For the past several days since I wrote the previous paragraph, I have been procrastinating, hesitant to continue this account. It is not that I am refusing to do my scholarly duty and continue explaining my findings, it is that what happens next is genuinely disturbing. However, at the insistence of my helpful editors Spike and Lyra and the Doctor, I must continue this account.

The evening light outside went from blazing orange to a burnt purple, casting everything inside the warzone-mall into a confusing slush pile of shadows. Every corner the Doctor and I rounded felt like something was going to jump out from behind it, every hall we ran down felt as if there were invisible eyes observing us… The mall had quickly become something of a temple of doom, where in every corner hid something unspeakable.

The sounds and smells of battle were inconsistent: they would feel farther away sometimes, but closer at other times. I have been in some very tense situations before, but being in the middle of a warzone in a hostile alternate dimension is easily the scariest.

By the time the Doctor and I had reached the parking lot, we had attracted the unwanted attention of several Troll Busters. Their plastic weapons firing at us from behind, we managed to hide behind a rather curious blue carriage.

I cursed. “We were so close!”

The Doctor tapped his hoof on the ground as another bullet bounced off the carriage. “We need a plan,” he said.

“I KNOW that!” I yelled impatiently. “What, you think we ducked down here to have sex?!”

Yes, I know. Extremely awkward. I imagine the Troll Busters were just as befuddled as the Doctor at my outburst; they stopped firing for a few seconds and I think I heard one of them laugh. The Doctor seemed to hide a smirk.

“Twilight, you’re a smart girl,” he told me, “but it’s become clear to me you haven’t been acting rationally lately. You need to think. You need to be allowed time to think.”

Bullets whizzed by. It seemed insulting that he would suggest I needed to stop and think while we were being shot at, but then I realized, he was right.

“I’ll try to distract them,” he said. Before I could protest, he immediately raced out from behind the carriage. “Look at me, I’m distracting you!” he shouted at the Busters. “Boogie boogie boogie!”

“Look! A distraction!” yelled one of the Troll Busters. “Shoot it before it boogies again!”

I began to worry, but I kept forgetting that the Doctor was able to foresee the future. He was able to tell when a round would be fired and where it would go, just like he did with Dr. Chuckles before, and danced about, effortlessly avoiding every shot.

But he couldn’t keep that up forever—he was only buying me time. I looked about in this parking lot, noticing that most of the carriages here seemed very heavy (although ugly and malformed like everything else). I peered out from behind my hiding place and saw the Troll Busters next to some particularly heavy-looking carriages.

I used my telekinesis to lift up as many of the carriages as I could and floated them over the Troll Busters. One looked up and screamed, which I took as my cue to drop the whole load. It fell like a giant cascade of metal, flattening the whole troupe with a loud crash.

I ran to the Doctor, who was catching his breath. “I knew those jazz dance lessons would come in handy someday,” he said. I managed a smile.

“Don’t get too comfy,” I told him. “We still have an entire fortress to run through.”

Suddenly, the loud sound of metal being thrown against the wall broke the quiet of the parking lot. We looked behind us to see Big Macintosh walking over his fallen comrades toward us. Nothing to say to us, just this look of wicked glee twisting his lip into a cruel smirk, causing his green eyes to pierce the both of us with his malice.

I tried using my telekinesis to throw more carriages at him, but he merely smacked them away as if they were bothersome flies. Neither of us felt like running—that would require turning our backs to him, which would not be a very good idea. Our minds were racing at that moment, trying to figure out a way to escape the incoming danger.

Big Macintosh stood before me now, only a few inches away. I could feel his hot and whiskey-stained breath stroking my face. He saw the fear in my eyes, the fear that paralyzed me, and he drank it in. Time seemed to stop at that moment, as it does for most times of peril, and once again did the abyss stare back at me, both its eyes green this time.

A flash of purple light snapped me out of my mental retreat. Big Macintosh was no longer towering over me. The Doctor pointed to my left, where Shining Armor had shoved him into a wall. I called my brother’s name.

With a smart, quick swing of his foreleg, Big Macintosh swept Shining Armor away. Shining Armor corrected his balance in time to kick off a pillar, landing gently on his feet as though he’d never been touched. The two shared a cold silence, their eyes burning holes into each other.

“So, you finally had the spine to come back?” asked Big Macintosh.

“You know I couldn’t leave my student to his own devices,” returned Shining Armor.

The two of them began to circle each other like rival predators. The Doctor whispered to me that we should probably leave—and while that was the best idea, that was my brother there, in that fight. I wanted to help him. The Doctor told me helping him wouldn’t be a good idea; Big Macintosh is unlike any other enemy we’d encountered so far.

“If you love your brother,” the Doctor whispered, “then you must trust him, and believe that he can win! Let him fight for you, to protect you. Like all good big brothers would do.”

I wanted to follow his advice, but…

… I hesitated.

“When last we met,” Big Macintosh said to Shining Armor, “you were the master and I the student. Now I am the master.”

Shining Armor sneered. “Master of what? You have no kingdom. The Mayor promises you nothing he intends to deliver.”

“You fought for goals you knew you couldn’t reach. I fight to keep what I still have.” Big Macintosh let out an insidious chuckle. “While you were my mentor, you were still an idealist. I was a realist.”

“A realist?” Shining Armor looked as though he could barely contain his rage. “We both fought under the Mayor, but for our families. Families he went out of his way to destroy! Why would you continue to fight under him, knowing this?”

Good question. I hadn’t considered it before, but what reason did Big Macintosh have to work for the Mayor? His sister was put to death just like… well, like Alterna-Me. I found my curiosity beginning to take hold, causing me to stay and watch, even as the Doctor tried to push me in the direction we needed to go.

Big Macintosh lost his cruel smile for a second. His scowl was far scarier. “Because unlike you, I still have mine. You have nothing.”

Shining Armor dashed at Big Macintosh like lightning; I could feel his anger as he bore down on Big Macintosh, a hurricane of kicks and shouts. Big Macintosh saw an opening, a pause in Shining Armor’s onslaught, and grabbed him. He threw him against a wall, where he pinned him with one hoof and brought the other hoof across his face. I gasped as I saw Shining Armor’s blood hit the floor.

“We have to go!” said the Doctor. “Now!”

“Your anger is your weakness,” Big Macintosh laughed as he brought down his hoof again and again. “Isn’t that what you always taught your students, Shiny?”

Suddenly, his hoof was caught in mid-air. He looked to it, seeing it covered in a purple glow.

“Leave my brother alone!” I shouted as I twisted his foreleg. The Doctor winced as he heard it snap, the bones and joints coming undone.

This distraction was what Shining Armor needed. He pushed Big Macintosh away, then jumped forward, bringing all Tartarus with him. It was difficult for my eyes to keep up with how fast his hooves were moving as he brought them to Big Macintosh’s face again and again.

Finally, Shining Armor threw Big Macintosh into a wall.

Big Macintosh stood back up as though Shining Armor’s blows were merely mosquito bites. He twisted his foreleg until the bones reconnected with a sickening crunch. “Why do you protect her?” he growled, pointing at me. “She isn’t Twilight Sparkle. You and I both know this.”

This statement gave Shining Armor pause.

Big Mac got back up. “She insults her memory just for looking like her. For sounding like her, for smelling like her. She’s an impostor, and I refuse to let her exist!” It was at this moment I realized why he seemed so hostile towards me: he was dating my counterpart here. I didn’t consider how deeply hurt he was by losing both his sister and his marefriend.

It drove him to madness. It was the only reason he would continue working with their killer: sheer, unrestrained madness.

Shining Armor shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. She might be from a different world, but she’s still Twilight Sparkle. She’s still my sister.” He steeled himself, ready for another round. “And I will fight to the death to protect her from you!”

Big Macintosh reared up. He laughed, his voice bouncing off the concrete around us, causing this garage to feel haunted. With that, the both of them rushed at each other.

Their battle raged on, as the Doctor and I managed to escape further into this dungeon. Behind me I could hear them cursing at each other, beating each other senseless. I tried to suppress the tears that flowed, I tried to remind myself that these two stallions weren’t my brother or Applejack’s brother. But at the same time, they were two stallions, previously best friends, fighting to the death...

At this point, I realized that alternate realities and the alternate versions of ponies one knows were simply too complicated and confusing for the average mind. My comprehension and perspective on reality was becoming more and more unhinged as this madness continued. It took all I had to keep myself together, from not worrying about the outcome of my brother’s battle, to focus on what I needed to do.

At the elevator, the Doctor sought the panel where we would put in the secret number sequence. I looked over the map again. “Should be somewhere around the elevator,” I said. “I don’t think it could be anyplace else.”

The Doctor slid his hoof around the elevator, around the walls next to it. “I’m not feeling anything,” he said. “No loose panels or invisible buttons or anything.” He turned to me. “Are you certain we’re at the right door?”

“I thought you could see the future. You tell me.”

He seemed taken aback by my statement. “My future-sight isn’t perfect,” he snidely responded, mimicking my voice. “Besides, you’re the one with the map. YOU tell ME.”

I didn’t feel like arguing. Before I could, however, there came a raspy voice from right next to me, making me jump. “It’s right next to you,” said the Mare-Do-Well.

She walked next to the elevator, put out her hoof, and finding the proper spot, she gave it two good taps. A small panel flipped around to reveal a keypad. We looked at her in confusion. She pointed to her eyes. “Detective mode,” she replied.

I put in the password and the elevator opened. I looked to the Mare-Do-Well. “Listen,” I said, “Thanks for helping us, but… You might want to head back now.”

There was a pause between us. The silence intensified as I looked into those glass eyes of hers, trying to read her emotions. Even though her face was a shadow, I could tell there was a lot of hatred within her, a lot of anger and resentment. Was it focused on me? Or was it just hatred for hatred’s sake?

“No,” she said. “I’m coming.”

“No you’re not.”

She turned to look at the Doctor. From her reaction, it was as if she had never been told “No” before. “What do you mean?”

The Doctor kept his composure. “You always try to intimidate others into swaying to your side. You’re unstable and you’re unreliable. Even with your skills and gadgets, I don’t think we can depend on you to do what’s right.”

I could feel her anger rise and took a step back. “What gives you the right to say that to me?” she demanded.

“Don’t you get it?” he told her. “You only got where you are with the PVCC because you intimidated them. They were afraid to make you their enemy. You’re a bully. You think you may be on the right side, but your methods make you a bigger villain than—”

“Stop.”

“No. You need to hear this.”

“Stop!”

“Your methods contradict your goal so thoroughly, that you’re a hypocrite. You don’t want a world that has peace, you want a world where the Mayor isn’t around. You depose him now, without bothering to look for that secret he’s hiding, somepony even worse than he is will take his place.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“How do you think you know me so well?” she asked.

“I’m a Time Lord. I can see your past, and your future. I know exactly what it is you want to do in this mission, and I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

I looked around. We were wasting time. I could feel eyes starting to look at us, observe us from afar. We needed to cut this confrontation short. I jumped in.

“Bon-Bon,” I said, “for reasons that are too complicated to explain, we need you to stay away from the Mayor. This is important!”

“Hurm. You don’t understand,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” I admitted. “But I don’t think you do, either.” Again, a pause. “You trust the Doctor, right?”

“Not this one,” she said. In a flash of darkness, she shoved the Doctor into the elevator as it opened and jumped in after him. She threw a small, round object out behind her as I tried to follow them. It exploded in a flash of bright light and earsplitting noise, causing me to become severely disoriented.

As the strange effects of the flash-bomb wore off, I leapt at the door—but it was too late. I pounded on the door. “Let me in!” I cried. I put my ear to the door. Mumbling, muffling. A thud. A cry.

A stream of indignant curses flew from my mouth as I pounded some more, crying the Doctor’s name. I backed off, preparing to send a Missile Strike spell at the door. As I backed off, my rump collided with something behind me. I looked behind me to see Big Macintosh.

“Hello again,” he greeted. Before I could do anything else, he back-hoofed me into the wall. As I collided with it, he moved like lightning across the floor, pinning my shoulder to the wall. He leaned in close enough that I could smell his rancid breath.

His features were bloated with bruises, and he was bleeding from his mouth and nose profusely. His green eyes, perhaps because they kept his intelligence but lacked his kindness, were blazing with homicidal intent. He looked like a desperate wild animal that had finally found a meal after a long period of starvation.

“Gonna try some magic tricks on ole’ Big Mac, huh, Living Dead Girl?” he taunted. He brought up his right hoof and threw it against the wall next to my head, crushing it like cardboard. He removed it to reveal the deep indention his hoof had left. “Let’s hear you say ‘abra-kadabra.’ I wanna see some magic!”

I began to cry in fear. I couldn’t focus my magic at all, my mind polluted by fear, swimming with the terror that shook me. Suddenly, I felt him let go of me and I fell to the floor. I looked up to see that Shining Armor had decked Big Macintosh, sending him across the parking lot.

“Abra-kadabra,” said Shining Armor.

“Big Brother,” I whispered.

I explained the situation as quickly as I could—the Mare-Do-Well was out of control, she attacked the Doctor, the elevator was stuck—and before I could finish, he looked at the elevator door and punched it, breaking it open. I felt more than a little silly, since the Doctor and I could have done that to begin with.

“There,” he said.

A moment’s pause as I looked down into the never-ending shaft. It felt like looking into an abyss, into which my descent, while my currently only option, held my doom before me.

I looked to Shining Armor, to this version of him. Like Big Macintosh, he was battered and bruised, blood coming from his lip and his left eye punched into a purple mess. But there was something more fundamentally unwell about him.

His eyes seemed so hollow. I thought over Big Mac’s words from earlier, about how I was like an impostor to this reality’s Twilight Sparkle. It must have been extremely hard for Shining Armor too, I thought, to see a pony who looked and acted just like his little sister who had died so very long ago. Not knowing what else I could do for him I reached up to hold him.

“Thank you,” I told him.

He looked as if he didn’t know what to say to that. “Just go,” he said. “Don’t look back!” He leapt back into his fight, his enemy howling for blood. I looked down the shaft. It seemed to go down several floors, spiraling into a yawning, shadowy drop.

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and while casting a Feather Fall spell on myself, took the plunge.

I entered the abyss, my brother’s battle raging above.

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