehooves to her face, rubbing the pain away before glaring at the ponies in the balloon... And also the sky to her upper-left. Ditzy couldn't remember the last time she was so mad, she was actually seeing red!

*FREEEEEM!*

...Why was the balloon that she had been looking at on fire? Why were the ponies with the mean flashlights jumping out and pulling the strings on parachutes now...?

---

Spike chuckled. "I think she's figured out heat vision."

"Splendid," Batmane replied as he touched down on the beak of the Shower Drain, "is there any way we can contact her when that task is finished?"

"Nah... We should probably get Ditzy a communicator like yours, just in case this becomes a regular thing."

Batmane would have chuckled at that, but such an action would have implied a sense of humor. "Perhaps so," he said stoically, "if only to stay organized when in these comics. Moving in to halt the operation of this contraption, please maintain radio silence."

"Aye-aye!"

*beep!*

Keeping low, he slid along the beak toward the door on the giant, metal duck's head. Why nautical doors tended to have valves he could only guess was to keep water out, but he turned the handle a few times and slipped in, quietly closing it behind him.

Quickly checking the metal patch-work hallway, he found himself alone, apart from the many pipes, thick and thin, running in virtually all directions throughout the corridor, steam hissing from various valves and bolts. A few minutes of exploration showed that the rest of the ship seemed to follow a similar interior design protocol, but he didn't see anything he could identify as a weapon, let alone one large enough to threaten the city.

He did, however, come upon a familiar tendril of green hair lying partially through a doorway. Approaching it slowly, he peeked his head into the doorway, seeing many more tendrils wrapped around switches, valves and levers strewn about what seemed to be a control room of some sort. At the center of it all, of course, was the Mane-iac. Her purple, gold-accented suit and black boots had always looked somewhat silly to him before, but now, apparently operating this entire vessel on her own? It had a vaguely regal feel, and a much more intimidating one at that. Moreso when she was giggling maniacally with a twisted smile on her face.

When she wasn't looking in his direction, Batmane silently swept into the room, leaping over the first tendril he'd spotted and under another one, darting to the side of a third before flattening himself against a wall largely in the shadows. This is a bad time to be giddy, but I've never felt so agile! I wonder if Miss Doo is getting as good a hold on her role here?

---

There was one fun thing about being Super Mare so far; she could fly like a Wonderbolt!

...Kindof.

She had already smashed through a few things that weren't balloons, but she did it while soaring, spinning, and zig-zagging through the skies so fast she could hardly tell where she was going! Moreso than usual! The ponies with the stingy flashlights weren't even hitting her anymore, but she remembered that she was supposed to be stopping the balloons with the glowy rings to make the glowy wall around the city go away.

Super Mare figured it would save time if she could make that fire-eyes thing happen again, but wasn't sure how to do it. She tried staring at the balloons, glaring at them, winking at them, even closing her eyes altogether. The last one got her stuck in a wall for a few seconds.

Flying around doing tricks to not get shot at, she tried to drum up a plan. Alrighty, flying through the balloons one by one might work, but they're ALL AROUND the city, and I should probably figure out how to do the eye thing on purpose so I don't do it on accident. I'd hate to set Mr. Black on fire, even if he does look like a bad guy.

Come to think of it, it's not very nice to set bad guys on fire either. I should know, I've had my tail catch- *CRASH!!*

And she kept getting distracted by stuff! Like buildings! Being a hero was kindof frustrating. Wait, that gives me an idea!

Planting her hooves on a rooftop, she looked at a distant balloon, scrunched up her face, and thought angry thoughts! Lemons! Unmarked mail! Heavy packages! Paper cuts! Lemon juice in paper cuts! Flim and Flam! Bad cider! My-

It was working, she saw red! With her best Angry on, Ditzy stared straight at the balloon... And a random cluster of stars in the sky.

*FREEEEEM!*

As the colorful floaty-part caught fire and started to sink in the air, ponies with stingy flashlights hopping out and activating their parachutes, she threw her forehooves into the air. "Woo-hoo!"

*Zap!*

"Yeeouch!!"

There were still a few more of them...

---

Batmane spent several minutes slowly creeping around the quietly cackling supervillain at the center of the control room, but he couldn't find any indication of what anything in the vicinity did. Even if he could, each and every switch and lever was the grasp of a mane-tentacle capable of throwing whole mailboxes like they were nothing. As he contemplated quietly slicing through a lock of green hair with something in his belt and seeing if he could manipulate what it had been controlling, the Mane-iac began to speak.

"Soooon, hahahaha! Soon, I, I, The Mane-iac, will have accumulated enough debris from the bottom of the bay to fire from the Shower Drain's system of pressurized tubes into a great, fishy mass of mussy mess, directly into the city of Maretropolis! MY VENGEANCE! SHALL BE! COMPLETE! Haha! Ha-ha! HAAAAAAAA, HAHAHAHAHHAheeheehohoo!"

Something wrapped around Batmane's hind legs, whipping him through the air with a jolt and stopping with him upside down, face dangling about a meter from the Mane-iac's. "Isn't that right, dear Dark Knight?"

Stoic. Calm. Humorless. These were the things Blueblood would have to be right now, the things Batmane would be. "You'll never succeed, your henchponies in the balloons are being taken down as we speak."

His captor grinned, one eye's iris and pupil seeming to grow larger than the other's. "Ohhh, really?" She looked away, a hoof drawn to her chin. "Then I suppose I should just weigh anchor and shove off? I mean, the entire city is sure to be evacuated within the next ten minutes," her wild eyes returned to him, "isn't it?"

The pony currently hanging like his namesake gritted his teeth. "What do you mean?"

The Mane-iac folded her forelegs, looking annoyed. "Weigh anchor, it's a nautical term?" A lock of her mane from the top of her head rose up to reveal a navy captain's cap, which quickly sank back down. "Not that it matters, since SOMEPONY stopped my crew from stealing the anchor I would have used from the bank!"

The Caped Crusader blinked. "A golden anchor? That's just ostentatious!" Less so than the jewel-encrusted anchors he had seen on the yachts of some of his peers back in Canterlot, but still.

She shook her head, which eerily didn't seem to effect anything her mane tendrils had been holding. "No, you salty sea-biscuit! The door to the vault! What better anchor than something really heavy?!"

He could not face-hoof hard enough. "I meant with the evacuation in ten min-"

She beamed, sing-songing an interruption. "NIIIIIIINE minutes!"

"...Nine minutes."

She cackled for several seconds. "That is correct! It is already too late for the citizens to flee, for by the time they do, they will already be covered in oceanic gunk! HA-haaaaaaaa, heeheeheeheeheeheehee!"

Batmane could only deadpan a reply. "And you would want to do that, why?"

The villainess held him uncomfortably close, face fixed in a deranged glare. "Do you have AAANY idea, what it's like cleaning the hair out of my bathtub? Wet hair. SO. MUCH. HAIR!!" The tendrils held him a bit further from her, offering a bit of much-welcomed breathing room as their master cringed and stuck out her tongue. "It's really gross! Ick!" She quickly reverted to insane stares. "So, I will make a watery mess of the city, and ALLLL will know my pain! Ha! Ha-ha! Mwaaaaaa-huff-hahahahahahaha!"

Never having to clean his own facilities, or much of anything, really, Blueblood couldn't quite relate to her difficulties, but felt an odd pang of sympathy. It was immediately diluted by the knowledge that the madmare intended to assault the city with massive blasts of projectile filth. "All this because you fell in a vat of chemicals? Really?"

She gave him a sideways look, something in her eyes telling him she was thinking of sharp objects.

He shrugged, for what he was able, forgetting the threat the Mane-iac posed for the moment. "Don't misunderstand, I'm sure it was a very traumatizing experience, but if you're capable of the cognitive thought it takes to put together a working ship shaped like a giant bath toy, I'd think you would realize how futile your plans tend to-URK!"

She swung him closer to herself, hardly flinching when their heads collided, her tone low and eyes searching. "Who. Are. You. Question. Mark."

The impact did no favors for the blood that had been rushing to his head, sending waves of vertigo through his brain. "P-pardon me?"

"You cannot decieve me! Batmane has never cared for the details of a life besides his own!" A few mane tendrils abandoned the controls they had been working to pry at his cowl. "Now reveal yourself, inquisitive impostor!"

"Gah!" Not-Quite-Batmane swung his forelegs frantically in an effort to keep the hairy tentacles away from his head, unintentionally slipping free with an accidental elbow the the Mane-iac's face.

*Pow!*

"Arrrgh!" She stumbled backward, mane and tail twitching for several seconds as the Dark Knight darted about the room in a dizzy, black blur to throw the uncovered switches, press buttons, and turn valves. Anything had to disrupt whatever they were doing, right?

"Hahahahaheehee, hoooohahahaha! I will duct-tape your face to my toaster, that I may always remember this encounter!"

He stopped, turning to face her with more than a hint of Canterlot Snobbishness in his voice. "That is just vile."

It was now that he noticed something in the grip of one of her tendrils; his cowl. Reaching up to his face with a hoof, he learned it had indeed been removed, Batmane was unmasked!!

He dove through the air, snatching it from the green hair-tentacle and slipping it back on in an instant. This left him standing uncomfortably close to the Mane-iac. Turning to face her, he adapted the best imitation he could manage of one of Batmane's many combat stances, and prepared for another go at his legendary hoof-to-hoof prowess!

...But the Mane-iac just stood there, staring at him. Her face was completely devoid of emotion apart from wide, oddly-colored eyes. Lowering herself to the ground, she stopped floating on her prehensile mane and tail, walking on her own hooves to follow him as he slowly backed away, eyes locked with his.

Her gaze suggested he had very little time to live, not directly, but more a light implication delivered passingly while offering another cup of tea. The look made no sense, but regardless, he scrambled away from her, throwing levers and turning valves at random before she descended on him like a hairy timberwolf on a trapped rabbit.

He rolled out from under her, galloping across the control room and almost tripping, twice, over long locks of her mane and tail strewn about the area, all writhing and brustling as she moved to give chase. Right about now was the time for clever plans and crafty use of gadgets, but Blueblood could only flee in desperate panic, cursing the chamber for not pointing him to the doorway he came in. The most terrifying thing about being chased, very closely, by a powerful supervillain? Apart from the *CLANG!* of her thrashing tendrils against metal as she regularly impacted walls and control panels in pursuit of him and the *SSllsss-SSllssss!* of the hair not preoccupied with machinery or violence being dragged along the metal patch-work floor, she wasn't making a sound.

Breathing heavily as he circumnavigated the room for the 8th time, he couldn't hear any crazed banter, any dramatic declarations, any insane laughter, nothing! Still frantically trying to find the way out, but not being allowed to stop and look for a single instant, he eventually tripped over a tendril, which immediately locked around his barrel, pulling him close to the Mane-iac. She smiled, the corners of her mouth slowly spreading into an ear-to-ear grin as her tendrils slid along his head, tugging at the cowl again.

Before he could activate an escape gadget again, a distant noise was heard.

*Ka-thunk!*

Halting motion entirely, of herself and her hair, the Mane-iac blinked. "Did you hear-"

*Ka-thunk!*

"That, yes! It sounded just like pony-sized holes being punctured in a giant, metal rubber ducky!" Red warning lights flashed from nearby monitors, Batmane could see the bold letters.

"Drat," the Mane-iac shouted, "this is not at all the kind of mess I had hoped to make!" She adjusted several switches and valves at once around the room with her mane. "It matters not! For I may still steer the Shower Drain STRAIGHT, into the harbor! Bwoo-ha! Hahahahahahaha!"

*KA-THUNK!*

The ship's engines died as quickly as they'd started, the Mane-iac looking tiredly at Batmane. "Oh, nevermind."

He activated the cape-blades with a light of his horn, cutting free of the hair that had grabbed him and thankfully landing on all four hooves this time. The instant he did so, however, a familiar red blur fired into the room with a resounding *KA-THUNK!*

He called out to her. "Super Mare!"

She stumbled for a moment, golden eyes dizzily dancing in their sockets. "Hey, Mr. Black! Duckies are a LOT harder than balloons!"

"We have to get out of here, the ship won't hold together much longer!"

The Mane-iac lunged at him, but was immediately pulled back, her mane tangled around various panels and pillars from the chase earlier.

Noticing this, Batmane tried to pull her free before Super Mare acted on his suggestion of a few seconds before, zipping past thick, green bands and grabbing hold of him before pointing a hoof at the ceiling. "Hold on tight, Mr. Black!"

He quickly looked back and forth between the oblivious heroine and the trapped villainess, time seemingly slowing down as he looked the latter in the eye. She was trapped, her long, wild mane and tail tangled on things all around the room, and yet, calm. Her green-and-red-ringed eyes held him in that instant, wide and staring. In the distorted seconds it took for Super Mare to fly him through the roof and out into the night air, he swore he saw her begin to smile.

Things rushing back to normal speed as they sped away from the massive bath toy of doom, a rumbling noise was heard from it, followed by laughter.

"Heh-hahahahahahahahaha, Hue-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! AAAAAAAHAHA-HAHA-HAHAHAA, HAHAHAAA!"

"Super Mare," he called out, "we have to go back, she's still-"

*KRAK-BOOOOOOOM!!*

"...Nevermind," he uttered.

They touched down on a bay-bottom-bile-free rooftop in town as Batmane watched the flaming hunk of scrap metal sink into the water, his partner cheerfully sounding off from behind him. "We did, hurray! ...Right?"

He glanced to her, shoulders slumped. "We might have saved the city, but heroes aren't supposed to let ponies die, even utterly mad ones."

Super Mare drew her forehooves to her face in horror. "That was a pony?!"

The Dark Knight gave a wry grin, about to explain the Mane-iac's standing before being interrupted.

*Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!*

He answered it, holding the screen where the pony without her own communicator would be able to see and hear. "Hello?"

"Great job, guys! That should be the last we'll ever see of the Shower Drain!"

"And the Mane-iac," he replied, paying no mind to Super Mare's confused muttering about the tiny dragon in the box.

Spike blinked once before laughing. "Blue, don't you remember Power Ponies issue #43, the thing with the laser seals? And the ending to #21 before that? She's been through a LOT worse than exploding duck-boats."

He scratched his head with a hoof, having forgotton he was dealing with a fictional character. "Oh. Suppose everything is fine, then?"

Spike chuckled. "I wouldn't worry, the Mane-iac's a tough old bird."

Super Mare drew her forehooves to her face in horror. "That was a bird?!"

Rolling his draconic eyes once, The Commissioner smiled. "Hey, Derpy! Stop by the library when you get back, ok? I've got something to make things easier if you get drawn into the comics again."

She tilted her head. "Like what?"

"I'll fill ya in later," he slyly looked away from the screen, "I think the muffins are almost ready..."

Ditzy "Derpy" Doo beamed. "I'll be there!"

*beep!*

With the communicator deactivated, she noticed the Pony in Black looking around the sky. "Balloons are all down too, it looks like. It seems I was wrong in thinking it mattered, but well done none-the-less."

She grinned. "Hey, what's your name?"

He turned to face her, an eyebrow raised.

"I've been calling you Mr. Black, Spike called you Blue. It's only polite to call ponies by their name, so, who are you?"

He returned the smile, flapping his dark cape once as he turned to face the city, speaking away from her, but loudly enough to be heard. "I am vengeance... I am the night! I! Am!-" he threw his forehooves upwards, cape splaying out like bat wings. Or a certain show-mare. "BATMANE!!"

There was a short silence. "Okie dokie!"

Author's Notes:

Iffin' yer wonderin'? Ditzy ain't gonna be the guest ev'ry time, just dinn't wanna introduce two characters in the same issue an' Ah knew Ah wouldn't be usin' her again fer a while once this intro arc was done. As such, wanted to get some use outta that super-powered silliness that didn't get too far last time.
Gonna try color-codin' sound effects fer that comic-booky feel. Thinkin' Blue might be non-threatenin' stuff that still calls fer it's own ontomontopia, Green is like percussive impacts, Red is lasers an' general pyrotechnics, Purple fer miscellaneous stuff? Might just get annoyin', lemme know if ya have a preference!
Also, audio aid for the Mane-iac's slow-building, maniacal laugh. Only more mare-like, a'course.

Issue #4: Enter the Haytrix!

Bwoo-deep-bdeep-bdeep!

Quickly moving toward his chambers, Blueblood answered. "Another one, Spike? The last one was just two days ago."

"I know, it's weird, but worse than that? I don't know the comic this time."

He paid no mind to the raised eyebrows of a few curious guards and servants as he seemingly talked to himself while floating a strange object near his head on transit to the beanbag chair. "What do you mean?"

"It's like, up to now I've known in advance what might happen based on ads and previews, but this one's a comic I've only heard about, never read." The little drake sounded slightly annoyed. "Twilight said it was full of stuff I wouldn't be able to wrap my head around, lotta crazy mumbo-jumbo and something she called soo-dough science. Anyway, I'll look into it as best I can, but you have to go in there and stop the bad guys just like last time."

Shutting and locking his door, the prince smirked. "Not a problem, there hasn't been a threat yet that Batmane couldn't handle." Give or take help from an easily-confused mailmare.

"Um... About that? I don't think you'll be Batmane this time"

He stopped, one hoof on the massive beanbag. "What? What manner of comic book is this?"

"It's called-" the chair's magic activated, drawing Blueblood into the other world, "The Haytrix."

The next thing he knew, he was standing in a shabby, old building. It wasn't falling apart by any means, but clearly aged as what he was sure was once-elegant decor and tarnished metal lighting fixtures on the walls and ceiling hung above worn tile floors, the whole area having an odd green haze to it. Looking down at himself, he found a black suit very different from the one he'd been expecting. It was an ordinary combination of a black (more a dark-grey, really) shirt, pants, and matching blazer, as though he were attending an overly casual funeral. Before him was a plain, wooden door, the hallway he stood in otherwise empty. Luckily, he still had the communicator. "Alright, where am I?"

"That's... A good question. From what I can tell, the comic you're in was published as a limited edition of the old version, same story, fresher ink. Whoever activated it was probably a big fan to get their claws, err, hooves, on a copy, maybe they'll know what to do?"

"I see. Let me know if you uncover anything else."

"Right on, go get 'em!"

beep!

Glancing down both sides of the corridor, Blueblood, or whoever he was here, tried to imagine what good he'd be in a fight without batarangs or any other gadgets, as he hadn't really mastered hoof-to-hoof combat yet. Maybe he had some other powers? Spike would tell him soon enough, he was sure. He opted to try the door in front of him first. In the next room, he saw two large, red-velvet chairs by an unlit fireplace and standing by the window, looking outward, a towering creature in a long, black coat. From what he could tell by looking at the horns jutting from somewhere around where he guessed it's head was, it wasn't a pony.

"At last," it said in a deep, masculine voice as lightning flashed outside. It turned to face him, a blue minotaur in clothing not unlike his own apart from the long, relatively shiny coat, some kind of head-set microphone, and a pair of completely unnecessary sunglasses. He smiled. "Welcome. As you no-doubt have guessed, I am Morphitaur."

The unicorn blinked once, guessing this was the villain of the piece. "Erm... Nice to meet you?" As with the Underdog, diplomacy was looking better by the minute.

Morphitaur raised an eyebrow. Wait a minute, where's Sabbath? She's supposed to be the one that brings him here. I'm in the Haytrix, right? Iron Will practically grew up on this story, it's principles the root of how he came to craft his work-shouts, so getting to live the experience was a dream come true! Only, something was off... Oh, well, play through. If something looks wrong, you keep going strong! He gestured to the chairs. "Please, come, sit."

Blueblood complied, if only to stall for time. "So," he inquired as they were seated, "what exactly is..." he gestured to their surroundings with a hoof, "all this?"

Morphitaur smiled. "I'm glad you asked. The world you know is not the world we live in. Secrets are kept, lies are told, and those who would see the truth shared are hunted down without mercy. You, Onyp, are in-"

"I'm sorry, what?"

There was a pause as lightning flashed outside again. "Onyp. That's you."

"I, uh-" Oh, this character's name is Onyp! Alright then, making progress. "right, right, please proceed."

He cleared his throat and began again. "You, Onyp, are in grave danger. But I can help." He reached his hands into his coat, drawing them out again as fists, each settling atop a different armrest of the chair. He opened one hand, revealing a small, red capsule. "Red will show you what is true," and a blue one on the other, "but the way out now lies in the blue."

As he maintained that pose, Blu-Onyp guessed he was intended to pick one. The truth or the way out? Pretty sure I can just read the comic later if I want the backstory. He reached for the blue pill, only for Morphitaur to yank that hand away.

"Red will show you what is true," he repeated.

"That's nice. Can I get that blue pill, please?"

He was answered only with a baffled stare.

"You said blue was the way out, right? That's what I'm after here."

Morphitaur nodded, as if to reaffirm the notion to himself just as much as Onyp. "The way out now lies in the blue, RED will show you what is true."

Onyp stood up, reaching for the blue pill. "I'll wait for the movie."

The minotaur stood, visibly annoyed. "The true path lies in the red pill."

"If there's only one option, why did you offer the blue one?"

"I, it's, you're supposed to-"

The communicator crackled to life without being touched. "I think you're supposed to take the red one, Blue."

"No, Operator," Morphitaur corrected the disembodied voice, "red!"

"That's what I said," retorted 'Operator' Spike, who didn't sound too sure. "...Wait, is this what Twilight meant by soo-dough science? Is he not NOT supposed to take the red pill?"

"I'm taking the blue one."

Morphitaur scowled. "No you're not!" Onyp's horn lit up, the pill floating out of Morphitaur's hand. "Hey!"

"Ha!" Onyp popped it into his mouth, smirking in satisfaction before being picked up by his barrel, Morphitaur violently squeezing him.

"Spit! That! Out!"

"No!"

"This is your destiny!"

"No it isn't!"

'Operator' sounded exasperated. "Blue, just take the red pill already!"

After a few minutes of struggle, Morphitaur eventually managed to stuff the red pill into Onyp's mouth, the world fading out around them when he swallowed it. The next thing he knew, they were standing in what looked like a dull, greyish lobby to a Manehattan office building, linoleum tiles on every surface that wasn't glass. Also new was a black trenchcoat similar to Morphitaur's, as well as a pair of equally unnecessary sunglasses. "How did we get here? And why am I dressed like this?"

Morphitaur crossed his brawny arms. "You made your decision, little man."

Onyp pointed an accusatory hoof. "THAT, is a load of bull, and you know it!"

He flexed in response, muscles bulging even under his coat. "Why, thank you!"

Facehoof. "Right, so what do we do now?"

"Now," he said while throwing off his coat, "we must battle."

Onyp took several steps back from the hulking bull-creature. "Ohhh, no, no, no. Can I just have that blue pill and-"

"Not you and I, the two of us and the enemy."

"Enemy?"

He nodded solemnly, crossing his arms again. "Long ago, this world was struck by an object from beyond the stars. The plants of the world were infused with it's power, unbeknownst to the hooved populations of the world. Most plants were made into hay, which was eaten and infused those who consumed it with power to defy reality itself. But with power, came war. No one knows who struck first, or why, only that someone established control, a system. Now, that control must be broken, the system undone."
He gave Onyp a pointed look. "It is believed that the power granted by the Hay has simply diminished, that no one can wield it anymore. The truth, is that the ones in control kept it secret so no one would use the power against them. Those who know, however, may harness this power for use, The Pony of legend being the most in-tune with it of anyone."

"That was quite an exposition dump," muttered Onyp, "but what does that have to do with-"

"Those in control are all long dead, but their tools, their agents, remain active, enforcing their will, their system, upon an ignorant population. These agents, and those in their control, are our enemy."

"Ah. Alright, so where are these-"

Before he could finish the question, there was a ding noise on the far side of the room, metallic elevator doors sliding open to reveal a short list of hooved beings in police uniforms. Zebras, antelope, rams, and pigs, about a dozen of them in all, and they looked very cross, approaching the duo.

Morphitaur punched one massive fist into his other hand. "The time has come."

"Right," said Onyp, taking a step backward, "I'll just let you handle this, then."

"You seek a demonstration? Very well." Iron Will let the bluepills approach, his excitement barely contained in an arms-crossed pose. This was it. Attack the day.

They came closer, nightsticks drawn and ready to bear down on any who didn't comply with the machine. Two pigs charged, weapons swung in unison overhead strikes. Morhpitaur grabbed both in his hands. "You swing your tools, I'll swing with you!" He lifted both nightsticks and the pigs holding them, quickly spinning about as his opponents squealed in alarm before both were hammer-tossed in the direction of the rest, slamming into an antelope and another pig.

A ram and two zebra bounded toward him, the ram charging with it's head down, only to be met with Morphitaur's own horns, which sent him hurdling backward. The zebra attackers stepped to each side, both ducking Morphitaur's double-clothesline before directing a kick at his ribs. "Someone tries to dodge," their hooves were caught by a flurry of high-speed punches, along with the rest of them, "you unleash a barrage!"

As the two zebra crumpled to the floor, Onyp stood back, watching in awe as Morphitaur took down the rest of the group by himself with frightening speed, strength, and appropriately-worded rhymes. Is this what he meant, the power of the Hay? Is that how the super powers work in this world? I'm not sure an ordinary minotaur would have pulled this off without a scratch without some kind of assistance.

Dusting off his hands when the melee was finished, Morphitaur smiled a little as he approached Onyp. "Now do you see? All that I have done, you can do and better, for you are The Pony."

"Is, uh, i-is it really as simple as 'say short poem, commit spectacular acts of violence'?"

He chuckled. "The key, is simply to know, to believe you can do what you know you can do. Where The System dictates what can and can't be done, we impose our own ideas, our own rules, our own reality, through force of will." He struck a series of poses and pantomimes vaguely indicative of what he was saying. "You come to a gap, you jump in a snap! The jump is too tall, you run up the wall! Free your mind and leave fear behind!"

As Onyp was internalizing this, the elevators ding'd again, a team of cows in full riot armor with shields and batons stepping out to join them.

"Now," Morphitaur said, "show me what you have learned, and show them the power of the Hay."

Morphitaur and the cows charged one another, Onyp, who sympathized with Ditzy Doo at that moment, running along to join in a few seconds later. Well, now or never! Running to the closest enemy, Onyp stood on his hind legs, drew back a forehoof, screamed at the top of his lungs, and sent a punch at the cow's helmet. The cow staggered back, simultaneous feelings of triumph and apology whirring in Onyp's head before he was knocked down by four other cows and kicked repeatedly.

Before Onyp could form a thought more sophisticated than 'ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,' the SWAT cows were pounded into the floor by a single, muscular arm. Morphitaur offered a hand to help him up. "They kick while you're down, you show them the ground." In a lot less pain than he thought he'd be, Onyp nodded dizzily, feeling less guilt about hurting these guys now. Come to think of it, none of them are even real, are they? Just the minotaur and I here.

The cows regrouped, forming a circle around the pair in black as they stood back-to-back. Both charged outward, a cow's baton moving in an arc destined for Onyp's skull if he did nothing. "You swing your tools," he uttered under his breath, "I swing with you!" In a blink, he grabbed the hoof holding the baton, turned away, pulled the cow over his shoulder, and slammed him on the ground. It happened almost the instant he thought about doing it, the flow so natural it was as if he'd done it a hundred times. Turning to face the others, Onyp grinned. He could do this.

He side-stepped the blows of more batons that were aimed at his head. "You aim for the face," he whispered, hoping making up his own rhymes didn't detract from the magic, "I'll show you your place!" Rolling to the left and facing away from the cows, he extended both hind legs to buck them away, neither getting up again when he did. More cows circled him, raising their shields and closing in.

"They box you in," bellowed Morphitaur from several meters away, "you take the win!" If there was more to that one, it was drowned out by the sounds of riot gear being introduced to the columns and far walls with considerable force.

Trying his best to ignore the voice in his head telling him that attacking a shield was generally a bad idea, Onyp glanced at the cow behind him and bucked with all his might, toppling the cow, shield and all. While brute force proved to be more effective than he'd have given it credit for against a force of brutes, that attack did nothing to stop the other three at his front and sides, who moved in to bash him with their shields. Unable to move fast enough, Onyp was battered back and forth like the least popular foal in the bumper-car rink.

Meanwhile, Morphitaur took down every cow that came at him with one punch, until one of them rammed his fist with a shield. Morphitaur stopped, his knuckles pressed against the dented metal of the black shield. "Someone tries to block," he said, looking down at the cow, wild eyes visible over his shades before he shouted with animalistic fury, "SHOW THEM THAT YOU ROOOOOOCK!!" He threw the force of his whole body into the shield, picking up the cow and running with him, picking up more as he charged around the room and slammed into every cow that still stood before smashing all of them into a column, knocking it down with a thunderous crash.

Again, Onyp got up, feeling a lot less pain than expected as he looked around, a niggling thought resurfacing in his mind. "Operator, shouldn't Miss Doo have shown up by now?" There was no response. "Operator? Spike? Are you there?"

ding!

"For pity's sake, what now?" He turned to the elevators, finding not another team of well-armored police, but three hooved beings in dark-green business suits and very rectangular sunglasses. Specifically, an elk flanked by a camel and a goat. The three of them stepped out, no sign of hostility in their faces or body language as they approached, their movement stiff, almost mechanical.

"Agents," Morphitaur said as he stood next to Onyp, arms crossed. "they are the ones you are here to face. The only one who can stand against an agent, is The Pony."

The three of them didn't really look like combatants, but as Onyp was contemplating just how 'battle-worthy' Super Mare looked with her bright red cape and messy mane, a thought occurred to him. Wait, I know these types! They're exactly the sort who run the filing in Canterlot, fastidious businessfolk that live to make sure everything is in it's proper place. He had handled many ponies like these, he knew how they thought, and he knew how to deal with them. Onyp smiled confidently, stepping forward. "Good afternoon, gentlemen, what can we do for you?"

"Mister Andercolt," began the elk, his voice a slow monotone, occasionally emphasizing certain syllables, "my associates and I have reason to believe you have been, misled."

Guessing that 'Onyp' was as much this character's name as 'Batmane' had been his, Blueblood kept the perfect, practiced business tone he'd used for years working in the palace. "I'm afraid you have me at something of a disadvantage, Mister...?"

"Stone. Agent, Stone. The bull-man behind you is a criminal, a terrorist... common scum. We would see to it that you are acquitted of all charges relating to the, assistance, of this creature, this disease, this-" the word was dragged out into a low hiss, as the elk shook his head in disgust, "plague that taints our fair city."

He turned to look at Morphitaur, who stood stoically with arms crossed. "I have shown you the truth, Onyp, seen you feel it within yourself. Now you must choose, who is telling the truth? What is real? What is not real?"

He was on his own. Not that it was hard. Redirecting his attention to the three in suits, 'Andercolt' opted to pose a simple question. "Mr. Morphitaur here has informed me that by channeling a near-forgotten sort of power, I and every other sapient life-form on earth are capable of incredible things. I have witnessed this magic first-hoof, and have no reason to doubt the validity of his claims. What say you to that, gentlemen?"

"There is no such thing," the camel spoke in slightly plainer monotone, "as magic, Mr. Andercolt. What you have witnessed is an illusion wrought of chemical augmentation."

"You were likely fed some manner of supplement," continued Stone, "some, vile concoction, perhaps a pill, to make you percieve the world the way he wishes you to. We would free you of this madness if you would come with us."

That actually makes a little sense, if not for one thing. "Well," Onyp conceded, "I suppose it's possible I that the feats I witnessed today were drug-addled fabrications, but what do you call-" his horn lit up, casually lifting a nearby shield (the officer that came with it wasn't using it anymore) in it's arctic-blue glow, "-this?"

The agents were silent for an audible second, Stone speaking for the three of them. "Whatever it is you believe you are currently demonstrating, I assure you that it is another bi-product of a madman's twisted malevolence. There is no such thing, as magic."

"Yes there is."

Another short silence. "No there is not."

Blueblood felt his patience slipping. "Yes, there is, I'm using it right now. See the shield? The one I'm floating with a telekinesis spell?" He shook it in the air for emphasis. "Right in front of you? Right now?"

"There is no such thing as magic," the goat agent repeated.

"I'd say it's as real as anything else right about now."

"'Real' is but a word," said the camel, "a concept of that which is perceived to be-" He was cut off by the shield being gently pressed against the side of his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," picked up Onyp with a hint of smugness, "did I break your concentration? With my imaginary floating shield? I hate to break it to you, but you really don't have much of a case h-" He was cut off by all three agents glancing at eachother, raising their right forelegs, and firing at him with wrist-mounted blasters. "-EEEK!" He moved before he knew what was happening, lasers Zap-Zaping by and missing him by only millimeters, lightly singeing a line along one of his legs. Losing balance in response to the pain, Onyp fell to his knees, his brain running a mile a minute trying to think of a plan. Strangely, it was like the rest of the world was slowed down, just slightly, enough to be noticeable.

Then it sped up again as the agents, their blasters trained on him, ducked and dove out of the way of a large chunk of what used to be part of the architecture sailed in their direction. He glanced back in the direction the concrete and steel came from, Morphitaur nodding to him that it was time. Probably, it was a vague kind of nod.

Stone, on his hooves so quickly it was as if he hadn't even moved, looked directly at Onyp. "Kill them both."

Blasters raised, Onyp could only think to stall for time. He ran, building panic dictating that he not take his eyes off the agents, who were walking closer as they fired to get a better shot. Again, time seemed to slow down, the laser blasts sizzling past his head as he ran, dodge-rolling out of the way of another volley of shots and behind a column. Glancing about, he could tell by the bouts of fire bellowing just on the side of the column that they were still shooting at him and that Morphitaur seemed to be taking cover as well. This wouldn't work, they had to get closer! But if he just ran out, he'd surely be riddled with holes in seconds, he'd have to do something they didn't expect.

Jump is too tall, run up the wall.

Galloping as fast as he could, he moved behind the row of columns and placed his hooves on the far wall, praying for a nanosecond that it would work like he thought it would before finding himself running, vertically, along the wall! He'd have been amazed if not for the lasers not blocked by columns burning into the wall near his hooves. At the right moment, he jumped off with considerable force, slamming into the goat agent just as he was training the blaster on him.
Jumping to his hooves, Onyp raised and stomped one to punch the goat in the face, but his neck bent his head out of the way at impossible speed. They try to dodge, you- Before he could remember the whole rhyme, he was catapulted away by kick from the downed agent. Rolling to a stop several meters away, Onyp coughed twice, not sure if a rib was broken.

He heard Morphitaur. "Get up! The Pony is the only one who stands a chance against an agent!"

"Are you QUITE certain?!"

Before an answer came, he saw the goat and the camel taking aim at him and leapt to his hooves to move out of the way. Ducking behind a column again, a thought occurred. Wait a tic, where's the last agen- At the sound of an aggressive grunt from behind him, Onyp all but cartwheeled (somehow) away from the spot he'd been standing, Stone's hoof tearing through the column.

Close enough for hoof-fighting, he skipped straight to the barrage this time, swinging and stabbing his hooves at the elk and the area around him only for every punch to be dodged anyway before Stone delivered one of his own to Onyp's solar plexus, rocketing him backward and cracking another column. Struggling to breathe, Onyp staggered to his hooves as Stone approached with the same passive walk with which he'd exited the elevator. At that moment, (which might have been slowed down, he couldn't really tell) two more thoughts occurred.

1. He was clearly not The Pony, Ditzy Doo was. She must have been, she was the vastly more powerful character in Maretropolis, so it fit in terms of consistency, he just had to keep the agents busy until Spike could patch her through. Somehow.

2. The columns, the elevator, Stone's monstrous strength, and the other agents' trigger-happiness could all work to his advantage.

Smirking, he dodge-rolled away from Stone, out into the open. He kept moving, feeling a little like the world's most balletic adrenaline junkie as he dove and spun just out of the way of the lasers in the direction he'd heard Morphitaur's voice. It was oddly easier now that he knew he could do it. Ducking behind the right column, he was pleased to find his only back-up so far in one piece. "Hey, I'm going to draw their fire, think you can knock down another column or two on the way to the elevator?"

Morphitaur grinned down at him, adjusting his sunglasses. "Leave it to me, little man."

Nodding once, Onyp again somersaulted out where he could be seen. "Hey! Those are the shabbiest suits I've ever seen, did you get them from a diamond dog?" It was hard to say whether or not his taunt aggravated them at all, because they were shooting at him just as much as before; a lot. Still, he did need to make sure he kept them attacking, as dangerous as that sounded. Stone in particular, he forced himself to stay close to. "Hey, you know what they say about you guys in the other departments?" Duck, roll, twirl. "Nothing, you're so boring everyone forgets you exist the moment you leave the room!" Spin, side-step, jump. "That's why you have those stupid spectacles, even your sunglasses are square!"

They weren't the best insults he'd ever come up with, but as Stone kept punching with all his terrifying might, they'd have to do. In the tumult of the blaster fire burning through walls and columns with each shot fired, the sound of a few more columns being knocked over barely registered in anyone's awareness, Onyp slowly dodging his way toward the elevator.

"There's nowhere to run, Mister Andercolt," uttered Stone, who wasn't even visibly fatigued in the slightest as he pursued, "anywhere you go, we can follow."

It was a good thing he wasn't Batmane right now, or he wouldn't be allowed to say this. "Oh, it's not where I'm going," he said as be backed into the elevator Morphitaur was waiting in. He pointed a hoof upwards, smiling, "tell me, is that ceiling 'real'?"

All three agents looked up to see the roof, deprived of the structural integrity once offered by many pristine, undamaged, quite architecturally necessary columns, cracked and crumbled. The elevator door shut, the sound of tons of steel and concrete coming down barely muffled by the thick metal.

As they stood listening to elevator music, Onyp's thoughts caught up with him. ...WHAT did I just do?! Any one of those lasers could have ended me, nevermind the roof caving in, that was completely insane! He glanced to Morphitaur, who thankfully wasn't badly injured either. "What were you doing back there, anyway? I didn't see you fighting the agents."

He chuckled. "I told you, only The Pony can stand against an agent, so I sat back to watch. It was pretty cool."

Blueblood nearly bit his tongue off in rage. "THAT, IS BULLS-"

Each of them vanished in white light.

Back in the beanbag chair, Prince Blueblood decided against swearing incoherantly into his communicator. Spike was just a baby dragon and the minotaur probably wouldn't hear it anyway. Still, he activated it with more than a hint of irritation. "What happened in there?"

"Blue? You're alive!" Joy became anger. "What's the big idea, cutting the signal?! I couldn't reach you at all!"

"Rest assured," he replied through gritted teeth, "it wasn't my idea to go in blind."

"Huh? Oh, I guess that means..." His voice got quieter, as though he wasn't speaking directly into the communicator. "Hey, I guess you were right, Twilight, something got in the way of the spell matrix."

"I thought as much, but it should be all fixed now."

"What's going on over there? What happened?"

"Twilight can probably explain it better than I can. Here you go, Twi."

"Thank you. Ahem, hello there! Twilight to Blueblood, Twilight to Blueblood, do you read? Mayday? Over?"

"The radio jargon is unnecessary, but yes, I hear you."

"Really? Sorry, I haven't had a chance to re-read Roger Wilco's 101 Things You Need to Know About Using Radios recently. Apparently somepony in town is building their own radio station and they needed the help. Anyway, there was some kind of interference in the spells that that enable the communicators to work, something from inside the comic world, it looked like."

"What?"

"Yes, that was what I said. It's possible whatever disrupted the magic linking the devices got to Ditzy's as well, but I'm not sure right now."

"Speaking of whom, where was Miss Doo? She never appeared with us."

"Us? Did somepony else show up?"

"A blue minotaur, I need to have him banished later or something, but that's not really important right now. Where was Miss Doo? Having her around might have made things considerably easier."

"Blue minotaur? Hm... I don't really know Ditzy that well, but I'll look into it and let Spike know." Twilight giggled. "If we can't find her, you might try Fluttershy!"

"Oh?"

"Ahh, th-that was a joke. Please don't drag ponies into the comic world, I know what it's like in there."

"You're in the MCTF as well?"

"What? No, I just... Huh? Oh, okay, I'll be right there! Sorry, I gotta go, but we'll get back to you, okay? Stay safe, Blueblood!"

beep!

Author's Notes:

That's right, I'm extending things beyond just superheroes! That doesn't mean I'm forgetting about the world of tights and wacky crimes, (still too much to play with there!) but that it won't always be the setting.

As we learned in Putting Your Hoof Down, not all of Iron Will's advice is sensible or nice, and before taking it in, you'd be smart to think twice.