Hours of useless searching has led Team PART(ie) back to the Royal Academy in the middle of the full moon night. A weak wind rustles the leafs of the lifeless campus's trees, and the team's dead, baggy eyes stare straight ahead with nothing registering of their peripheral visions. Their brains are barely functioning enough to get them into the elevator of their dorm building, and after a couple of mishaps of pushing the wrong buttons they finally reach their floor. Then there is the problem of Pinkie Pie's card not wanting to go into the slot. It grazes in front of the slot or to the sides of the slot, but it really does not like going in. After the sixth attempt it finally goes in and Team PART(ie) staggers inside, welcoming their carpet and the darkness granted to them by the thick, red curtain blocking their window.

Pinkie Pie celebrates their arrival by face planting the floor, and her flat hair spills around her, giving her the appearance of a used pink mop head attached to a mannequin. Rarity goes to her bed, which is underneath Trixie's bunk, and flops on her back, deflating with a loud, weary sigh. Applejack flops in her seat at their desk and willfully allows her head to fall on the cool wood, and Trixie heads straight to the bathroom, clutching her stiff hand. Shortly after the door closes, running water is heard and Rarity yawns.

“What a great night,” mutters Rarity sarcastically.

“Eeyup,” says Applejack.

“Serry fer nut finden yer fon,” says Pinkie Pie.

Rarity leans on her elbow. “What?”

Pinkie Pie pushes herself up and sits crosslegged on the floor, sighing with her shoulders sagged and her hair partially covering her blackened, drooping eyes. “Sorry for not finding your phone. I thought we had a chance of finding it, and I was wrong.”

Now Rarity is sitting up on the bed and rubbing her eyes. “It's okay. We'll just have to look for that Tsunite tomorrow.”

The bathroom door suddenly bangs against the wall, jolting everyone up, and all falls on the source, which is Trixie standing in the bathroom doorway, seething with a red face and fingers digging into the frame. The trio stare at her for a few more seconds before Pinkie Pie stands up.

“Um, are you okay, Trixie?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“What is your problem with Tsunites?” says Trixie.

“What? I don't got a problem with them. I'm friends with fifty of them on Chatbook.”

“Not you, you dodo.” Trixie stomps towards Rarity and jabs at her. “You! What's your deal?”

Rarity points at herself. “Me? Nothing. Why are you asking?”

“Don't play dumb with me! All night long it has been nothing but: Have you seen a Tsunite? Have you seen a Tsunite? That Tsunite. I can't believe that Tsunite. Tsunite, Tsunite, Tsunite, Tsunite! That's all you ever said!”

Rarity gets up and stands toes to toe with Trixie, glaring down at her and forcing the smaller girl to look up.

“He was a Tsunite, just like you,” says Rarity. “I hardly see what is so offensive about it.”

“It was your tone,” says Trixie sharply with tears pooling in her eyes. “Trixie could practically smell the poison in your voice.”

Applejack and Pinkie Pie get between the two, with Applejack gently guiding Trixie back and Pinkie Pie pulling at Rarity's arm.

“C'mon, hun. I think you might be overreacting some,” says Applejack.

“Trixie is not overreacting!” cries Trixie. “How can you not hear her tone? It was mean!”

“What else did you want me to say?” says Rarity. “He's a Tsunite, nothing more!”

Trixie snarls and tries to wiggle past Applejack, but the farmer holds her back.

“How about an actual description?” says Trixie, her eyes now bloodshot and tears trickling down her cheeks. “How about what he looked like beyond a Tsunite!”

“Trixie, please relax,” begs Pinkie Pie as she steps in front of Rarity and places her hands together like a prayer. “I am sure Rarity didn't mean anything hateful but we can talk about this some more after we get some sleep, okay?”

“Again, he was a Tsunite. What else was I supposed to say?” says Rarity over Pinkie Pie. “Or is that offensive to you? Is your own race name offensive to you? Do you want me to stop calling the bed a bed? Or the lamp or lamp? Or Pinkie Pie single?”

“Heh, I'm not single, anymore,” says Pinkie Pie proudly.

“Pinkie, this is serious!” scolds Applejack.

Pinkie Pie's smile instantly deflates and she shrinks back, whimpering in shame, and Applejack turns to Trixie and places her hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eyes.

“And you need to relax,” says Applejack.

Trixie shrugs off Applejack and points at Rarity. “No! She hates Trixie! She hates Tsunites!”

“Maybe if the Tsuinites didn't destroy the world we wouldn't hate them!” screams Rarity.

She immediately clamps her hands over her mouth, and her eyes bulge as her face burns red, and Applejack and Pinkie Pie stare at her, jaws to the floor while Trixie glares at her. The air becomes cold and thick, and nobody moves. Nobody speaks. Nobody but Rarity.

“Trixie, I'm sorry,” says Rarity quietly, her hand reaching out to her teammate.

Trixie's trembling fists clench and tears drench her cheeks as short, sharp breaths exit her nose, and when Rarity takes a step closer, she steps back.

“I'm sorry, it just came out,” says Rarity shakily with tears streaking her mascara.

Without saying a word, Trixie storms out of the room and slams the door shut, shaking the wall. Her heavy steps are quick to fade, and when Pinkie Pie runs out into the hallway all she sees a portal closing on the patio. She runs out on the patio, leans against the railings and strains her eyes in hopes of seeing any signs of her teammate in the multitude of structures of the Academy, but there is none. There is only darkness.

Growling, Pinkie Pie bangs her palms on the railing and then stomps back to her room, scratching her hair out, and by the time she yanks open the door she is seething and seeing red. Directly in front of her is Rarity, who sitting on her bed in a catatonic state while Applejack is back at the desk, arms folded, legs outstretched and her eyes burning like a wildfire with darkness in her baggy eyes.

Pinkie Pie brushes some of her flat hair out of her eyes, storms towards Rarity, grabs her by her blouse's collar and hoists her up.

“What the heck was that!” says Pinkie Pie, giving Rarity a hard shake.

Rarity squeaks and looks away with her eyes shut and lips trembling. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to,” she whimpers.

Pinkie Pie huffs and throws Rarity back on her bed, and she steps back, rubbing her along her forehead, which leads to a few more strands floating off. With the strands of pink sticking to her hand, Pinkie Pie mutters angrily and flails her hand, but because of this, she almost misses Applejack leaving.

“Halt!” barks Pinkie Pie, her hand outstretched to Applejack, but her hardened glare focused on the floor. She takes a deep breath through her nose and looks at Applejack, who has stopped in midstep and is also looking at her. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To get a drink,” says Applejack, now fully facing Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie Pie turns fully, stomps her foot and points at the floor. “Oh, no, you're staying right here with us.”

“Why? So I can hear Ms. Pamper talk about how great her bullshit is?”

Rarity sniffles and hides her face in her hands, and Pinkie Pie shakes her head.

“No. So you can plant your butt in that seat and help us come up with a plan to find Trixie and bring her back,” says Pinkie Pie.

“She's a celebrity!” says Applejack. “Her old man's probably got a loft in Canterlot somewhere that she can crash at. She just needs some time to cool off. Like me.”

Pinkie Pie scoffs. “Oh, yeah, sure, let me just look up Lulamoon in a phone book and see where that takes us.”

“That's what they're there for!”

“I was being sarcastic!”

Right after, a trio of knocks sound off, but Applejack and Pinkie Pie hold their stare down while Rarity remains quiet and stiff. There is another set of knocks and Flash's muffled voice seeps through their door, asking if everything is okay. Hearing that, Pinkie Pie sighs and points at the chair as she walks towards the door.

“Sit,” orders Pinkie Pie.

Applejack huffs and drops on the chair like a rock and glares straight ahead, and when Pinkie Pie opens the door she is greeted by Team FORT. They are in their pajamas, with Twilight in her gown, Rainbow Dash in her sweats and tank top, Octavia in just her really long shirt and putting on the finishing touches of her device, and Flash wearing an orange pajama set dotted with green musical notes.

Not really wanting to ponder why Octavia is not wearing any pants, Pinkie Pie forces a smile and coolly leans against the door frame as she her arms folded across her chest, despite her face being red and her vein throbbing.

“Hey, Flash, how's it going?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“We heard shouting and wanted to see if everyone was okay,” says Flash. He looks past Pinkie Pie's shoulder and sees Rarity's distressed state. “Is she okay?”

Pinkie Pie slides in front of Flash, blocking his view of Rarity. “She's fine.”

“None of us are fine, Pinkie,” says Applejack.

Pinkie Pie turns to Applejack, glaring and slashing her finger across her neck as she speaks through her teeth. “Shut it!”

“Your hair is flat,” points out Octavia.

Pinkie Pie sighs and rubs her brow. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“You're also hostile.”

“Do you want a medal for the esteemed Most Obvious Observation Award?”

Flash gently puts his hand on Pinkie Pie's shoulder and tries to look her in the eyes, but she averts her focus away from him, preferring the view of the door frame over his face. Plus, she really does not want to deal with the envy gaze Twilight is giving. It is bad enough that she can feel it, but she really does not want to see it, especially now.

“Pinkie, what's wrong?” asks Flash softly.

Pinkie Pie breathes heavily through her nose, and after flicking her eyes to and from Flash, she swallows a hard lump in her throat and musters the courage to meet his eyes.

“Trixie ran away,” says Pinkie Pie, her eyes glazing and nose runny. “She got mad over some words and ran off. She didn't tell us anything. She just took off, used her portal thing and disappeared, and now we have no idea where to start.”

“Why not just call her and ask where she went?” asks Twilight.

Pinkie Pie frowns and holds up a charred and cracked phone.

“Oh,” says Twilight.

“How did that happen?” asks Flash.

“Some jerk electrocuted us after he stole Rarity's phone and the whole night went zepsuł się right after that,” says Pinkie Pie.

“Wow, that really sucks,” says Rainbow Dash.

Pinkie Pie grins broadly. “Thanks! I thought so, too!”

Team FORT grimaces and Pinkie Pie scowls and throws her broken phone over her shoulder, where it lands perfectly in a garbage can. Moment's later, the team's expression softens and Flash rubs his neck, keeping a concerned eye on Pinkie Pie.

“Look, if you want us to, we will be more than happy and willing to help you find Trixie. Besides, I'm pretty sure Octavia knows someone that can track her,” says Flash.

“It'll cost you,” says Octavia.

Flash glares at her. “Really?”

Octavia shrugs. “It is only business.”

“Can't you make an exception? Trixie is a friend of ours.”

“She is an acquaintance, and it is for that reason that I am charging ten percent less.”

Pinkie Pie shakes her head. “You got issues, lady.”

Before any response can be made, the phone on the dorm's desk rings and everyone looks at it, confused beyond words. The phone rings again and the group looks at each other, letting their mixed bag of expressions speak the words their tongues won't. After the fourth ring Octavia raises a brow.

“Am I going to have to answer the phone?” she asks.

The phone rings yet again and Applejack answers it while giving Octavia an unfriendly look.

“Hello? … Wait, who? … Land's sakes, how did you get this number?” says Applejack. She stands up with the phone's body in hand and paces in a circle, trapping herself in its cord. “You looked it up? ... This number ain't listed … What are you, some kind of hacker?”

“Applejack, who is it?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Applejack untangles herself, and then leans against the wall, grunting and nodding. As this happens, Pinkie Pie scoffs and points at her cousin with her hand while looking at Flash.

“See what I've been having to deal with?” says Pinkie Pie.

“Yeah,” says Flash.

“It looks like you haven't been following your own leadership advice,” says Twilight.

Pinkie Pie turns to Twilight, smiling toothlessly and cracking her knuckles.

“Please be quiet before I do something horribly mean to you,” says Pinkie Pie.

Flash gets between the two girls with his hands out. “Okay, everybody just calm down. Applejack, who's on the phone?”

Applejack holds up her finger and turns her back to the group. “Do you know what time it is? … Okay, how about the three day rule? Have you ever heard of that?”

Pinkie's eyes bulge and glow like a super nova, and she bolts away from Flash, slams Applejack into the wall holds the phone to her ear while laying prone, face to face, on top of Applejack's twitching figure.

“Pinprickisthatyou?” says Pinkie Pie breathlessly. She gasps from pure, untainted joy that illuminates her in warmth and she scrambles to her feet, completely oblivious to how she is stepping all over Applejack or the Applejack shaped indent in the wall. “Yay, it is you, my happiness cupcake!”

With Pinkie Pie off of Applejack, the downed farmer crawls away and is eventually helped up by Rainbow Dash and Octavia, all while Pinkie Pie takes a seat and twirls the phone cord around her finger with a whimsical glow.

“Pinkie Pie does not seem to handle emotions very well,” says Octavia as she and Dash ease Applejack on Pinkie Pie's bed.

Applejack rubs her head and glares at Pinkie Pie out of the corner of her eye. “Control ain't her strong suit.”

“So, what's the deal with her?” asks Rainbow Dash, jabbing her thumb at Rarity.

“She's in trouble.”

“Because...?”

Applejack looks at Rarity, and she looks back at her, her pathetic reddened eyes barely able to focus on the trio in front of her.

Applejack sighs and looks down. “She just made a mistake, but it ain't one we can ignore.” She then wipes her nose and looks at Pinkie Pie harshly. “And she ain't the only one who needs a talking to.”

At this point, Flash and Twilight are in the dorm with the door closed, and Pinkie Pie is leaning over the desk, gripping the phone tight.

“Pinprick, I actually need your help really, really, really bad,” says Pinkie Pie desperately, “like super bad kind of bad because one of my friends got mad and ran off and we don't know where she went so can you help us pretty please I'll love you forever if I … What? … Oh, she's short and … Yes, she's the one that called you a drug dealer … Okay, I'll try, and OH! Can you do me another favor and bring seventy five cents? … Awesome sauce, we'll meet you there. BYE!”

Pinkie Pie slams the phone down unnecessarily hard, hops to her feet and points at Flash.

“Flash Sentry, my comrade, do you still want to help me?” asks Pinkie Pie.

“Of course,” says Flash, nodding.

Pinkie Pie claps her hands, grinning from ear to ear with determination glowing in her tired eyes. “Goodie. Operation: Finding Trixie is in full swing!”

A chilled breeze blows trash and brown leafs past Trixie's feet as she sits on a cold metal bench near the quiet road with the only light being the lamppost next to it. A tiny shiver runs along her arms and legs, and she wipes tears from her baggy eyes without looking away from the wall across the street.

It is nothing special as far as she can tell. It has an enormous picture of a pale skinned man with golden hair wearing a white suit with a blue bow tie and a red rose in his breast pocket, flashing a peace sign. His smile is arrogance incarnate and below him is:

Though, those words blow him -as well as a large part of his body- are covered with crudely spray painted words saying: EQUALITY NOW!

Another gust chills Trixie and she turns her body so her back is to the wind and she folds her arms across her chest, shivering and growling. She then looks at a schedule with a red header being displayed on a metal sign via holographic projection and her eyes scan the lines for any indication of when the bus will come. After finding the red track schedule she finds out that much to her dismay she still has fifty minutes to go for the next bus to show up.

Scoffing, Trixie slumps down and grabs the back of her next. “Well, that's just great.”

“A gute nakht,” says a nervous voice from behind.

Trixie jumps and turns around with her hand snapping to her wand. Confusion and caution infest her when she sees a tall, dark skinned man with fantastic silver hair and a hoodie carefully approaching her with an empty backpack slung across his shoulder.

“What?” says Trixie.

“A gute nakht... Tsi ir redn Tsiun?” says the man.

Trixie's expression becomes blank as a white wall, and the the man stops and his cheeks flush.

“Aw, crap. You don't speak Tsiun, do you?” he asks.

This time Trixie's brain actually works, and she shakes her head and waves her hand with her face averted to hide the embarrassed blush, her hand now off of her wand.

"Nit, nit, ikh red aundzer shprakh,” says Trixie. She sighs and continues in her tongue, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Sorry, it has just been a very unpleasant few hours and it has been a while since I heard someone else speak my language.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” The man hesitates, then eases himself down, and when she glances at him he smiles sheepishly. “It is not safe to be alone in the dark. I'll wait with you for the bus if you want. I mean, if you don't mind, anyway. If you do mind I can always go the other way.”

Trixie holds up her hand and the stranger stops talking. She then takes a heavy breath and slides over on the bench to give him some room, and to emphasis her wordless order, she points at the open space. The man sits next to her with his empty backpack on his lap and he taps his foot quickly on the pavement. Trixie's eyes slide from the road, to his foot, back to the road, back to his foot, and another cycle of road and foot before slams her had on his leg, stopping it cold.

The man looks at Trixie, and she quickly pulls away, keeping her eyes up front.

“That tapping was annoying Trixie,” says Trixie.

The man scoots back clutching his backpack tighter. “Is Trixie your friend?”

“Trixie is me, idiot!”

“Oh... Sorry, I just never heard anybody mention themselves like that before.”

“Obviously.”

The man frowns. “You don't have to be rude.”

Trixie huffs and folds her arms across her chest as she looks down, fighting back another wave of hot tears and a wet lump in her throat. Despite her best efforts, some still break through, and a weak whine leaves her trembling lips while her hands dig into her arms, wondering why the fifty minutes are not over yet or why she even allow the stranger to sit next to her in the first place.

“Why are you crying?” asks the man.

Trixie looks at him out of the corner of her eye and sees that he has slid closer to her, and is now in a mixed state of fear and concern. It is a look that she has seen often, where one stays because of an unspoken obligation, but will run at the first opportunity they feel deserves her abandonment.

“Trixie does not want to talk about it. Especially to a stranger,” says Trixie.

“Okay, then let's start over so we aren't strangers,” says the man gently. He extends his hand to her. “My name is Thunderlane.”

Trixie looks at his hand, and then at his face, and reluctantly grips his, but they keep their hands loose.

“Trixie,” she says as she shakes his hand, but during this she notices something odd about him. Odd as in he looks exactly like the jerk that electrocuted her those hours back and contributed to her terrible night. “Wait a minute, you're the thief!”

“I am?” Thunderlane looks over Trixie, and then his eyes widen when her grip becomes iron and her eyes narrow to slits. “Oh, crap.”