The metro entrance was spiderwebby. Tarnish—who held his wrench close in much the same way Maud clung to Pebble—carefully surveyed the webs he saw. They were glittery, glowed with a faint light of their own, and there was something rather peculiar about them. Something… unnatural. Beside him, Vinyl was rearranging her many guns—all ten of them. Daring Do was still sulking, still upset, bothered by the fact that these ancient weapons from eons ago were still in fine condition.

As for Rainbow Dash, she was blowing spit bubbles to amuse herself.

“Since we’re going to be in a tunnel, we’ll face danger from at least two directions,” said Tarnish to his companions. “So, Rainbow, Daring, one of you up front, one of you in back. Put those keen ears to work. Vinyl has already muffled our hooves, so we won’t make much noise. Maybe if we’re quiet, we’ll avoid trouble altogether.”

“Keep an eye on the ceilings, too.” Daring Do cast a sidelong glance at Vinyl, and then tilted her head back to look up at Tarnish. “It’s good to see you taking charge… even if I am bothered by what is motivating you. I am fearful of what I do not understand.”

Lacking words, Tarnish nodded.

At one time, this had been a quaint little residential neighborhood, with quaint little apartments, a few quaint little store fronts, that had a tiny little police station that didn’t even have a jail. It even had easy access to the metro, a must have for any city-dweller. It was, by all accounts, an ideal place to live—except that now, it was infested with spiders, roamers, and who-knew-what.

Tarnish, druid though he was, had an almost irrational hatred of spiderkind.

Once, during a rather boring diplomatic dinner, he and Princess Celestia had slipped away for a bit of a stimulating chit-chat, and by sheer happenstance, the conversation had turned to spiders. In private, she had told him her opinion of spiders, and as he was about to enter into a spider-infested Tartarus, he could not help but think of her blunt words.

Fuck spiders, she had told him.

“Are we really going to do this?” asked Rainbow Dash, her lips still damp and darkened from her spit bubble blowing.

“Oh, we are,” replied Daring Do, whose hackles had already risen for the occasion.

“Above ground, spiders aren’t so bad. I can fly away from them.”

“But we’re currently underground, Rainbow, and we can’t fly.”

“I know,” was Rainbow’s whimpered reply.

Tossing her head about, Daring Do whinnied and then said to her companions, “Steady on.”

Standing in the doorway, Tarnish waited for his eyes to adjust to the encroaching gloom. It was dark, dusty, and cobwebby beyond belief. The first thing he saw was a magazine rack, and this caused him a dizzy sense of disorientation; the rack was very much like any other magazine rack that one might find in a bookstore, newspaper stand, or metro. This one showed signs of rust, though not very much. By now, it should have rusted and crumbled into red dust.

The magazine rack stood at the end of an island counter, a simple, solid thing made from carved stone. Trash covered the floor, old bones, webbing, old spider legs, the detritus of the ages. In the corner, there was a vending machine, its glass was broken, and it appeared empty. At one point, the world must have been a bright, wonderful place, full of marvels, and astonishing technology. But the world had fallen down a long ways, right back into neolithic primitivism, and was only now recovering.

When his eyes fell upon the descending stairs, a large lump slithered up the back of his throat.

“As a Professor of Sophontology and of Xenoglyphs, I would love to study the words on the wall, but we don’t have time. Sure, we have those glasses, but I’d like to study the words just as they are. Look at this place. It’s a time capsule. I don’t even know what language that is.”

Squinting in the near-darkness, Tarnish had himself a better look at the wall. There were letters, words, sayings, and what had once been a beautiful mural. Now, it was faded, a ghost of what once was, but the words were still legible. Curious, also a worker in academia, he pulled out the glasses, slipped them over his eyes, and then waited for the language to shift.

For his companion’s benefit, he read what he saw aloud: “Reality Fabrication: building a better tomorrow, everywhere.” Then, near the bottom of the mural, there was more. “Remember your four Cornerstones of Reality: The Lightbringer, The Dreamwalker, The Hopebringer, and The Lawbringer.”

Lips pursed, Tarnish had a good think about what he had just read.

“Imagine, you’re a worker in a foundry that produces reality. Your job is boring, and you read the paper when you commute to work every morning. At the end of the day, you come home to a rather smallish apartment and spend time with your family. Or maybe you go out to eat at that little place on corner.” Daring Do’s words dripped an uncharacteristic acerbic venom and she sneered at the mural on the wall. “I wonder if they had a union, like proper, sensible ponies.”

“Reality ain’t gonna make itself, you know—”

“Oh, shush, Rainbow.”

“Twilight’s broken reality a few times, I’m sure.” Rainbow paused, pained, and when she continued, her voice cracked a multitude of times. “She’s gotten pretty good at gluing the busted pieces together, even when they don’t fit right.”

“I’ve had reality fall apart all around me. It was unpleasant. And then, about a year later, Pebble was born. Discord tells me that she’s the scariest creature he’s ever seen. I’m kinda proud of that. I mean, Pebble makes Discord nervous.”

When Vinyl turned to stare at him, Tarnish stood his ground, resolute.

Snorting, Vinyl surrendered and turned away.

Feeling that he had delayed long enough, he tucked away the spectacles, loosened the strap that secured his shield to his back, hefted his wrench, and then made his way to the stairs. Whatever awaited below, it was time to face it. A long walk in the dark awaited them, and then a laboratory where the machines, no doubt left running, had no doubt decayed just a bit.

The prospect was terrifying.

“Flamingo…” Tarnish whispered her name and hoped that she wouldn’t be too loud. “How are you feeling?”

In response, the sword yawned and then said, “Sleepy still. I stayed up past my bedtime. I dreamt I was going into a horrible dark place with spiders. Whew, thankfully that nightmare is over. What’s for breakfast?”

There was no point in telling her, but not telling her left Tarnish feeling guilty. Flamingo was practically a foal. At the time of her death, she was a foal. But also a soldier. A seasoned soldier who no doubt knew the ways of war. She cast a warm, pink light on everything, a reassuring, comforting pink light that somehow made the darkness a little less oppressive.

“At least it’s not dark,” Flamingo babbled, cheerful even in her sleepy state. She hummed to herself for a bit, oblivious to Tarnish’s gritted teeth, and floated just ahead of the group. “When was the maid here last? If the Royal Pony Sisters saw this mess, heads would roll. You know, heads actually don’t roll very well. They’re not round. But they do bounce and wobble.”

The pegasus-sword yawned again, a sound that echoed through the tunnel, and then swooped around Tarnish’s head like the most upbeat, cheerful bat to have ever graced existence. “Who’s the wrench? He’s handsome. He doesn’t say much, does he? Hmm, the strong, silent type. Yuh!”

“Tarnish!” Daring Do hissed between clenched teeth. “Do something!”

Treasuring Flamingo’s irrepressibly good nature, he did nothing.

All manner of bones littered the tunnel, the walls were slick with oozing moisture that did little to reflect the light. Flamingo was a beacon of light, a tiny, portable pink sun that brought warmth and cheer into dark, dreadful places. After all the fighting, she deserved her rest—she deserved a bit more shut-eye than what she was given—but right now, more than ever, she was needed.

“La-dee-da-da hocus pocus… abracadaver…”

“Uh, Flamingo”—he kept his voice low, hoping that she might take a hint—“I think you meant to say abracadabra.”

She paused, midair, whirled around, and replied, “I dunno. Maybe? I heard the Night Lady singing this song once. There would have been a standing ovulation, but sadly, no one was left standing. She chopped off their heads with a bloody big axe.”

Ovulation? Tarnish, as bleak as everything was, could not contain his smirk.

“Sometimes, the Sisters fight over what is better. Axes or hammers? All that bickering. Everypony knows that swords are better.” Flamingo went silent, but only for a few precious moments, and then she resumed humming as she lead the way.

Tarnish allowed Daring Do to pull ahead, and he fell into pace just behind her. Vinyl trotted just beside him, to his left, and Rainbow Dash brought up the rear. With Flamingo setting the pace, they would make quick progress. While the three mares trotted double-time, Tarnish fell into a relaxed, leisurely stroll that might have been considered a mosey.

This was a station, of sorts, but not the station they were looking for. From the looks of things, it was a maintenance depot of sorts, a place where the trains were brought. The double track split into six lanes total, and a three car train was parked here now. It was different than the metros of Manehattan, which were boxy and had sharp edges. This was sleek, streamlined, with each section almost egg-shaped.

Not a single window survived.

The bones of some two-headed beast lay on the tracks, a ginormous monster with six legs, by the looks of it. Long, curved claws could be seen, hooked claws, some of which were broken. It appeared as though a mighty struggle had taken place, with the great beast brought down by some dreadful assailant.

A spider, or band of spiders, no doubt.

“That’s a sloth.” Daring Do hurried ahead to have a better look and added, “Well, it has two heads and six legs, but that is most certainly a sloth. The poor dear… what was it doing down here? Coming down from your tree was a mistake.”

She seemed sincerely sad, and Tarnish admired her compassion for the gentle creatures of the world. Daring Do might not be so keen on other ponies at times, but like Fluttershy, she adored animals. At least, some animals. Typically the ones not trying to eat her. When he drew close, the first thing he noticed were the deep gouges in the bones, as if it had been slashed by a sword or chopped with an axe.

“Nothing about this place makes sense,” muttered Daring Do beneath her breath.

Something about the station unsettled Tarnish, and a paranoid inner-voice suggested that he had eyes upon him—predatory eyes. Vinyl must have been feeling them as well, because she seemed skittish. Daring Do seemed to be grieving, but he doubted that it was the bones of the two-headed dead sloth that caused this outpouring of emotion. She must be shook to her core, Daring Do, and just as she had done with him, he now wondered if her judgment might be a tiny bit compromised, because she wasn’t acting like herself.

Then again, were any of them acting like themselves?

Vinyl, a practical sort who was always clear-headed, had taken to hoarding—to the point that she was almost overburdened. Even worse, he suspected that Vinyl would not communicate that there was something wrong, and as such, he would have to keep an eye on her with the hopes of avoiding any sort of downward spiral. Daring Do was growing mopier by the minute over a dead sloth. Rainbow Dash was acting a little too much like her self, which meant she was forcing it, it was an act so that she would appear cool. As for himself, well, the less said about himself, the better.

There was no running away, no slipping outside for a bit of air, no calling a timeout so that one might collect themselves. They were stuck—stuck—and all that could be done was hold it together, no matter what, at any cost. Falling apart—failure—meant never going home. Looking down at the bones, he wondered in silence; what was a giant two-headed sloth doing in these tunnels? How did it get this far? Sloths were rather slow, all things considered.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he was almost certain that he could hear something scurrying in the sea of darkness just off the coast of the island of light. Reaching out with his magic, he gave Daring Do a gentle tug to get her attention, and then, in a low whisper, he said, “We must be going.”

Looking up at him, she nodded, agreeing that it was time to go.

Author's Notes:

Oh yes, there will be spiders...