Chapter 15

Lieutenant Ironshod was having a bad day.

Now, mind you, his past week had been pretty bad anyways, what with the rampant crime, useless police, and the commissioner out for the blood of a vigilante that was actually helping people.

He just wished his own ponies weren’t such massive chickens.

“What is the matter with all of you?” he asked, angrily.

The gathered guards huddled on one side of the room, facing the doors to the political dungeons on the other side.

“S-sir…” one of the guards said, saluting. “We...we’ve been hearing some noises in the dungeon, sir, but every time we’ve gone down there, there hasn’t been anypony.”

Ironshod gave him a look. “So what? You all are scared of some noises?”

The pony hesitated. “S-sir...we believe the dungeon may be haunted…”

Ironshod gave the guard a long, hard look.

The guard did not waver.

Ironshod blinked. “Haunted?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, sir.”

Ironshod blinked slowly. Again. “I tell you what, Sergeant, I’m going to walk down, show you that there is no ghost, and you’re going to go back to what you were doing like a colt sleeping with a night light. Understood?”

The sergeant stepped aside, holding his hoof out as if to invite him to try.

Ironshod shook his head and stomped down into the dungeons.

“Morons,” the lieutenant muttered, walking down the stairs. “Haunted, please. What are they, four?” He kept walking down the stairs, and then paused at the landing.

All but one lamp was out.

Now, a burnt out lamp is not something to worry about normally, but…

These lamps, they had commissioned by Celestia herself. They did not run out of oil, they were resistant to wind and rain, they produced a minimal amount of heat, twice the light, and not an iota of smoke.

They don’t just go out.

Someone had put them out. All but one.

Someone...or...something…

Ironshod shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Iron. Someone’s playing a joke on you…”

He continued forward, an eerie silence permeating the room.

That...that’s not odd...there’s just no one in here, that all…

Even if the dungeons below these are stuffed to the brim with loud prisoners.

Nope, nothing wrong there.

He got to the last, burning lamp, and released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding as he stepped into the light.

“There’s nothing down here,” he muttered.

And then he noticed the cell.

The last, burning lamp was hanging directly in front of the late Pendragon’s cell.

It was still open.

He reached into the cell and closed it with a click.

The problem was he knew it had been closed.

And the sergeants were not allowed a key…

He shook his head. “Ghost, please...I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

He turned, and suddenly found himself staring into the armored face of the Silver Stallion. The ghost stared at him with its unblinking, glowing white eyes. “So,” he said, “Who you gonna call?”

The scream Ironshod unleashed was said to echo in the dungeons for three years after the fact, and he would hold the record for fastest exit of the dungeons for the next six decades.

All the sergeant and the other guards saw was a white and gold blur that ran past them before they heard Ironshod latch onto the chandelier.

The sergeant looked up to the lieutenant hanging from the ceiling, and shook his head. “I told you, sir…”

A knock sounded on Twilight’s room door, and the unicorn gave an answer. “Coming!”

She quickly put down the spoon that had Orion’s squashed carrots, and quickly went to the door. “Coming, coming.”

She opened the door, and had a pink ball of fluff leap at her. “Twilight!”

“Yah! Pinkie!”

The unicorn then became very familiar with the ground.

“Twilight! Twilight! Guess what?”

“Pinkie,” the unicorn groaned, “how many times have I asked you not to leap at me?”

“Forty-seven.”

“Make it forty-eight,” she said, before pushing the pink pony away from her.

Pinkie giggled as she got to her hooves, and Soarin entered the room behind her. “Hi, there, Twilight, hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”

Twilight shook her head, “I don’t have anything to do,” she said.

“Great!” Pinkie said. “Then you can come with us to this!”

A flyer was shoved into Twilight’s nose, and she nearly fell backwards trying to recover from the attack.

Finally getting her bearings, Twilight grabbed the page fluttering in her face, and quickly read the title.

“Victory Day Memorial Celebration, remembering the heroes who made peace possible…” she read.

“They’ve invited all of us,” Pinkie said, “but Fluttershy won’t come, Rarity and Spike are going out for dinner, and Applejack says that these kind of parties are not for her.”

Twilight looked up at the pink partier. “A memorial?”

Pinkie nodded. “It’s being hosted by the Tart family.”

“The Tart family?” Twilight asked, the name sounding familiar.

“Yeah, you know, like Kiwi Tart, the mare that held Alan’s banner.”

A faint image of a yellow-coated mare with a green mane came to her head. “O-oh, right, Kiwi Tart…”

“She really wants you to come, Twilight,” Pinkie said, “she said that she wants Alan to be remembered right, and if anyone can give a good speech about Alan it’s you.”

Twilight went quiet, and did not reply.

“Come on, Twi, please?” Pinkie said, giving her the best face-splitting smile she could manage.

Twilight looked down at the flyer in her hoof.

“Well,” she said finally, with a sad smile on her face, “I guess I have a week to get ready.”

Celestia stood at the top of the stairs, her guards behind her, and the dungeon’s below.

A ghost, they said, haunting the dungeons.

It took her a couple of days to hear about it, and once she did, she marched straight here.

She was going to end this foolishness.

“Princess,” a guard said, hesitantly, “are...are you sure you want to go down there?”

The Princess looked down at her guard with her bloodshot eyes. “I will deal with this,” she said, forcefully.

Besides, it would feel good to deal with a problem personally.

“Princess,” the guard continued, “I—”

She did not hesitate, and did not answer, instead taking the stairs down into the darkness.

“P-Princess!”

The guard called behind her.

Still, she did not answer.

The darkness did not slow the princess, in fact, she did not seem the least bit bothered by it as she descended into the inky depths of the dungeons. She took four, large, purposeful steps towards the only lit lantern, and stopped directly in front of the cell.

She was not completely prepared for what she saw.

A pony, made of ethereal silver sat on the cot, a mana-hand bouncing a small rubber ball against the far wall with a rhythmic “boomp.”

“Hello, Celestia,” the apparition greeted. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The Princess looked over the stallion, her eyes narrowing as she watched him throw the ball.

Boomp. Boomp-boomp.

She looked back up at him, and scowled. “That’s a fairly impressive spell, you have there.”

The ghost grabbed the ball and looked up at her. “Spell? What makes you think this is a spell?”

“Because, no matter what advances will be made in magic,” Celestia said, glaring at the ghost, “I know Death, and Death does not allow ghosts.”

The Silver Stallion looked her up and down, his face completely obscured by the chamfron on his head.

“I know who you’re trying to be, but the Pendragon is dead. You are a cheap imitation brought about by magic, and I will not stand for you besmirching the name of both the dead, and Death himself.”

There was silence for a second.

And then the Silver Stallion tossed the ball again. “Death doesn’t allow return trips either,” he noted.

Boomp. Boomp-boomp.

Celestia glared.

“Now, let us, for the sake of discussion, go ahead and assume that you are right, and I am not the spirit of your Pendragon. The question you should be asking is, why would I bother haunting your dungeon?”

Celestia’s glare did not lessen as the rubber ball continued to bounce. “To distract my already worn guards,” she answered.

“Do you really think so little of me?” the specter said, the tone in his voice suggesting a smile on his face. “Even after I’ve sent my mare to help you out?”

Celestia’s ears perked. “Your mare?” she asked.

“The Mysterious Mare Do Well, of course. Where did you think she got the idea?”

Celestia did not have an answer for that.

The spirit sighed. “Celestia, Princess, I understand if you don’t believe me. I understand if you question my motives. But I do want to help. I want to keep Equestria and it’s ponies safe, it’s what I’ve always wanted.” The ghost stood before her, and looked her in the eye. “I am on your side, and regardless of what my actions seem to say, I always have been.”

The ghost looked out, at the windowless wall, before sending her one last glance. “I am on your side, Princess, and you need to take a long second to figure out who else is.”

The Princess said nothing.

There was silence between them for a moment, and then the ghost spoke up again. “I’m glad you came, Princess. Is there anyway I can reach you easier if I need to?”

Celestia gave a small smile. “You could always be honest with me and tell me your name, then I can send you an enchanted journal.”

The ghost shook his head. “Now, now, Princess, no cheating.”

Celestia gave a soft laugh. “I suppose I might as well extend an invitation to my room.”

“That will be perfect, Princess. Even though I’d normally make you take me to dinner first.”

She shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.

“I’ll see you whenever I have something to report,” the apparition said, “don’t hold your breath, though.”

He turned, and began to head towards the wall, when Celestia spoke again, her voice cool, but not angry. “If you are my Pendragon, why haven’t you spoken to your wife?”

The Silver Stallion paused, standing before the wall before lowering his head. “Because I’m the world’s worst husband and father.”

And then he stepped through the wall, and disappeared from sight, leaving only the rubber ball to bounce along the floor.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was in the backyard of what was essentially her apartment building, looking down the yard at the small target on the far end.

A bow, fit for a hoof, was strapped to her foreleg, and came with numerous balances, counterbalances, sights, quiver, and anything she wanted at any given moment.

She propped herself onto her rear legs, and gripped an arrow through hoof magic.

She always liked holding the bow in her hooves, it had a more satisfying feel.

Also, yes, she did practice Archery.

It had started back when she was young, one of the many talents her parents had her try her hoof at, next to tapestry making and basket weaving.

She let fly, the arrow striking true only half a hoof away from the bullseye.

She just really did enjoy this more.

Dropping back to three hooves, the one holding her bow still in the air, she grabbed another arrow with the ring of magic, and nocked it.

She stood again, lining up her second shot, just as a lavender unicorn rounded the bend, her young, blue-coated son on her shoulder. “Hey, Cadence!”

The princess did not immediately answer, instead she kept her pose, and then quickly let fly, the arrow burying itself almost directly next to the first.

She released a breath, and turned to Twilight with a smile. “Twilight! Hi! How have you been?”

“Better,” she said simply. “What about you?”

“Oh, you know, holding court, trying to take care of the family, never a moment to myself,” the pink alicorn said as she placed her bow on a nearby table. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been invited to a war memorial celebration as a guest speaker,” Twilight explained.

“Oh? Wow, congratulations!” she said, smiling. “Now, let me guess, let me guess, you need me to look over Orion for the night?”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said instantly. “I understand if you can’t, it’s so last minute and I—”

Cadence stopped her with a gentle touch, and took her nephew from his mother. “Don’t apologize for a thing,” she said. “Skyla just loves it when her cousin comes over. Yes, she does, yes, she does,” she said, nuzzling his belly.

Twilight smiled. “Thanks, Cadence.”

“It’s not a problem, Twilight,” she said, hefting the colt to her shoulder. “I’m just glad to see you again. It’s been a while.”

Twilight lowered her head. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...It’s been hard.”

Cadence’s smile faded slightly, and she rested a hoof onto Twilight’s wither. “I can only imagine.”

Twilight nodded, before wiping the frown away and giving the Princess of love a smile. “I’ll be back for him by eleven. Not much later than that.”

The Memorial Celebration was much more fancy than Twilight was expecting.

Apparently, the Tart’s were quite an important family, or, at the very least, improbably rich.

They had rented out a massive ballroom, one with a domed, glass ceiling that gave the party-goers an admittedly breath-taking view of Canterlot’s cityscape, as well as three dozen waiters with some rather impressive catering, if the smell of their alfalfa and rice dish was anything to go by.

The crowd that had shown up was not a bad sample either.

Several of the patriarchs of some noble houses that Twilight recognized had come, complete with well-dressed, too-young-for-him trophy wives.

Other than the nobles, though, she didn’t see too many other ponies she recognized. In fact, if she had to guess, she’d have to say that maybe there were five soldiers actually there, not including Kiwi Tart, herself, Pinkie, and Soarin.

Speaking of, the pink earth pony was standing on the far side of the room, and, judging by the grin that had just appeared on her face, had just spotted the lavender unicorn. “Twilight!” she called, perhaps a touch too loud for the atmosphere that had been planned, before bouncing toward her in a pounce that expertly navigated the crowd.

The pink pony landed perfectly next to unicorn, and pounced her with a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Twi!”

“Hey, Pinkie,” Twilight said with a smile, hugging back.

“I’m so glad you made it!” Pinkie said, revealing the pink, slim dress she had chosen to wear that evening.

“Come on! Kiwi Tart wants to see you!”

Pinkie’s bounce, Twilight realized was a little...odd. Specifically speaking, she should not be able to navigate a crowd as easily as she did.

But then again, it was Pinkie.

“General Sparkle!” a mare’s voice cried, greeting her, and the yellow and green unicorn who owned it waved and saluted at her.

Twilight sheepishly saluted back, and approached her generous host, whose curly mane flowed down her neck. “Oh, I’m so glad you made it, General.”

“I’m glad to be invited, and please, just call me Twilight.”

“Yeah, we’re off duty!” Pinkie said. “No need to be super formal on us.”

“Even when it is a formal event,” Soarin noted, bringing up the rear.

Twilight smiled, laughing to herself.

“Well, it's good to know that you're doing well," Kiwi said. "I was so shocked when I heard the news about the Pendragon.”

Twilight's smile faded, and she gave a slow nod.

“But he's alive, Twilight. Or at the least, a ghost…”

She ignored that part of her brain.

“Well,” Kiwi Tart began, eagerly searching for a change of subject, “um...my father would like to meet you! Yes, come on, let me introduce you to Dad.”

Kiwi led her away, and Twilight began the first of an avalanche of greetings.

The party was in full swing now, the ponies all talking and mingling with each other as the band played quiet, if vaguely patriotic, music.

Twilight kept waiting for them to begin playing a fast-paced number she could dance to, only to remember that they weren’t going to do that because Alan wasn’t here to bribe them.

Still, it wasn’t a bad. It felt a little on the nice side to get out into the world and talk to ponies again.

All she needed to do was not going into a maddening spiral of mad mutterings about how her husband was secretly alive and waging a war on crime.

It was harder to do than she thought.

Still, before she knew it, she had been called up for her speech.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts,” Kiwi said as she stood on the stage, “please put your hooves together for tonight’s guest of honor, General Twilight Sparkle.”

A polite applause from the crowd sounded as Twilight walked up the stage. A spotlight fell on her, and she smiled before clearing her throat.

A silence fell onto the crowd, and Twilight quietly walked up to the small podium they had provided, and pulled out a set of flashcards.

Clearing her throat one last time, she began. “Good Evening, my fellow ponies,” she said, feeling her mouth go instantly dry. “Y-you know, it’s funny,” she fumbled, searching for an ice-breaker, “as I was walking up here I was thinking that we all have a lot in common today. None of us know what I’m going to say!”

A few restrained chuckles broke out.

There was, however, one pony who had thought it was hilarious, though, and his voice echoed rather loudly over the crowd.

Twilight smiled, her confidence returning. “Thank you, I’ll be here all week.”

The pony’s laughter was renewed. “Bwa-hahaha-ha!”

Once he settled, Twilight continued. “Thank you, it’s an honor to speak here tonight, among such great and upstanding ponies—”

“Ya-haha-ha-heehee-haha!”

Twilight gave a nervous laugh. “Haha...A-as I stand here, surrounded in the company of those my late husband called his brothers and sisters in arms—”

“Hahaha! Heehee-ha-ho!”

The rest of the crowd was silent.

Twilight waited a second before continuing. “As I stand in your company, I find myself awestruc—”

“Ya-heehee-he-haha-haa!”

“Will somepony shut him up?” someone said from the crowd.

The spotlight on Twilight spun, coming up to reveal the operator to be a white-faced pegasus in a purple suit with a daisy in his lapel. His wide, green eyes sparkled with madness as his grin, made to seem larger by the clown-like facepaint, let loose another laugh. “Why do that? The joke’s only just begun!”

Chaos erupted on the ballroom floor as the lights went up to reveal ten ponies, all dressed in Nightmare Night clown masks and armed with knives. Screams went up, followed by the metallic smell of blood as a pony fell with a knife in his back.

All of the ponies with military training were already up, moving to stop their attackers and defend the other ponies with their lives.

The Clown Killer flittered down to the floor, walking through the chaos as if he had been born in it. He walked towards Twilight, his smile never leaving his face.

The doors then suddenly blew open, having been torn apart by a massive blue pony with a clown mask like the others and carrying a large hammer.

The clown smacked his lips loudly. “Now, now, Kiddos, calm down. I need you all to set a good example for Sledge, here. Don’t want him to get all riled up. He’s has a terrible temper,” he said with a laugh.

“Hahahahahahaha!”

The fight began to slow, the soldiers standing between the thugs and the guests. That did not stop Twilight, though.

“Call them off, clown!” she growled, horn glowing.

“Now, now, Mrs. Sparkle,” he said, before his wings grabbed onto his suit coat, pulling them open to reveal stick after stick of dynamite, each stamped with a yellow smiley face, “Let’s not blow this out of proportion, now? Heh-heh-heh-haha…”

Twilight’s eyes went wide at the sight of the explosives, and her spell fizzled as the clown forced his way up to the podium.

“Have I mentioned the deadpony switch?” he asked. “It’s really simple, if I die, then it switches the whole crowd to dead ponies.”

The small herd now stood, frozen as the clown took the podium. “Good evening, Fillies and Gentlecolts. We’re tonight’s entertainment! And I am your host, Joe. Joe Kerr,” he said, grinning manically as he produced a top hat and cane. “Or Bad Joke, Ill humor and a dozen others…” he added, before a flick of the fetlock produced fifty-two business cards. “Pick a card, any card! Ha-hahahahahaha!”

Two more ponies came in through the open door, a large box hovering between them as it was held by their combined telekinesis.

“Welcome, welcome!” Bad Joke said. “Welcome to Joke’s Circus!”

The two newcomers set the box down behind the crowd, and the side slid away to reveal a tiger, worn thin by starvation, and chained to the side of the cage.

“Let the show begin!” Bad Joke said. “Ya-Hahahahahahahahahaha-haha!”

The tiger roared, it’s hunger-starved mind telling it to eat anything that came near it.

Twilight blinked, her mind racing to figure out how to work in this situation. She needed to deal with the pegasus, whom she could now see had a beige coat, only really revealed by his wings and hooves. She needed to get him away, and also disable him to—

A heavy hoof came down on her horn, sending the room spinning.

She felt herself being lifted up and then thrown into the crowd. All the while, Bad Joke spoke. “Now, now, Mrs. Sparkle. You know how a magic show works. No peeking.”

The crowd was now murmuring wildly, the mares panicking while the stallions muttered nervously.

Only the soldiers stood still, standing steadfast between the civilians and the criminals.

“Now,” Bad Joke said, waiting a beat for the audience.

The muttering continued.

Bad Joke cleared his throat.

The crowd was not silent.

Bad Joke frowned. “Shut Up, or I’ll rip out the throats of every single one of you!”

That got their attention.

The smile returned. “Better. Now, my captive audience, now that I have your attention, we can have a nice, long talk. And we are going to start with you,” he said, pointing a lone hoof, “General Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

Pinkie stared at him with wide, confused eyes.

“Me?” She asked, looking into the pegasus’ eyes.

Those wicked, green eyes.

Those eyes that bored into her soul and looked into the darkest places of her mind.

An older stallion, the one Twilight recognized as Kiwi’s father once the room stopped spinning, stepped forward.

“What do you want with us?”

Bad Joke’s head turned from Pinkie, and she released a breath she had not realized she was holding, and turned to the older stallion. “What do I want?” he asked, smacking his lips. “What do I want? Now that is a question.”

The clown stepped down from the podium, his wicked grin shining as he stepped closer.

“What in the wide, wide world of Equestria do I want?” he asked again, smacking his lips. “Heh, heh. Well, I can tell you I don’t want your money, I don’t want fame, and I certainly don’t want your pathetic little lives. No,” he said with a smile, “no, what I want is far more simple.”

They were almost nose to nose, now, Bad Joke and Kiwi’s father.

“I just want one, tiny, ittsy-bittsy, little thing,” Bad Joke told them. “I just want you all, to smile.”

A green cloud of gas shot forward from the daisy on the clown’s lapel, and Kiwi’s father caught the gas full in the face.

Kiwi’s father reeled, coughing as the gas filled his nostrils.

And Bad Joke smiled.

The stallion coughed, trying to clear his lungs as he fell to his knees.

And then he began to laugh.

Kiwi’s father began to laugh, low and slow at first, before rising. His laugh echoed through the ballroom and all eyes fell on him.

The old stallion turned, coughing, but never stopping that empty, hollow laugh.

A manic grin had spread across his face, and the laughter got worse, it was getting erratic and wild, followed by tears that were now streaming from his face as he struggled to breath.

“Hahahahahahahahaha-hahahahahahahahaha!”

He gasped for air, crawling as he smiled, unable to breathe.

“Hahaha-hahaha-hahahaha-hahaha!”

Kiwi stared down at her father in horror as he got closer, his eyes wide, his pupil’s terrified pinpricks, and the massive smile on his face.

“Haha-haha-hahahahaha! Ha ha ha! Haaaaa…”

Her father went still, and the laughing finally stopped.

But that smile never left his face.

“There!” Bad Joke said, picking up the old stallion, and holding him by the shoulder as if they were good buddies. “Look how happy he is! Yahahahahaha!” He let the stallion drop and turned back to the crowd.

“Now...where was I?” the crazed criminal asked, before his green eyes fell to the pink general. “Ah, yes...you, Mrs. Pie.”

Soarin stepped up next to her, body low and ready to pounce. “What do you want with her?” he asked in a growl.

“The honor of meeting my inspiration,” Bad Joke said, that smile never leaving his face.

Pinkie’s eyes went wide. “Inspir-what?”

Bad Joke took a bow. “How could you not? The pony that banishes fear with a laugh? The pony that says a joke can fix any problem? The mare who decreed that no pony should be without a smile on their face and a song in their heart? How could a pony like you not be my hero?”

Pinkie stared at him with a horrified expression on her face. “B-but you’re a meanie!”

“Aren’t we all?” Bad Joke asked. “Ponies are evil, Mrs. Pie. I’m just trying to fix the problem.”

“Well I’m about to fix you!” Soarin yelled, before pouncing the clown.

Bad Joke moved.

He moved far too fast.

Far too fast.

Twilight barely saw it, but she swore that Bad Joke grabbed the pouncing pegasus and buried his face into the ground. The knives in his wings spread out, and the blade went straight to Soarin’s throat.

“And you must be Mr. Pie,” Bad Joke said, his hooves pinning his wings and the knife pressing into flesh. The clown’s eyes went to Pinkie. “Tell me, Mrs. Pie, do you love him?”

Pinkie stared, frozen on the spot, staring straight at her husband.

Twilight knew that look. It was the look of a mare that had her heart gripped by fear.

“Y-yes…” Pinkie squeaked.

Bad Joke’s smile grew bigger. “Are you afraid?”

“Y-yes…”

“Then laugh, Mrs. Pie.”

“W-what?”

“I’m the ghostie, so let’s hear you giggle. I want to see you laugh at this. All of this!” he said, motioning to the crooks around them, the comatose stallion with the smile on his face, even as Kiwi Tart wept, and the tiger that strained against his chain. “Laugh, and your husband goes free.”

Pinkie stared at him.

Laugh?

Laugh at suffering and pain?

Laugh at the misfortune of others?

Laugh?

Bad Joke frowned. “Now!” he roared, before his hoof came down on Soarin’s wing.

The wonderbolt screamed as the bones snapped.

“Ha! Hahaha!” Pinkie said, trying to laugh.

“You call that a laugh?! I know you can do better!”

“Hahahahahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahaha!” she laughed, tears falling from her face as she plead.

Bad Joke’s smile returned. “Better.”

Pinkie’s laugh turned manic, her mane going flat as tears continued to fall.

Bad Joke smiled, and his laugh joined hers.

“Yahahahahahahahahahaha-hee-hahahahahahahaha!”

And then the blade at Soarin’s throat moved.

Twilight had moved before she even knew it, but a magick sheath had wrapped around the blade at the last second, saving the Wonderbolt’s life.

Bad Joke looked down at his victim, confused at that fact that he was still alive.

Pinkie moved next, running forward and shoving the clown away from her husband.

The soldiers moved between them, even as the clown was recovering from the blow.

Bad Joke was frowning. “Which one of you saved him?”

The ponies glared at him.

“Which one?!” Bad Joke roared.

The ponies stayed silent.

Bad Joke snorted and screamed. “Kill them! Kill all of them!”

The thugs moved forward, brandishing their knives and blades.

And that’s when a geyser of green smoke shot up from behind one of the upturned tables.

All eyes turned to the gas, shocked at its sudden appearance.

Four more geysers popped, quickly filling the room.

And then a mare’s voice spoke.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!”

Bad Joke smiled.

“I am the storm that hovers on the horizon.”

“Good,” Bad Joke said. “It was getting boring in here.”

“I am Mare Do Well!”

Chaos erupted.

Thugs dropped, a mare in a purple cape and hat spun in the clouds, visibility was reduced to a few hooves, and the noise of the battle roared around them.

Twilight stood, and began roaring orders. “Everyone get out of here! Head for the doors! Somepony grab Mr. Tart and Soarin!”

“You heard her!” One of the soldiers yelled. “Let’s get them out of here! Go! Go! Go!”

Twilight led the civilians, charging through the green cloud. “Come on! Follow me!” she cried, running towards the last place where she saw the doors.

Only to run almost nose-first into a mask-wearing pony with a knife.

“They're trying to escape!” the thug said, raising his knife to stab the lavender unicorn.

As he brought his knife down, though, a flash of green erupted to the right, and the Mare Do Well shot forward.

Twilight stared with wide eyes as the thug’s thrust pierced straight through Mare Do Well’s leg.

And not a drop of blood.

Mare Do Well twisted her foreleg, wrenching the knife from the thug’s magical grasp before turning for a kick to the face.

The two disappeared into the mist, and Twilight shook her head and stood again. “Come on! Let’s go! Everypony move!”

She ran to the door, the panicked ponies behind her being herded by the soldiers. “Come on! Let’s go! Move, move, mo—”

“Jotum!”

A dragon’s roar pierced the sound of battle, and the mist was blown back at the sound. On the floor stood Mare Do Well, facing off Bad Joke while all but three of the thugs lay on the ground, unconscious.

But Twilight didn’t see them.

No, once she had heard that shout, her eyes had immediately begun searching for the source.

And she found him.

There, standing on a buttress, high above the dance floor, stood the immaterial, armored figure that Twilight instantly recognized as the Silver Stallion.

Alan was here.

“So you finally came!” Bad Joke said excitedly. “I was starting to think that you didn’t exist!”

The Silver Stallion said nothing, but merely drew a ghostly replica of Judgement.

Bad Joke laughed. “Let the party begin!”

Twilight watched, wide-eyed as the ghost stepped off the buttress, and floated down to the ground, before standing on his hind legs to grasp the sword.

She knew that stance.

The other ponies were running past her, down the stairs, to escape from the crazed criminals, but Twilight kept watching.

There he was.

Right there.

Her husband stood not four cart-lengths away.

Well, her dead husband.

“Talk to him!” Her mind screamed. “Get over there and beg for forgiveness you stupid—”

Somepony grabbed her, and began pulling her down the stairs.

“No! No! Wait! I need to talk to him!”

The Silver Stallion disappeared from view, as she was dragged down.

“No! No! I need to talk with him! I need to!”

The pony holding her did not slow down.

An explosion rocked the building.

“The dynamite!”

“No!”

The Royal Guard had set up a perimeter around the building with the blown-out roof, glass littering the streets and wood splinters from the tables up above.

It was hard to tell from down here, but Twilight had to guess, as she was wrapped in a blanket, that only half the room had been caught in the explosion, the rest having been spared.

The Guards had already gotten her statement, but there were still many guests that needed to be interviewed, so she sat in silence off to the side, watching the Guard work.

Mr. Tart had been taken to the hospital, along with Soarin’ and Pinkie, the latter mostly because she wouldn’t be separated from him for more than a minute.

Twilight sighed.

She had been so close.

Still, at least she had seen him. She knew the Silver Stallion was real, at the very least.

It was comforting in a way.

She sighed, taking another look around and checking the star-filled sky above her.

They were out in full force tonight, and...and…

That star was moving.

Twilight blinked.

That...that wasn’t a star.

That was...that was the Silver Stallion.

She stood, letting the blanket fall away from her withers.

The ghost flew away above her, heading down to the ground.

And Twilight followed.

Alright, guys! One more chapter until the big moment! One to go, and the whole story will turn on it’s head.

“Uh...Miner...I’ve got a question.”

Sure, what?

“I’m just wondering why you put the Joker in the story.”

Oh, well...that’s mostly because, while Ledger did a wonderful job at the Joker, it wasn’t that great of a Joker.

“What do you mean?”

Ledger’s Joker laughs maybe three times during the whole movie.

“What? No he...I...um...does he?”

He does, and you and I both know that Joker is nearly nothing without his laugh, and the fact that Ledger made such a compelling character without that says something. That being said, I do think they missed some serious potential without using Joker Gas, that stuff was messed up.

Anyway, the point was that this was my chance to see those mistakes fixed. Oh, and before anyone asks, Bad Joke is voiced by Mark Hamill.

“Of course he is!”

Thanks for reading guys, and we’ll see you next time!

“Be sure to comment!”

Bye!