The sun was already setting, painting the sky bloody red. Aria emerged from the sea slowly, looking at her body. It had lost most of the traits it had when she was chasing fish people. She now looked like a normal human girl, using her lungs to breathe, and most certainly not having teeth that could rip anyone to shreds.

She stood on the beach, waiting for the wind to dry her. Unfortunately for her, her clothes didn’t survive her transformation and the fights she’d gotten into, so she looked like a particularly big fan of skinny dipping. It also meant that Aria had to improvise.

She looked around. At this time of day, there was almost no one there, but after a while she spotted two guys sitting near the boulevard and drinking something from a bottle hidden in a brown paper bag. Aria smirked and started sneaking to them.

“While Schopenhauer was fascinated with Kant, his own philosophy is somewhat a complete opposite of it,” the taller of the guys said to his chubby friend. “On the other hand, Nietzsche, although brilliant–”

“Excuse me,” Aria said. “I need your clothes, your boots–”

“We don’t have a motorcycle,” the shorter guy replied. Aria was pretty sure she’d seen the both in school. The taller one was weirdly fascinated with snails.

“Holy shit, terminator!” the taller guy exclaimed. “We don’t know this guy that will defeat Skynet in the future, we swear!”

“Oh, shut up,” Aria muttered. “I’ll just borrow your clothes and give them back later.”

“We don’t help killers from the future,” the taller guy said.

Aria sighed. “Okay, we’ll do this the hard way…”

Three minutes later, Aria was walking down the narrow street wearing cargo trousers and a black t-shirt with “Cynicism, Nihilism, Sarcasm and Orgasm” written in the front. She also had a pair of sneakers; while the tall guy had big feet, it turned out that his friend just happened to wear her size.

Aria hissed. She didn’t steal the guys’ underwear, and only beat them enough to take off their clothes. Not because she was kind-hearted. She was simply getting tired and hungry.

Luckily for her, she spotted an open restaurant, mostly likely waiting for stoners going back from parties. She smirked and walked inside.

“Coriander,” she said, seeing the restaurant’s owner sweeping the floor. He smiled; Aria was one of his best clients. “Make me ten bowls of chicken tikka masala. That’ll be a good start.”

“Sure,” Coriander replied, already counting the income. “Something else, Ms. Blaze?”

“Can I make a phone call?” Aria asked. “Some dick stole my phone.”

“Saffron will borrow you hers,” Coriander replied and walked to the kitchen. Soon, his daughter put her phone on Aria’s table. Aria suddenly remembered that she didn’t know Adagio or Sonata’s number, relying on her phone’s memory. Unfortunately, her phone was now somewhere on the bottom of the sea.

“Don’t worry,” Saffron said. “Sonata gave me her number once. She apparently thinks it’s us who call her when she wants to order something.”

“Ah, of course.” Aria shook her head and grabbed the phone.

Since Aria was killed, nothing ever was the same in the Siren’s household. Their days used to be filled with plotting the new ways to regain powers and take over the world. They used to travel, remembering the old days of past glory. Now all that was left were cheap whisky and crappy telly.

“Now, to go into a story, you have to say the magic words: entra Al cuento.”

“Entra Al cuento,” Sonata repeated in a slurry manner – quite understandable given that she’d drunk enough whisky to kill half of the show’s target demographic.

“I’d entra her cuento if she wasn’t underage.” Adagio hiccuped. “But at least now I know why you know Spanish…”

Sonata nearly slid off the couch, guffawing and spilling her whisky everywhere. “Thwiper, thtop thwiping!”

“I mean, that’s so retarded.” Adagio sighed. “They should’ve shot your ass instead of Aria.” She took a sip of her whisky and shook her head. “What have we become, Sonata?”

She didn’t get to hear any coherent reply. Instead, she heard the first tones of some sweet pop tune. The cogwheels in her head moved slowly, identifying the melody as Sonata’s ringtone.

Staggering across the room, Adagio reached the phone lying on the chest of drawers next to the door and picked it up, resting herself against the wall. “The person you’re trying to call is too drunk to make it to the toilet, not to mention any sensible conversation. Please, try again later.” She slid on the floor and put the phone away next to her.

A second later, the phone called again. Adagio sighed and picked it up.

“Adagio, you shit-faced offspring of a mangy jackal and a diseased fish cunt, what in the name of fuck are you doing?”

“A-aria?” Adagio asked. “We’re kinda busy mourning your death. Could you call tomorrow?”

“I’m not dead, you degenerate moron!” Aria shouted loud enough for Sonata to hear her. “I’m at Coriander Cumin’s place, stuffing myself with chicken tikka masala. Get your lazy ass over here and pick me up. I’m tired of walking.”

“We’re d-drunk and Sonata doesn’t have a licence anyway…” Adagio muttered. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go back o-on your own.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Aria replied, ending the call.

“What’th up?” Sonata asked.

“Aria’s alive.”

“What?” Suddenly, Sonata stood up, apparently completely sober. She groaned and rolled her eyes, then she opened the basement door. Adagio heard some inhuman screams as Sonata walked downstairs.

A few minutes later, Sonata came back, dragging Sour Sweet with her. The yellow girl’s clothes were torn and dirty, she smelled of sweat and feces, and her big eyes were empty and lifeless. When Sonata released her, she dropped limply to the floor, shuddering.

“Can you believe it?” Sonata asked. “I made her watch Star Wars Holiday Special on repeat for nothing!”

Twist waited.

Standing on the roof, she was looking at the dark window of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon’s love nest. So far, they didn’t show up, but Twist waited anyway. Her face was hidden behind a silk mask and she spent quite a while hiding her mane under a hood. Her pockets were filled with knives and shurikens. A bokken was hanging from her back.

Twist smirked. Even if they didn’t show up, they had no chance to avoid her wrath. Even if everything else failed, they still had her blue pills.

Bon Bon never suspected anything. Over time, Twist made a few changes in the chemical structure of the pills and now the trip could as well end up in the better world, without a return ticket. Also, prolonged exposure usually resulted in infertility, something Twist was especially proud of. In twenty years, everyone weak-minded enough to take drugs would remove their genes from the pool.

Twist waited. She knew that her plan wouldn’t automatically make the world a better place, but that was an important step. There were many more of them on the way, but she was prepared for this.

That was what the red pills were for.

Aria groaned and kicked an empty can down the pavement. After eating twenty bowls of chicken tikka masala she realised that she’d spent all the money she found in the wallet of the guy who, after some persuasion, generously gave her his clothes. She looked at the clock in the bar. There was an hour till the next night bus and Aria didn’t feel like going home by foot. However, it seemed that she had no choice – she didn’t have money for a cab, not to mention that cab drivers looked at her askew since she’d punched one across the street.

Cursing under her breath, Aria walked out of the bar and went down the pavement. There was no one in the streets; only an old newspaper rolled on the concrete carried by the wind. A fish person was hiding behind the trash cans, but he ran away, smelling Aria.

Suddenly, Aria heard the sound of a car engine somewhere behind her. She turned, hoping that it’d be those two girls who shot her. Nothing made her feel better like a bloody murder, and those two definitely deserved it.

However, it was a different car; Aria thought that it was something similar to the one she drove in Germany before unstable political climate forced her to run away. She shrugged and waved her hand at the car, sticking out her thumb. After all, the driver couldn’t be worse than her. Even though Aria walked through the valley of the shadow of death, she feared no evil because she was the most psychotic individual there.

To her surprise the car stopped. One of the windows opened and when Aria looked inside, she saw Sunset Shimmer sitting next to the driver.

“Siren girl, huh?” Sunset asked. “Do you need a lift?”

“Kinda,” Aria replied, fighting the urge to toss the car into the air. With her stomach stuffed with chicken, she probably wouldn’t be able to do that anyway. “Do you go to the centre, by any chance?”

“Sure.” Sunset opened the door and got out to let Aria in. To her surprise, she saw that the Volkswagen was full of people. Behind the wheel, there was a girl Aria recalled from Battle of the Bands as the leader of Trixie and The Illusions. She took a wild guess that her name was Trixie.

Aria sat next to an orange, hyperactive girl sitting in the middle of the backseat, near a grim, unshaved man with several tattoos. After a while of looking at him, Aria remembered a band called Flash Drive. It didn’t take her long to figure his name out.

“Okay, does anyone has any idea where else Twilight can be?” Sunset asked. It seemed that Aria’s appearance interrupted a long conversation, if only for a while.

“Everyone has that place where they are alone and they feel safe,” Flash muttered in a gravy voice. “I wish I was in my cell.”

“Dude’s right,” the small girl said. “How about Crystal Prep?”

“Been there,” Sunset replied. “No trace of Twilight.”

“Yeah.” Trixie nodded. “We tried to check all those fingerprints on the walls, but none of them belong to her.”

“Canterlot High?”

“The janitor thought we were fish people,” Sunset replied.

“Another couple of shotgun holes in the back of Trixie’s car,” Trixie muttered.

“Twilight?” Aria asked. “You mean that purple nerd?”

Suddenly, she was grabbed by the orange girl, who pulled her towards herself until their noses almost touched. “You know something about her, fish girl, don’t you?”

“N-no,” Aria muttered. “I mean, she might be in a nuthouse for all we know. About time.”

“Nuthouse!” Trixie exclaimed. “We didn’t check there!”

“No.” Sunset shuddered. “Anything but the nuthouse…”

“Sounds fine to me,” Flash whispered. “It’s small and you are locked there. Life is so simple…”

“Hold me, or I’ll whack him with something.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “Sentry, stop behaving like you were in prison for all your life and you’re about to record a rap album about that! Do you want to play rap?”

“No!” Flash exclaimed, suddenly sounding much clearer than before. “Anything but golden chains and sagging pants!”

“Knew it,” Sunset muttered. “He has a phobia. That’s one of his weirdest traits, along with calling his dick–”

“– Mini Sentry?”

“Scootaloo!” Sunset exclaimed, her face bright red.

“Am I the only one person in this car who didn’t sleep with him?” Trixie asked. "Trixie doesn't count the doll, of course."

“No, I didn’t either,” Aria muttered, currently rethinking her life choices.

“You don’t count,” Scootaloo said. “You’re more fishy than my cunt after my shower broke.”

“Racist,” Aria replied. “Also, fish people and sirens are not the same thing, moron. We’re higher in the food chain.”

“Really?” Sunset muttered. “You could help us by eating some of them.”

“I’m already full.” Aria patted her stomach and burped.

“Anyway, Trixie would like to come back to the topic of the nuthouse,” Trixie said. “Why don’t we go there?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Sunset muttered. “That’s not something I’m proud of.”

“We all did something we’re not proud of!” Scootaloo exclaimed, pointing at Flash. “Like, I did him, he did me, and Aria’s a siren.”

“I can break her hand,” Aria muttered.

“I think we should go to the nuthouse,” Flash said. “What else can we do? Drive around the town till we run out of fuel?”

“We can’t.” Sunset shrugged. “We don’t know if she’s really there, and I’d rather not break in there without knowing that first.”

“No problem, dude.” Scootaloo produced her phone. “Let’s see if I have the number… Oh, there it is.”

“Who is she calling?” Aria asked. “Besides, I think we’ll be on my street soon.”

“Wiz Kid?” Scootaloo asked. “Hello, dude. What’s up? Video games? With Scribble Dee? What happened to her bae? Beaten by sirens? Coolio. Listen, gotta drop at your place with a few homies. Need to take a look at some top secret data. No, not NSA again. Something easier, dude. I’ll pay with blowjobs. Yeah? Awesome, dude. Yeah, gnarly. In a while, crocodile.” She put the phone down. “Good news, friends. I found a solution.”

Aria really wanted to know what the solution would exactly be, but then she saw that they were near her house. She patted Trixie’s back, saying, “Gotta leave you here.”

“Sure thing,” Trixie replied, stopping the car near the curb. “Trixie hopes you’re happy with our services.”

“Services, yes,” Aria muttered, opening the door. “Company, not so much.”

“We love you too,” Sunset replied. The car drove away, leaving Aria on the pavement, accompanied only by some girl whose name Aria couldn’t remember. The girl was resting herself against the wall and when Aria approached her, she noticed that she was wearing Sonata’s spare clothes.

“Who are you?” Aria asked.

“I was held in a basement by some freaks!” the girl exclaimed. “And they did…” She shuddered. “Then they got a phone call, let me out, let me take a shower, and gave me clean clothes. But they’re still fucking psychos!”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” Aria replied, walking to the door.

“Oh you will?” The girl smiled. “They need to be put in prison to be fucked by chicks with dicks forever!”

“That wouldn’t be wise,” Aria replied. “I can’t pay the rent myself.” She rushed upstairs, away from the girl.

As soon as she got to her flat, she was greeted by Sonata who tackled her to the ground. Aria barely managed to hold the chicken in her stomach – sobering or not, Sonata still reeked of alcohol, not to mention that she sat on Aria.

“Get off me!” Aria smacked Sonata, sending her at the wall.

“Good to have you back!” Sonata exclaimed.

“So, you regenerated in seawater,” Adagio said. Unlike Sonata, she seemed sober, although Aria was pretty sure that if she stood up, she’d stagger a lot. “Do you know what it means?”

“We still have some of our powers!” Sonata shouted. “If we learn to use them again, we’ll take over this town, and start turning it into ruins, until they promise to let us eat fast food for free.”

Aria sighed. “We may want to start in some other town. Preferably a hundred miles away from the ocean.”

“Who so?” Adagio asked. “This one is perfect.”

“Except it has fish people,” Aria replied. “I saw them and even ate some of them. They’re exactly like the good old fish ponies from our home universe.”

Sonata shuddered. “How did they get here?”

“Fuck me if I know.” Aria shrugged. “No, Sonata! I don’t know!”

“Aww…” Sonata pulled her skirt back up.

Adagio looked at the wall, thinking, and frowned. “So you mean that–”

“Yes,” Aria replied. “And when The Mother of All the Fish People is awoken, we will wish we were screwed…”

“So, Wiz Kid,” Scootaloo said as they parked in front of a large house in the suburbs. “You’d never say, but the guy did most of the chicks in class. And some guys.”

“Do you always describe people by how many partners they had?” Flash asked, getting out of the car and looking around.

“Not always,” Scootaloo replied, smiling at Flash. “Number forty-eight.”

“Damn,” Flash muttered. “Gotta get tested or something.”

“What number was I?” Scootaloo asked. “One? Two?”

“Three,” Flash deadpanned, walking to the door and knocking. “But for Sunset, I was the number one.”

“You do realise that doesn’t cover Equestria?” Sunset asked. “There was a time when I really disregarded Princess Celestia’s teachings. In all matters.”

“What was in Equestria, stays in Equestria.” Flash knocked again. “You said the guy was playing video games with some chick?”

“She may be playing with his joystick by now.” Scootaloo chuckled. “Trixie, how about you? Who did you show the tricks up your sleeve?”

“Trixie is waiting for the one and only,” Trixie replied. “Though we’re really close with the girls from the band.”

“And his name shall be, ‘Trixie’s Hand’.” Scootaloo shook her head and banged at the window. “Wiz Kid! What the hell are you doing in there?”

A few seconds later, the door opened. “Sorry, guys, that was our only chance to own Button Mash’s ass,” a short, brown-haired boy said. “Hello, Scootaloo’s friends. I’m Wiz Kid and I’m gonna be your guide.”

The followed him to his room. When Sunset entered it, she immediately thought of ancient temples Daring Do often visited. This one seemed to be inhabited by some weird cult, worshipping action figures, toys, books, computer games, comic books, and all the related merchandise. In the middle of all that, a short, orange-haired girl in thick glasses was sitting, her eyes focused on one of the laptops.

“Are those Trixie and The Illusions body pillows?” Trixie asked.

Wiz Kid chuckled, blushing. “Yeah… Well…”

“Trixie owns seven.”

“Really?” Wiz Kid exclaimed. “Could you sign it for me?”

“Of course.” Trixie produced a marker from her pocket and signed a body pillow of herself. She then sat on Wiz Kid’s bed, next to Sunset and Flash.

“How’s life going?” Scootaloo asked. “Still with Starlight?”

“She texted me that they arrested her,” Wiz Kid replied. “Someone sent the police her photo with an assault rifle. Did you hear about that?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No.”

“Of course not,” Flash muttered. “So, you two…”

“No, we just play games,” Scribble Dee said. “Microchip needs me. Anyway, you wanted something.”

“Yeah,” Sunset replied. “I’ve heard you can check where Twilight Sparkle is.”

“You have to hack the computer system of the mental hospital,” Trixie said, yawning. “Guess we’ll have to crash in here. If it takes long…”

Wiz Kid laughed. “You must be joking!”

“You can’t do that?” Sunset asked. “Just great…”

“No.” Wiz Kid sat at his laptop and banged at the keys. “It’s a hospital. Their safety measures are not exactly rocket science. And before you ask, Scribble Dee and I once took over a Mars rover.” He chuckled. “If you ever hear about someone discovering ‘eat shit’ written on the surface of Mars, it was us.” He clicked a few more keys. Sunset took a peek at the screen, but all she saw were several lines of code flashing quickly.

“It shouldn’t take long.” Wiz Kid said.

“What exactly are you doing?” Flash asked, looking at the screen.

“Exploiting a backdoor in this version of their antivirus. You know how people never update anything?” Wiz Kid wrote some more code and the computer chirped. A dialog box labelled “Insert patient’s name” appeared on the screen. “There you go. All your base are belong to us.”

“So, can you check Twilight Sparkle for us?” Sunset asked. “S-P-A-R-K-L-E.”

Wiz Kid typed the name. The computer hummed for a moment before beeping.

“One result,” Trixie said. “Twilight Sparkle, admitted five days ago, initial diagnosis: F16.10, uncomplicated use of hallucinogens, further diagnosis: E44.1, F41.1, F20.9, whatever that means… Lives in the room 101 with… Sunset Shimmer?”

“What?” Sunset moved away from Trixie, almost hiding in the corner of the room.

“Well…” Trixie scratched her head. “Didn’t you say that everyone has a counterpart in your world?”

“Yes?” Sunset muttered.

“How come we’ve never seen yours, then?” Flash asked.

“I saw her,” Trixie said. “We were in kindergarten together.”

“We did?” Sunset raised her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, she wasn’t such a douchebagel as you used to be,” Trixie replied. “One could say she was a cinnamon roll, kinda.”

“Stop those half-baked metaphors,” Sunset muttered. “I was bad when I came here, but she was on her way to the nuthouse anyway. I just pushed a few buttons, metaphorically speaking.”

“Just like with Twilight?” Scootaloo asked.

“What?” Sunset exclaimed. “No, not like with Twilight. It’s like–”

“You must admit that sending people to the asylum is your thing,” Trixie muttered. “And that poor girl is sitting there with Twilight for what, years?”

“Poor girl?” Sunset asked. “Last time we met, she thought I was her hallucination, grabbed a shotgun and started shooting at me. Do you know where I have a scar?”

“On your butt,” Flash muttered. “Also, can you stop arguing like old women? If I recall correctly, we have a mission or something.”

“Sexist dick,” Scootaloo said.

“In a case of the solidarity of testicles, I must say that you should move on to the plan.” Wiz Kid turned away from the laptop. “If you plan to bust her out, maybe you’ll need the plans of the hospital?”

“Yes, please,” Sunset muttered. “And I certainly don’t have a habit of making people I don’t like crazy.”

“You don’t like Twilight, then?” Scootaloo asked.

“I most certainly didn’t say that,” Sunset replied. “I like this little piece of issues and it’s most certainly not my fault that–”

Flash cleared his throat. “From what I’ve heard, it is kinda your fault. And Scootaloo’s.”

“No one asked for your opinion, you unnecessary addition to a dick.”

“Now that was sexist.” Wiz Kid shrugged and banged on the keys of his laptop. “So, I got you the plans of the hospital, the schedule of its staff, and I now have a direct access to electrical grid in their area. I can switch off all the lights, if you want, but only for about a minute before the emergency generators kick in.” He smirked. “Normally, I charge a thousand dollars for that, but as for you, I can get down to seven hundred.”

“What if we don’t pay?” Trixie asked.

“Scribble!” Wiz Kid exclaimed. Trixie noticed that the redhead disappeared from the room a while ago.

“Yes?” Scribble Dee opened the door, carrying a machete and a hacksaw. “Ah, they don’t want to pay.” She pointed the machete at Flash. “So, we’ll start with castrating this guy, okay?”

“We can hold him for you,” Sunset said.

“I wonder if there’s anyone in this town who doesn’t have murderous tendencies,” Scootaloo muttered.

“Fat chance,” Trixie said.

“Funny it’s you who say that.” Scootaloo chuckled. Suddenly, she found herself tackled by Scribble Dee, with the machete dangerously close to her throat.

“Altering the deal now, huh?” Sunset shook her head.

“Pray she doesn’t alter it any further,” Flash replied. “Okay, I have twenty dollars. How about you?”

“You’d better have money,” Scribble Dee muttered, making the biggest puppy eyes she could muster. “Because I never ever killed anyone in my life and I’m not sure if I could, and I’d rather not try. Especially not with Scootaloo…”

“Umm… thanks?” Scootaloo muttered. “I think I should have a hundred or so. If you let me use my phone, I can pay you digitally.”

“Not necessary,” Trixie said. “Trixie magicked someone’s wallet on her way here.” She produced a wallet from her pocket. “Let’s see… a condom, about five dollars, a photo of some faggot…”

“That’s my wallet,” Wiz Kid muttered, blushing. “And Curly Winds is my friend.”

“So, I’ll better pay,” Scootaloo said, producing her phone. “You all owe me.”

After all the formalities, they sat at the table with the printed plan of the hospital in front of them, while Wiz Kid brought them some late-night snack. In this case it was olives, baguettes, pickled cucumbers, and several kinds of cheese and lunch meat.

“Thanks for the meat,” Sunset muttered, grabbing a baguette. “Some of my best friends were cows.”

“Some of my friends are pigs, but I don’t care,” Scootaloo muttered, grabbing a slice of salami. “Hmm, is it made of horse?”

“I’d rather refrain from answering,” Wiz Kid said, seeing the look on Sunset’s face. “So, how are you going to get in there?”

“Dunno,” Flash replied. “How about the air vents?”

“It says here that they’re three hundred milimetres wide and just as tall,” Sunset replied.

“So, Trixie won’t push her ass through it.” Scootaloo chuckled.

“It’s about a foot wide,” Sunset replied. “I knew guys who wouldn’t manage to fit their dicks in there.”

Flash and Wiz Kid looked at their crotches, then at each other, both of them shuddering.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Come on guys… I meant back in Equestria.”

Flash and Wiz Kid sighed with relief.

“Forget the vents,” Trixie said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has a better idea…”

Author's Notes:

Twilight's diagnosis is described in ICD-10 codes. There's one for everything, from A09 (diarrhea) to V95.42XA

Also, apparently Sour Sweet was at first supposed to be tickled by Sonata, but watching Star Wars Holiday Special on repeat was more cruel (the Skype logs also mention "Ramsay Bolton treatment").