It was 4:51 in the morning and I was having trouble staying asleep. It seemed as if my wife was having something of the same problem, as she’d managed to stir the bed covers not once, but three times in the last five minutes alone.

“Can’t sleep, hun?” I ran a hand along the covers and gripped something far hairier than I’d expected. “Vicky? Are you wearing a sweater to bed?”

I heard a low growl in the darkness. Never a good sign.

“As much as I’d love for you to keep groping me in the safety of the dark, Steve, I actually have some rather important information to share with you.”

Before Sombra had even finished uttering two-thirds of a single word, I’d already drawn back my hand and began rubbing it against the outside of the covers in a thin attempt to try and cleanse it. With my other—less dirty—hand, I fumbled for the bedside lamp and flicked it on.

“Damn it!” The light burned my eyes, but somehow not Sombra’s. His hard red pupils never left mine as he sat facing me on the bed, his completely exposed butt sitting directly where my sleeping wife should’ve been. I didn’t see her anywhere in the room.

“I’ve finally done it, Steve,” Sombra told me with a nod.

“You’ve done what?” Truthfully, I should’ve been more surprised by all this—being startled awake in the middle of the night by a pony and all—but, well, by that point in time I had over a decade with Sombra under my belt and, sadly, found there was very little that could surprise me anymore. Until he said…

“I’ve killed them all.”

I stuck a finger in my ear in an effort to clear it. “Come again?”

“I’ve killed them all. Every single one of them.” He tried for a thin smile. I liked his trademark frown more. Less visible fangs.

“Sombra, why are you where Vicky usually is?” The contents of my stomach had started bouncing around like Sandra Bullock during her time in Gravity. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”

His smile faltered and he narrowed his eyes at me. “You really want to know what I did? You really want to know where she is?”

I already had one hand out, prepared to grab him by the throat, when he finally answered.

“She’s in the bathroom, Steve. I even passed her out in the hall.” He flashed his sharp teeth at me. “As for why I’m here, I already told you: I’ve killed them all.”

When I heard a nearby toilet flush, I breathed a sigh of relief. Still, the way he was drawing this out was making me needlessly tense. “You better not be talking about my sons, Sombra.”

He chuckled a bit. “You mean Sombra Junior and Sombra Junior Mint? They are perfectly fine—most likely sleeping in their warm and cozy beds, crapping their pants like usual. No. They are not the ones I murdered most spectacularly this evening while devouring Funyuns and Mountain Dew.”

I was about to ask if we’d all wind up on the morning news in the next few hours due to whatever he was referring to, but I wanted to clear something up first. “For the last damn time, Sombra, I never named my kids Sombra Junior or Sombra Junior Mint. Those were what we call ‘suggestions.’ Suggestions from a clearly unhinged individual.”

Sombra frowned. Or at least frowned harder than usual. “You should be begging to use such a privileged name, Steve! Every kid in their school would scream out in terror after learning there was a Sombra in their class.” He snorted. “Did you know there’s not a single child or pony named Sombra since you released that stupid book of yours? Thousands of Twilights! Dozens of Discords! But not a single Sombra? What’s wrong with everyone?”

“Maybe parents are worried you’d track their children down Highlander style.”

“What did I tell you about making references I don’t understand?”

I rolled my eyes. “You practically live on a couch and you still haven’t seen Highlander?”

“I happen to take my nap schedule very seriously, Steve! You of all humans should know that! These bedsores aren’t merely for show, you know.”

By this point in time, Sombra and I had unknowingly been closing in on each other. Sombra looked close to snapping my nose off between his teeth, while all I wanted to do was lift him up off the bed by his big pointy ears. We’d formed a rather odd relationship over the years, it seemed.

“You two almost done in here?” my wife asked from the doorway. “I still have to vacuum off my side of the bed before I can get back in.”

This made Sombra smile again. “Come now, Steve. Let me show you the good news.”

I resigned myself. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

I stared at the TV screen for close to a minute and was unsure what I found worse: the overall jolly and congratulatory feel the videogame was trying to convey or the mind-numbingly idiotic way they’d decided to let someone know they had, in fact, killed and mutilated every single player on the map.

In big block letters, the text read: “CONGRATZ, PLAYR SOM-BRO69! U’VE KEELED DEM ALL! SPECIAL EMAIL ANNOUNCEMENT 4TH COMING!” The first two lines constantly dripped virtual blood to the bottom of the screen, splashing and pooling there in horrifically lifelike fashion.

Damn, I thought. The graphics of 2026 are getting scarily realistic. At thirty-five years of age, I could still recall the holiday season when Zelda 64 graphics managed to blow my socks off. I really had no idea what was coming ahead. I thought I’d better pick up sturdier socks.

Sombra took the time to grab his well-worn controller to showcase the wide-open and wholly decimated battlefield. He explained with visible glee, “The original game doesn’t let you peel the skin off corpses, so I had to download a cheat code. Once I collect ninety-nine of them, I’ve been told I can craft a new suit made entirely out of other players’ skins. I think it’s called ‘The Birthday Suit.’ Anyways, from what I understand the defense rate on it is terrible, but the fear it induces in others more than makes up for it.”

Sitting down on the couch—or Sombra’s couch, if one wanted to get technical about it—I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “This is what you wanted to show me? Death and dismemberment? Again?”

“But I’m really good at it! Ask anyone!” He had to think on that. “Actually, it might be better if you didn’t… on account that they’re all dead. But look, Steve! Look!”

“I did look, Sombra,” I informed him thickly. “I came, I saw, I looked, and now I’m going back to bed. Good night, sleep tight, and stop using your horn to pick the lock on my door. I don’t like to bring up my well-stocked bank account all that much, but you and I both know I could hire a team of two-hundred pound body guards whose sole job is to keep you away from me. I’m sure if I gave them a big enough cash incentive I could even convince them to poke your nose in an annoying manner while saying ‘Boop.’ Only if I was in a spiteful mood, of course.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

I felt a small patch of magic shove me back against the couch as Sombra swiftly exited the living room, headed toward the kitchen; his hooves clicked across linoleum before returning to soft carpet again. He set his personal laptop open in front of me.

“I got an invitation! A real one! They want me to participate and everything!” Sombra’s features softened and his tail began wagging behind him. The sight would’ve almost been cute. If we hadn’t done that whole ‘Birthday Suit’ bit only seconds prior.

“An invitation to what exactly?” I asked him.

“A videogame competition. And they’re only inviting the absolute best players and they’ve decided that I’m one of them.”

Before I could finish skimming the open email on the laptop, he snapped it shut and awkwardly climbed his way onto the empty section of the couch next to me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t momentarily hit with a bad case of nostalgia. For the life of me, I couldn’t recall the last time we’d sat on the same couch together.

Sombra continued on in a hushed tone, “It’s going to be located in the place called Last Vegan; I assume that’s where the last vegan lives. If we’re lucky, we could still have time during our trip to track them down and stuff steak down their throat. Rare and bloody, of course. They may be fools beyond comprehension, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve good steak to choke upon.”

It took little time for me to de-Sombra what he’d said. Or what he’d meant to say, I guess. “You must mean Las Vegas. There’s a videogame competition there? Just how popular is this video game community of yours?”

He turned to me. “You know the actor Michael Fassbender?”

“He plays your videogame, too?”

Sombra barked out a laugh. “He did. But let’s just say he didn’t take it very well when I made him beg for his life before shoving a grenade down his pants. I’ve never heard anyone swear so eloquently after getting their testicles blown off.”

With a hand, I roughly jiggled my fingers around his mane, making sure to stir it up enough so that clumps would stick out in all directions. If there was one thing Sombra hated most of all, it was messy hair. And alicorns. And draconequi. But mostly messy hair.

“Knock it off, Steve!” Sombra slid as far away from me as he could and retrieved a hairbrush from some unseen crevice on the couch. He then ran it through his mane with more flourish and grace than even the most flamboyant of hairdressers could. “Here I am being all serious and all you’re doing is—”

I held my hands up in a calming gesture. “Fine, fine, King Messy Mane. I’ll play along for a little while longer. Just what does this invite thing have to do with me? Or you, for that matter? You’re actually planning on attending this thing?”

“Of course!” He looked almost hurt by that. “I have to show these other fatties and nerds—”

“I’m sure they’ll just love being called that.”

Sombra growled and tried again. “I have to show these other pleasantly plump and highly academic individuals just who the best mass murderer is! It’s been too long since King Sombra has shown the world his true killing abilities! So what better way to show them that than by sticking a well-lubed virtual chainsaw up their individual anuses and letting it rip?”

I chuckled. Once in a Luna-colored moon he did actually say something mildly amusing. “You ever thought about writing Hallmark cards with that silver tongue of yours?”

He scowled up at me. “Not really. You ever give any thought about not being so sarcastic and condescending all the time, Steve?”

“I would, but I’m afraid I’d go into withdrawal.”

With a hoof, Sombra prodded at an ear. “Sorry, what was that? I had a feeling you were going to say some ‘witty’ retort in return, so I tuned you out on instinct; witty in quotes, for the record. Truth be told, Steve, you’re about as humorous as dry toast if dry toast came in Steve-flavor.”

Before I could ask him to elaborate on his Steve-toast taunt, Sombra leapt from the couch and stood before me, lifting both brows. “So what do you say, Steve? Are you in or are you out? We have to get moving if we are to get there on time, so I’ll need an answer now. So chop-chop. Posthaste. No dilly-dallying allowed.”

“But I still don’t even know what the question is!” I told him tiredly. “Explain that to me first.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “I want you to drive me to the videogame competition. I want to attend and kill everyone that stands in my way. Virtually, at least. That is what I want you to do. Be my obedient human driver.”

“When is it?”

He gazed at the carpet for a moment, seemingly in thought. “In three days. At… noon, I think the email said.”

“Then what’s the hurry? Vegas is only five hours away by car. We could leave early on the day of the event and still have an hour left to check in.”

“I… umm…” Sombra looked stumped by that. “They… they want you to check in early if you can—days early. Has to do with seating arrangements, I think.” His jaw opened and closed wordlessly as he continued to think. “Also, they give you practice time if you get there early… different controllers and all. But I’m sure if we left in the next hour, we’d have more than enough time to get set up and get ready. I’m sure of it.”

I tapped my fingers on the couch’s armrest. “Could Taylor take you instead?”

The way his mouth popped open and hung close to the floor, it was like I’d asked him to give me a couple of the fries that came with his McDonald’s meal.

Irritated, I exhaled sharply. “What’s so wrong with Taylor?”

“He’s your cousin from Canada!” Sombra spat, as if that was answer enough.

“Elaborate.”

Sombra had to find the right words to continue. “He’s just weird, okay? He’s like… oddly friendly and nice. And I don’t like it! There’s no back-and-forth between us. I don’t even think he can get angry or irritated. You insult him right to his face and all he says is ‘Ain’t that the truth!’ and then chuckles like an idiot.” He pursed his lips and glanced at his hooves. “Although, I really shouldn’t be saying anything terrible about him behind his back… because he did take me to that laser arcade once and bought me an ice cream afterwards. And he does have this amazing way of scratching my ears that makes me momentarily forget how much I hate everything and everyone around me. Including Canadians.”

Sombra briskly shook himself back to normal. “I don’t care if your cousin’s available or not, Steve; I don’t want him coming along. I want you to drive me there. You owe me, remember? Remember?”

“Are you referring to that one time you found my credit card underneath the couch?”

“Yes.”

“The same credit card you stole?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that I did return it to you.”

I leaned back into the couch with a sigh, resting my head on the backrest. There was probably some excuse I could come up with right then and there that would shut this whole thing down before it got any further, but sadly I was still much too sleep deprived for very rational thought. Such was the life of a retired multimillionaire: two kids, a wife, the body of an out of shape mid-thirties male, and a talking pet pony that would never die nor do the world a favor and shut his trap already.

Could I let him go on his own? Stick him on a bus with a ticket and send him on his way?

I could see the news reports already. It would make what happened to Tim McLean seem like… actually, I won’t go there. Nevertheless, Sombra would most likely derail the bus the moment he got his packet of peanuts and couldn’t properly open them with his hooves. This I knew from experience. That’s why Sombra gets all his salty and sweet treats pre-opened and ready to go the moment they enter the household. I’m sure if someone would agree to pre-chew his food, he’d sign up for that posthaste.

After what felt like a very long moment of deliberation, I said something that I assume all husbands must mutter aloud sometime or later. “Let me check with the wife first.”

“I have no problems with it,” Vicky said as she strolled around the bedroom. “Just don’t let Sombra talk you into doing anything illegal. Or stupid.”

I let out a lone grunt in response. I had a feeling Vicky had been half-joking, half-serious when she replied, but to me it felt entirely plausible. Sombra always had been the harbinger of his own misfortune… along with every poor soul in the close vicinity.

A black hole of misery, I reflected helplessly. Sucking the life out of normal nearby planets while simultaneously throwing them hopelessly out of orbit.

“Doesn’t kindergarten start soon?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I be around for that?”

While Vicky made up the bed, she glared at me. “It’s June, Steve. And the kids have another year until they’re old enough for school. What’s the big deal, though? It’s a three day trip to Vegas of all places! You can’t even look forward to that?” She pulled the bed sheets up and tossed on the half-dozen pillows that sat overtop of them. Why we had so many unused throw pillows, I’ll never know. “It might be good for you; get out of the house for once. I know you’re not the biggest fan of public life after that book of yours exploded, but… maybe people have forgotten about you a bit?”

The thought was nice, but highly unlikely; not when you were the only human in history to transport millions of talking ponies to Earth so they wouldn’t be snuffed out of existence. Over the years I’d gotten enough random hugs and nasty insults yelled at me to understand the ups and downs involved with my notoriety. Maybe I’d start combing my hair differently. Better yet, maybe I’d start wearing a hat.

“But… Sombra… in a car… five hours… with me trapped inside…” My argumentative skills had all but reduced to caveman-style gibberish.

Vicky sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her. I sat down and let her speak.

“You keep thinking about yourself, Steve, but maybe put yourself in Sombra’s place for a moment. What has he actually done since getting back from Equestria? Besides sit on your couch and eat all our leftover pizza and beer? During that time you married me and had two wonderful children—things that take up time. Haven’t you noticed how little time you even spend with Sombra anymore? You two used to be close—like scarily close—but that’s sort of come to an end recently.”

It didn’t take a purple smart alicorn to see where she was heading with this. “You think Sombra wants to spend more time with me. That’s why he wants to go on a trip together. Just the two of us.”

Vicky nodded. “Sounds like it.” Then she bit her bottom lip. “This trip could also be beneficial to us, you know. You could always talk to Sombra about his plans for life, however unexciting they may be.”

“You mean like getting him a partner? Getting him out of our hair?”

“Maybe. If that’s what it takes to get him off our couch and out of our house one day. If you’re not willing to give Sombra some loose boundaries, there’s a good chance he could remain in this house until he outlives us both. All the while sleeping on that ratty old couch of yours.”

I chuckled. The notion was both horrifying and completely conceivable at the same time. Sombra standing over my deathbed with a puffy pillow in his hooves—right before he performs the nasty deed in question, he whispers to me, ‘Tell me where the extra potato chips are, Steve, and I’ll let you go quietly’ before he holds the pillow over my wrinkly ancient face.

“You know what the hard part is?” I asked Vicky playfully. “Getting a partner to agree to a couple of minutes with Sombra alone without trying to leap out the nearest window.”

“Then make sure Sombra’s date is on the first floor of the building.”

We both laughed. Then we kissed. Then I sighed bitterly.

“Maybe the weather will be crap and force us to cancel.”

Nope. As soon as I flipped on the bedroom TV and turned to the weather channel, all I could see were pictures of bright shimmering suns and a scant few clouds in the Nevada area, plus a short news blip about some comet or meteoroid passing nearby. I was sure if my life had been written by Marquis De Sade up until that point, the comet in question would be landing on my head soon. One could only hope.

The door to the room nudged open and Sombra stuck his oversized head in. “Are we going or not, Steve?”

I turned to him with the largest smile I could muster. “We’re heading to Vegas, baby!”

His forehead creased. “I’m not an infant, Steve. I’m one thousand and eighty-five years old.”

Already we were off to a great start. Next Chapter: Chapter 2: The Road Estimated time remaining: 34 Minutes