At this point, I wouldn’t blame you for assuming I’d forgotten about the stranger. Being thrust into a brand-new reality has that effect on ponies. However, everything about this new timeline had the stranger’s hoofprints on it, so it wasn’t as if he would be ignored for long.

In fact, I had learned that there was an event held each week, called “Christian Love Day”, in which all citizens of CWCville would be required to attend, and watch a video message recorded by their Great Director. (While the repercussions of exposing a cutie mark are apparently severe, those who don’t show up are merely fined. I deduced that the stranger had absolutely no idea how to govern, but then again, I had deduced that long ago.)

“Listen,” Spike told me, “if we don’t go, they might get suspicious.”

“Do any of the members of PVCC attend?”

At this, Shining Armor nodded. “Occasionally, and only to throw off suspicions. We ARE an underground group, after all.”

So it was with this logic that we attended the Christian Love Day ceremony. Apparently, it was being held inside an auditorium in the mall (a fact I found very strange), and all attendees were to wear pure white robes. It all felt unnervingly cultic—like those rumors I’d been hearing of a Discord-worshiping sect in my timeline. One devil in that timeline, another one here.

I have to admit though, the robes made it easier to blend in. The Troll Busters guarding the place were great in number and likely had warrants for both my and the Doctor’s arrest. For some reason, Fluttershy hadn’t shown up, which caused me to worry a little. Spike told me it was rare for her to even leave her cottage, so it wouldn’t be unusual for her not to attend. (One imagines the number of fines she’d already been slapped with.)

As the ceremony began, multiple cups were passed around. I assumed it was some kind of religious communion (A religion based on the Mayor would likely be an unfulfilling spiritual experience, to say the least). However, instead of fancy chalices or shiny goblets, what were passed around were soda cups. I suppose the government-enforced CWCville religion was a little low in tithe money.

I have mentioned numerous times the hideous architecture of CWCville, and it should go without saying that every object produced in CWCville is equally atrocious. Not only were the robes of poor quality, they were ill-fitting, and the soda cups were of an equally awkward design. I use telekinesis to lift and move objects, so I can’t imagine how unwieldy it must have been for the Earth ponies, pegasi, and baby dragon in the sitting audience.

Perhaps the silliest part of the soda cup was its big red straw. It was more of a pipe or a bugle than a straw, really—I could have probably fit my head through it. (In fact, I found it so amusing, I kept it. It’s in the supplementary material that accompanies this report. Feel free to use it as a megaphone or something.)

I still can’t stomach the memory of the soda’s taste. Although all in attendance were demanded to drink of it “for it contains the flesh of our Great Director”, I can safely say that, from the way it tasted, it likely DID feature some element of the Mayor. It was disgusting—I looked around to see if anypony, cultist or Troll Buster, were watching, turned my head and spat it back into the cup.

After communion had finished, the lights dimmed, a thumping rock ballad began to play, and a stage light turned on, revealing a very tall character. He withdrew his white hood, and I saw that it was Iron Will—the very same Iron Will who had once tried to teach Fluttershy to be more assertive. I found it ironic that while he was a motivational speaker in our timeline, he was using his talents here as a total crony to the Mayor.

“Who is here to bring honor to our Great Director?!” he shouted, pumping his arms for emphasis.

“We are!” the crowd shouted back.

“For who is it who has filled our lives with so much Truth and Honesty?!”

Chants of “CHRIS! CHAN! CHRIS! CHAN!” built up in the crowd. I became more and more uneasy at the sight of this devotion. How had he managed to build up this much admiration from the very ponies he took advantage of and enslaved? I shuddered at the thought. Looking to my fellow subversives, I noted the look of worry written on the Doctor’s face. Spike seemed dismissive of this whole thing—as if he had only attended out of obligation (which was true).

Iron Will continued his speech, working the crowd into a screaming frenzy—his usual bravado and showmanship eclipsing even the Great and Powerful Trixie. (I actually was curious as to what happened to her in this timeline, but if it was like anything else I’d seen so far, I’d rather not find out.)

“In the next hour, you will witness the largest personal change in Pony-kind!” he belted. The audience roared in applause. “Pony-kind,” he said, more solemnly. “That word should have new meaning for all of us today.”

A large TV set above the stage turned on, showering the audience in its white light. A still image of a war being fought was put onscreen.

“We cannot be consumed by our petty differences anymore!”

The audience cheered again. The still image changed, showing the audience a photo of a unicorn, an Earth pony, and a Pegasus all “bro-hoofing”.

“We will be united in our common interests!”

I had begun to feel a little strange, for at that moment, I felt like I wanted to join this crowd in their cheering. Being together, joining together… these weren’t bad messages. Nopony was really getting hurt…

I shook my head, startled by the thoughts that were creeping into my mind. The Mayor had me and my friends killed, for crying out loud! Why would I want to embrace a religion that WORSHIPED him?! Iron Will was a very convincing speaker, but I felt there was something stranger at work here.

Looking around, I saw that none of the PVCC members were present. “Doctor,” I whispered, “did you see where everypony went?”

“They’re getting ready for the attack,” he told me.

“What? Why didn’t they tell me?”

“We’re trying to remain in disguise. You and I are the ones who have to get to the Mayor.”

I blinked. “But the Mayor’s in his fortress.”

“This IS his fortress,” he replied.

“This can’t be his fortress,” I argued, “this is a shopping mall.” I paused for a moment, and, realizing the full extent of the Mayor’s stupidity, I felt like putting my head through that big red straw and screaming as loud as I could. The Doctor patted my head affectionately as he saw the frustration building in my face.

A mall. A mall was his fortress. He fortified himself in a place of business. Where there would be so many ponies coming and going every day, that I was surprised an invasion hadn’t already happened. I groaned. Having such an open fortress defeated the purpose of it being a fortress to begin with!

However, I’d learned to keep my opinion to myself (If that’s anything CWCville teaches its residents, it’s how to not argue with self-evident failure). I merely sat through the rest of Iron Will’s opening presentation, his booming voice praising the Mayor. It was depressing to watch: from helping the meek stand up for themselves in my timeline, to endorsing submission in this one.

Finally, his presentation ended, and on the screen was none other than the Mayor himself. I gasped at first, and pulled my hood lower, in case he was getting a good look at his congregation. Many applauded, their hooves stomping wildly as their cheers echoed throughout the auditorium. Looking back up, I could get a better view of the Mayor—and was surprised by what I saw.

He was an alicorn now. An alicorn! How badly had he rewritten time so that he would be born an alicorn, or transmogrified into one? On the one hoof, I was shocked by his new form… and then on the other hoof, I had to keep myself from openly laughing at it.

He was still scummy, fat, and greasy, and still wore his ridiculous shirts (I suppose it could have been worse, considering his cross-dressing adventures). His wings, unlike yours, were tiny and cumbersome-looking—even though he now possessed wings, it would take quite some doing until he possessed flight. He still lacked his cutie mark. But what made me snicker was the sight of his horn.

Good grief, his horn. It was… well, it was bent. At a weird, forty-five degree angle. It looked more like a big boomerang had been lodged in his head. When he turned his head occasionally during his speech, it would wobble, which… well, considering male unicorn anatomy, means something very, very, VERY wrong is going on, and I think you and I both know what it is. (Since I’ve never seen a male alicorn before, I’m actually curious if the same idea with male unicorns holds true. Please write me back on this matter, later.)

The room he was in was, like his shabby apartment, filled with toys—except here, he had all the money he could ever want, and of course had access to all the toys he could ask for. The lighting was a tad dark, so I could only make out the toys and some furniture.

“Captain’s Log,” opened the Mayor as the cheering began to quiet. “Stardate, Christian Love Day.” He began the video calmly, talking about recent events and his opinions on them. This was more of an address to his people, I discovered; but the presentation was so overblown and over the top, it might as well have been a rock concert.

As he reached a specific piece of news, his attitude became sour. “It has come to mah atten-shin dat summa-you dang, dirty shrolls have busted inna CWCville prison,” he said, his voice growing in agitation. “You-you busted in an released da prisoner bein’ held dere. Dat slow-inna-mind troll, Derpy Hooves.”

He then began to lose his cool even more, as the audience booed—I’m guessing at the dang, dirty trolls. “YOU BUSTED INNA MY PRISON, AN YOU—AN YOU RELEASE MY PRIZ-NER! ANNOW MAGNEIGHTO DUNT WORK WIT ME ANYMORE! I LOSS MY BEST GENRULL I made from the ground-up ANNIT’S ALL YER FAULT!”

I donned a bemused expression as he continued his childish rage. “An y’all know th’ first ting he did when he quit? Dat dang homo went and—” (here, he began to stomp his hooves like an angry child, which caused his camera to shake)—“BLEW UP MY PRISON! HE BLEW IT UP TA SMIDDEREENS!”

The crowd began to boo more. I would have, too, if I’d lived there—that would be more tax bits put into its reconstruction. I understood how Magneighto must have felt with Derpy being kept where he couldn’t reach her, but such an act painted him in a less-sympathetic light. Derpy must have meant the world to him, though, if he felt he needed to go that far as an act of revenge.

“Whuss worse, dere’s dis—dere’s dis new fella in town. Maybe y’all hearda him. He’s called ‘Spider-Colt’. An he’s—he’s started putting up some dang rumors ‘bout me.”

Was this all he was going to do, I wondered. Whine for hours at a captivated audience? They likely already knew about their town’s prison being blown up, since it happened late yesterday. Everything else he talked about seemed irrelevant. I didn’t care that some colt in a spider-themed costume had taken pictures of him wearing diapers (Hardly anything about the Mayor surprised me anymore).

Suddenly, he got to a point in his monologue that honestly made me shudder. He told his audience what would happen if he personally met any of his trolls, and picked up a clown doll. I noticed he wasn’t able to use his telekinesis to lift it, likely one of the side-effects of his floppy horn.

“An’ dis is what I’ll do to em! Juss like I did wit dat stupid Troll-Doctor!”

The acts he pantomimed with the clown doll were not pleasant to watch. I could describe what he did, but I feel uncomfortable even trying to remember it exactly. The cheering of the crowd made the whole situation dip from surreal to terrifying.

I looked to the Doctor, whose face had lost color. He looked at me, sweat beading his face. “I might be able to regenerate,” he told me, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel pain…” My eyes went back to the screen, where the Mayor was finishing off the doll.

After that grotesque display of his lack of decency or self-control, the Mayor began to breathe heavily, his energy spent (or rather, wasted) on his little tantrum. He looked at the screen with that creepy stare of his, and for that moment, it felt more like he was staring directly at me. The abyss, again staring back. The crowd began cheering again.

“An… An dat’s how I’m gonna take care-a you trolls. An anudder ting…”

I groaned. He got his point across, what more could he want to say? My eyes went elsewhere, wanting to look at something, ANYthing, that was neither the Mayor nor a clown doll. I saw, only a few feet away from me, Big Macintosh walking through the crowd, fully decorated in his sci-fi armor, accompanied by some of his subordinates. I squeaked, pulled my hood down lower, and turned away.

“Doctor, Spike,” I whispered, “we have a problem.”

They both spotted Big Macintosh pretty quickly. “Okay,” the Doctor whispered, “remain calm. He hasn’t seen us yet, and with our hoods on, we look just like everypony else. Just stay quiet and try to blend in.”

What the Doctor hadn’t taken into account was that Spike was a baby dragon—a very different shape from ponies. What was more, Big Macintosh could already tell Spike was there. He and his goons were making their way over already.

I began to panic. What could I do? If Big Macintosh caught us, that was it—finito! Finished!

I felt that I should probably turn us all invisible so we could slip out quietly. But Big Macintosh still had his eyes on us, and the moment we vanished, he’d know automatically we were there, and could easily call for backup. Furthermore, there were more Troll Busters at every corner in the auditorium, four by nearly every door. I then remembered that even if I wanted to use the Invisibility spell, the anti-magic field around the fortress was still up. There was no way to escape.

Attending this was a terrible idea. Why had I agreed to this? The Doctor and the PVCC had told us it would be OK, then the PVCC abandoned us right in the middle of the seminar.

Then it hit me. The attack was going down soon. We needed to get deeper into the fortress… But what about the innocent ponies attending? Were they really going to attack it soon, with all these potential casualties? I felt so afraid and confused, that when Big Macintosh was right next to me I hadn’t noticed until he looked at me in the eyes.

“Well, well,” he whispered. “If it ain’t the Livin’ Dead Girl.” His voice was just as intimidating as last time—and now that he was over the shock of seeing somepony he thought was dead, I had no ace in the hole. He was a wolf who’d found a deer with broken legs.

The Doctor held onto me, whispering, “Don’t worry. Just be still.” My first reaction, naturally, was to yell at him, but I held my tongue. I trusted the Doctor; he had pulled me and my friends out of danger multiple times at this point, even when his advice sounded insane.

I trusted him. I had to.

Big Mac pressed a bizarrely-shaped yellow button that was on his breastplate. “Captain to Mayor, Captain to Mayor, Troll “Zombie Twilight Sparkle” located. Apprehending.”

The Mayor on the screen froze as Big Macintosh relayed his message. He smirked. “Well, well, it seems we found ourselves a troll.” His eyes seemed to scan the crowd—and his creepy stare found us, like a hellish searchlight. “Dere’s no escape, YOUNG LADY.”

The Troll Busters surrounded us as the crowd made way for them. Spike held onto me, the poor thing. “Twilight Sparkle, Doctor Whooves, you are both under arrest for obstructing the Mayor’s Love Quest.”

I stared at Big Macintosh, hoping on your white wings he meant that as a joke. Sadly, he apparently did not. The “Love Quest” the Mayor was on when he still just some stranger was laughable—the pranks, the goofy sign—but I kept forgetting how much power he had now.

The crowd began to murmur at the sight of this. “They bring the prickly-wicklies!” I heard one whisper. “They probably eat pickles,” said another. Grown ponies using such childish euphemisms would have been hilarious if this were any other situation.

“Don’t panic,” the Doctor whispered to me, holding me closer. “There’s a good reason we’re here.”

The Troll Busters brought out their restraints. I closed my eyes, ready for what might come next.

I felt a rumble, small at first, as the Troll Busters got us down to cuff us. I was thrust to the floor, knocking my soda to the ground, as the Troll-Buster placed the cuffs on my legs, and I felt the rumble again—bigger this time, closer. I looked over to the puddle of spilled soda, and as the rumbling grew louder and louder, the puddle visibly shivered and shook.

The rumbling had caused everypony in the auditorium to fall absolutely silent. The tension in the place tightened, twisting around everypony gradually like a turnscrew. Some backed away toward the exit. The Mayor on the screen didn’t seem to know what was going on.

“What’s wit’ da—whyzza—arrest dem arready!”

Suddenly, the wall burst, debris flung forward. The ponies began to panic and run for the exit as dust from the wall clouded the intruding force. Big Macintosh and his goons fled immediately, leaving me, the Doctor, and Spike tied up and laid out like sacrifices to a demonic entity.

I could hear the Mayor’s screechy voice rambling on about how this was all the trolls’ fault (Instead of, you know, asking everypony to stay calm and find an exit). As the dust began to settle, I looked into the face of something I hadn’t wanted to see.

An Ursa Minor had broken into the auditorium. Its massive frame filled with the nighttime sky and stars made it seem like an entire universe in ursine form, out on a rampage. It roared at the top of its lungs, the deafening sound causing even more panic.

“Was THIS what we were supposed to wait for?” I asked the Doctor incredulously.

He said nothing as the beast drew closer and closer to us, roaring at any Troll Busters that dared to attack it. I found it strange that it wasn’t attacking everything in sight as opposed to only those foolish enough to think they posed a challenge to it.

It reached us before we could do very much, and I held my breath and closed my eyes. In my heart, I apologized to my friends for having failed in my mission. This was the end of the line for my time-traveling adventures—an ending that would take place at the teeth of the Ursa Minor.

But of course, I’m not writing to you from the inside of its stomach, am I?

I felt the cuffs break and opened my eyes. Fluttershy looked down at me and smiled. “Am I late?” she asked.

Next Chapter: 17. SHIT GETS REAL Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 37 Minutes