Scootaloo looked at her new badge and sighed. Detective work, she decided, was boring as donkey-shit.

She looked out through the window of her now-unmarked police car, scanning the crowds that passed along Ponyville's streets. Having been promoted to detective by none other than Commissioner Sparkle herself, she'd set out to get a hold of Rainbow Dash, hoping they could discuss the return of the Dark Knight together, and had been disappointed to find that the Rainbow Manor was currently empty. Not even the butler (what was her name, Fluttershy?) would answer. It was odd, no doubt, but the new detective left the house feeling depressed.

She had not noticed the French windows that had been pried open the prior night.

Now, she sat in her car, waiting for something to happen. She'd looked through her notes on the possible whereabouts of Spike (notes that had gotten her her promotion to detective in the first place) twice, and was currently contemplating going over to the nearest coffee shop and getting a caramel macchiato. She found herself wondering how her old partner was doing. He hadn't shown any sign of jealousy, and Scootaloo had gotten the smallest impression that her partner felt sorry for her. She dismissed it, though, and took her farewells in stride. She almost missed him.

Not that she wanted to go back...

She looked up from her badge in time to see an elegantly dressed mare--one who seemed very out of place in Old Town--trotting out of a building quickly and making her way down the street. She was wearing a hat stylish enough to be featured in one of Hoity Toity's fashion lines, an it matched her thin black dress and, strangely enough, socks. She was carrying several bags of luggage, like she was going on a trip.

Hang on... The dress clicked in Scootaloo's mind, and she realized where she'd seen the mare before. This was the mare she'd seen running out of the bar where the police had found Fancypants a few nights ago. And now she was leaving, it seemed.

What had Twilight told her when she was promoted? She wasn't allowed to believe in coincidences anymore.

The mare hailed a cab and climbed into the back seat. As it drove off, Scootaloo trailed behind it, thankful to have something to do besides sit and wait for ten hours a day. She picked up her radio.

"Get Commissioner Sparkle," she said. "Tell her I've found a connection on Fancypants' kidnapping.

She followed the cab, congratulating herself for picking up on something her first day.

What was the mare thinking? she told herself as the cab made a turn onto the highway. That she'd be unnoticeable if she straightened her hair?

Pinkamena Pie made her way through the airport security without a second glance. Her boarding pass was in her purse, her luggage was all accounted for, and she was ready to get the hell out of this place and trade the grimy streets of Old Town for the luxurious cafes of Prance.

Or at least, she hoped it would end that way.

She spotted a uniformed officer giving her the look that told her he wasn't just appreciating her form. She sighed and decided that it was time to improvise. She turned and ducked into a secluded corridor, ignoring the sign that told her that only flight personnel were allowed in there.

The cop found her applying a fresh layer of ruby-red lipstick.

"Excuse me, miss, but I'll need to see your identification.

Acting surprised, Pinkie nodded, and handed him the hat.

"Do you mind?"

The guard took it without hesitation. Pinkie fumbled for her purse for a second, then abruptly brought a fist through the hat and clipped the officer on the chin. He went limp, and Pinkie caught him before he hit the floor. She noticed a custodian's closet nearby, and grinned.

Hide and Go Seek, anypony?

Leaving the cop in the closet with her formerly-functional hat (it did make a fashion statement on him, she supposed), Pinkie made her way to the terminal, where, to her disgust, she found two more uniformed officers waiting for her at the entrance to the plane. She turned on the spot, and headed back out towards the main area of the airport--only to run into the friendly cop who she'd ditched during the business with Fancypants.

She smiled, and held up her badge. It looked brand-new. Pinkie scowled.

Buck my life.

Five minutes later, she looked up at Scootaloo as the young detective entered the makeshift interrogation room they'd set up at the airport. She shifted her hooves uncomfortably in their cuffs, and gave her a poison look as she sat down across from her.

Okay, Scoot, the orange pegasus thought to herself. First interrogation as a detective. You can do this.

"I showed Mr. Fancypants your picture," she told the pink mare. "And guess what?"

"Don't tell me," she growled. "Still in love?"

"Oh, yeah, head over heels," she acknowledged. "Pressing charges, though." She set her hoof down on an enormous file sitting on the table in between them. "You've made some mistakes, Ms. Pie."

Ms. Pie shrugged, and tossed her hair back.

"Girl's gotta eat."

"And you have an appetite," Scootaloo added, flipping through the file briefly. She looked up from the file questioningly. "Why run? You can't hide from us with a record this big."

Her stare was poisonous. Not at all like the fragile little thing he'd met outside a crummy old bar last week.

"Maybe it's not you I'm running from."

Scootaloo put pieces together in mind, not sure if they fit. "Who then?" She took a shot. "Spike? What do you know about him?"

Her shot struck home. Her cocky demeanor disappeared.

"That you should be as afraid of him as I am."

Scootaloo could see that she meant it. "We could offer you protection-"

The mare shot him a look through her cascades of lengthy pink hair, as if she thought he was joking. She glanced at a mirror, and brushed the hair away with her cuffed hooves, seeming troubled by its straightness. She was giving Scootaloo all the signs she needed to see that there was nothing more that she was going to say on the matter.

There was, however, one matter that still needed to be handled--off tape. She switched the tape off and stood up.

"When I spotted you, on your way here," she said, "I was looking for a friend. Rainbow Dash."

The name had an instantaneous effect on the mare. She didn't say anything, but Scootaloo had seen the shock run through her, and knew she wasn't telling her something. She stepped closer, blocking her view in the mirror, and leaned in close.

"Did they kill her?"

Something odd happened. Her color seemed to drain away, not in a way that looked like shock, but in a way that made her look...darker. She did not meet her eyes when she spoke again. The tone in her voice sounded guilty of something that Scootaloo did not want to know.

"I'm not sure," she confessed.

Scootaloo's heart sank.

Bats. Bats everywhere. Screeching, trying to hurting her, fluttering with claws outstretched and fangs barred, they flew up, up, past her and into the sun, away from the dank hell they'd appeared from.

The child was left staring into it, waiting for something larger, something more dangerous, something black and rotten to come crawling out of their. It was slithering, she could hear it, and she wondered how quickly it would end for her. She saw it coming through the blackness, the bad thing, the Super-Bat, the thing that she didn't want, and it was gonna kill her, eat her for supper.

Then, through the dark, the soft flutter of familiar wings. The child looked up, and saw her guardian angel coming to help her. He was smiling, and the smile was comforting.

"Why do we fall, Dash?

Rainbow Dash woke in a cold sweat, breathing hard and wondering what was happening. Her vision was blurred beyond usage, and she lay there, panting, as the world came back into focus. When it did, she found it was an unfamiliar world, with nothing she recognized, save for the demented figure crouching next to her.

Spike. In a rush, everything came back to her. Applied Sciences. Their fight. Her defeat (death?). She realized she was dressed in rags, and the Batsuit was nowhere to be found. Not that she had expected that. Everything in her was hurting, and it didn't help when she spoke.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" she asked, voice hoarse.

The dragon was quick to answer. "You do not fear death. You welcome it." he shook his head. "Your punishment must be more severe."

After everything, he wanted more. She glared at her captor.

"You're a torturer..."

"Yes," Spike agreed. "But not of your body. Of your soul."

Rainbow Dash wanted to spit to spit in his face, but a sudden wave of pain wracked her body. She fought to stay conscious.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Home," Spike replied. "My home. Where I learned the truth about despair. As will you."

Rainbow looked around, turning her head as little as possible. Through the rusty iron bars of her cell, she caught a glimpse of what looked to be an enormous stone complex carved entirely underground. There were metal staris and catwalks that led down into a huge pit, filled with cell blocks that looked dirtier and darker each level that went down. Looking up, Dash saw that there was indeed a way out, and that it was several hundred feet up. There were no guards here, it seemed, and Rainbow knew why. The only way out was to climb up. Rag-wearing figures populated the area, and most were looking up at the early morning sun, looking as though they wished they knew what it felt like to bask in its warmth. Angry shouts and screams echoed from the cells, and in that moment Dash knew where she was.

They were in the pit Spike had been raised in.

The purple drake rose from his spot next to Rainbow Dash and crossed the cell, looking out at his old home. "There is a reason this prison is called Tartarus." He lifted his masked visage up toward the distant sunlight. "Hope. Every dragon, pony, or griffin who has been thrown down here to rot has looked up to the light, and imagined climbing to freedom. So simple, so easy. And, like those trying to escape a sinking ship by jumping into the water, many have died trying.

"It was here that I learned that there can be no true despair without hope." He turned back to Rainbow Dash.

"So as I terrorize Ponyville, I will feed its citizens hope. I will let them believe they can survive, so that you can watch them clamber over each other to stay in the sun." He pointed to a television that was resting on a wall nearby. Rainbow wondered if he'd brought it down just for here.

"You will watch," Spike continued, "as I torture an entire city to bring you the pain you thought you could never truly feel again. Then, when you have truly understood the depths of your failure, we will fulfill Ra's al Ghul's destiny. We will destroy Ponyville, and you will watch everything you hold dear to you die, begging to be kept in the warmth for another moment longer, betrayed by their own hope. And when it is done--when Ponyville is ashes--then you have my permission to die."

Spike turned to depart, leaving Dash alone in her decaying cell. A door swung shut, its rusty hinges squealing in protest. She wanted to do something, anything, even yelling obscenities at the drake would do some good. But she was weak, and the agony was taking her again.

The darkness washed over her again, and Rainbow Dash fell into another of what would be many more dreams of death to come.

Even as she slept, the screams found their way into her dreams.

Hayseed Prison was a maximum-security penitentiary located on a small unicorn-made island in the middle of the Ponyville Lake. It was kept high up, on a mountain protected by countless charms and accessible only by balloon. Or, if ever there was such a thing, an all-purpose vehicle capable of climbing a mountain. The Soarin' Act had been what made Hayseed Prison the number-one place for criminals who thought they could plead insanity, replacing Ark-hoof Asylum as the preferred local for all ponies criminal. The worst of the worst were sent here, save for, perhaps, the Joker, who was presumably the only one locked away in the Asylum. Alone. In a former hellhole.

Or maybe he escaped. Nopony knew if he had.

Not even Pinkie.

She gazed at the slope of the Hayseed mountain as it dropped below them, giving way to a massive castle-like building that reminded her of Rainbow Manor. Instead of entering it with her favorite tight black dress, she was in a hideous prison-special orange jumpsuit, complete with hair tie for her waterfall of a mane, and hoofcuffs, which Pinkie would have done anything to trade for a pair of diamond-studded bracelets, as they made it much easier to walk.

Upon entering the facility, she was met with a cacophony of wolf-whistles and catcalls (the name made Pinkie giggle, even when her hair was Straight) from the rows of entirely male prisoners. Obscene jeers followed her as she strode down the hall. The prisoners rattled the bars of their cells like animals in a zoo. Some even reached their hooves (or claws) out to try and get a feel of a real mare again.

She sometimes missed the attention the big cats gave her.

One of the guards escorting her looked uncertain.

"We're locking her up here?"

Hayseed Prison was not co-ed, but there had never really been a need for it to be. The warden nodded anyway.

"The Soarin' Act allows non-segregation based on extraordinary record," he explained. He kept a close eye on her. "And buddy, it doesn't get more extraordinary than this. First time she broke outta a woman's correctional, she was sixteen.

Pinkie heard this, and called back: "Fifteen. I looked mature for my age."

One of the burlier, uglier convicts was reached out to grope her. He was rather close, and Pinkie saw him licking his lips, like a dog about to get dinner.

"Little closer, baby," he said coarsely.

Pinkie gave him a schoolgirl look. "Aw, honey," she purred. "You wanna hold my hoof?"

She slipped her hooves into his greasy ones, and for a split second his face lit up like the Summer Sun Celebration. Then Pinkie did a cartwheel and snapped both his forelegs.

Bone splintered, and the steroid-laden pegasus went down, screaming as two guards rushed to get Pinkie away from the other convicts. The convicts themselves had, unsurprisingly, shut up. She had not missed a beat coming down, and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

The warden turned to look at the uncertain guard.

"She'll be fine here," he predicted, giving the guard a rueful smile.

Zecora and Rarity stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of Rainbow Enterprises. They strolled at leisure toward the executive boardroom.

"I don't see the need for a board meeting right now," complained Zecora. "I have a problem to solve, and I need to know how." She did not say what her problem was, but showing Rarity the energy project was enough; she didn't need to know about Applied Sciences, or the raid that had been put on it. The inventory needed to be checked, and quickly. She didn't like the idea of some terrorist group getting their hands on her prototypes.

"Rainbow got a lot of things right, dear," Rarity insisted. "Keeping the board in the dark was not one of them."

Zecora wasn't sure she agreed with Rarity on that one, but with her as the acting president of Rainbow Enterprises, she didn't want to consider disagreeing with her. Word was that Rarity got mad when she was disagreed with, and when she was mad, she displayed a set of skills that one would not think possible from a mare as dainty-looking and pure as her. So, with an inner sigh, Zecora pushed open the doors to the board room, ready to sit through another round with the oldest geezers in the city...

...and found them already in a meeting, and with a character that Zecora was sure didn't belong in an office building.

The board members sat around the office, trembling in and ashen-looking. A group of dragons was standing with them, holding guns to their heads. At the head of the long table, sitting where Zecora usually did, was a figure who had turned his back to them. As the zebra and unicorn felt themselves pushed into the room and heard the doors shut, the figure spun around in his chair, imitating a sequence that Rarity had seen in one too many spy films that served as the revealing of the villain. The villain in this chair, however, was exactly the kind of face that she had never gotten when she had watched Con Mane make clever puns at the leader's idiot henchmen.

"This meeting is called to order," said Spike.

Zecora stepped protectively in front of Rarity, who was frozen in place.

"Chair and president," continued the masked drake, getting out of the chair and crossing his muscular arms. He looked as though he was about to go to war, and Zecora realized that that may be just what he was going to do.

The drake turned to the cowering executives. "We'll also need one regular board member. Miss Zecora, would you care to nominate?"

Zecora said nothing, but looked out at the frightened old ponies kneeling before the gun-toting dragons. Before she could say anything, a frail-looking gray stallion stood up. Zecora recognized him as Buford Waddle, one of Rainbow Enterprises oldest board members.

"I'll go," he said, speaking up. "There's no need for Zecora to choose."

Zecora silently thanked him, and oped things wouldn't end too badly for him. And them, she supposed as the three were led back towards the elevators. She wished that Dash was still on the board. Then, perhaps, she would be here with them, knowing what to do in the end.

But nopony had seen Rainbow Dash in days.

"Where are you taking us, you ruffians?" yelped Rarity, seemingly unaware of the dangers of being held hostage by dragons with guns.

"Where you buried your resources," answered Spike. "The bowels of Ponyville."

Zecora found herself shivering at the drake's words.

Twilight had had worse days, but not too many in this case. Scootaloo was in her hospital room, telling her that the Batmare may truly be gone this time, never to return. A moment after this, Big Mac had come in, telling her that he was sorry he hadn't believed her, that she should relieve him of his duties for what he'd done, that if she never wanted to see him again, that was okay, he deserved, etc. When she'd finally gotten enough of a break from him to tell him to shut up, he explained that the masked dragon she had been "going on" about was real, and that he was holding the entire Rainbow Enterprises board of directors hostage.

On top of that, her bed wouldn't move so she could sit up.

She jumped into action anyway. "Where are they now?"

Big Mac looked up at her. "He let most of th' board members go, but he's taken three a'them down into th' sewers."

Twilight shut her eyes, thinking through their options. When she opened them, she knew exactly what to do.

"No more hide and seek. Send every damn cop down there, and smoke him out." She felt invigorated, perhaps by the fact that she was finally being taken seriously.

Big Mac hesitated.

"Th' mayer won' want panic-"

"Then it's a training exercise," suggested Scootaloo.

Big Mac nodded, and turned back to Twilight. "Ah'm sorry, Twi, I-"

A lavender aura surrounded his lips and held them shut. Twilight smiled and shook her head.

"Don't apologize for what you've done wrong," she said. She couldn't stay mad at him, no matter what he did. She liked him too much. "Just fight to make it right."

Big Mac nodded, his lips still sealed, and charged out of the room. Scootaloo began to follow, only to be stopped by the same aura that had held Big Mac's lips together shutting the door to Twilight's room. She turned to Twilight.

"You say the Batmare's gone?" asked Twilight. "Then you go find any leads on what he might be doing. Look into what Spike's dealings with Filthy Rich were about. And fast."

Scootaloo nodded. The door unlocked and opened for her.

Water dripped from a rag into Rainbow's awaiting mouth, the droplets passing over her dry, cracked lips. The dragon who was doing this for her was old, and yet so small for a hulking beast. His dull turquoise scales flickered in the fading light coming from the aperture above them, and he wiped his brow when he was done, brushing it across the light grey fins that sat atop his head. He heard a muttering, and looked over at the griffon sitting in the cell next to Dash's. He was even older, it seemed, with his feathers falling out even as he spoke. Milky cataracts blinded him, and he spoke hoarsely. All in all, he appeared as though he was going to die any minute. He spoke in a language that Rainbow Dash did not recognize, and the dragon translated for him.

"He asks us if you would pay us to let you die," Gray Fins asked. He sounded as though there was some other place, far far away, where he'd lived before being thrown in this hellish place. "I told him you have nothing."

Rainbow grimaced. She was miserable, laying on the cot, waiting for whatever Spike had in store for her. She had no idea how long she had been down here. Feverish and weak, her mind was gone, and thus she'd lost track of time and, occasionally, space. She couldn't even clean herself, and she feared her hair would stay the one shade of blood-red forever.

"Do it for the pleasure," she suggested, hoping they would think about it. But the nameless drake put a piece of bread to her lips anyway, shrugging.

"They pay me more than that to keep you alive."

Chanting came from outside. Rainbow turned, slowly, wanting it not to hurt so much, and looked to see what was happening. Daylight made things visible, and she found it just as tantalizing as Spike had described it.

A crowd of prisoners had gathered around a well-built inmate who could have had a career as a carnival strong-drake. He stood on one of the upper levels, just below where the shaft leading upwards began. Another prisoner stood by his side, his face covered with inky-black tattoos. This one, also a dragon, handed the strong drake a rope, which he tied around his chest, making sure to avoid the large, blackened stumps on his back where Dash knew his wings had been. More prisoners crowded around the area, chanting the same phrase. It seemed to be an encouragement, but to Rainbow it sound like a battle-cry.

"He will try the climb," said Gray Fins.

The rope, it turned out, was a safety measure, something hammered into the shaft about a third of the way up. After that, it became something that would make sure you didn't make a mess hitting the ground. Strong Drake began to climb up, reaching the rope system easily, and for a moment Rainbow thought he would make it. Then, when he was almost at the top, Strong Drake reached an edge that was too far. He didn't see this, though, or didn't care, and jumped anyway. He fell past it, and after a while, the rope came in and tightened around him. Despite this protecting him, he still slammed into the wall of the shaft after having fallen more than a hundred feet, and Rainbow would not have been surprised if he came back down with cracked ribs. She saw his face, smashed up against the wall, and felt sick, something that gore had not brought on her since she'd last gone on a Deep Web site on her computer.

The spectators did nothing to help the Strong Drake. They looked disappointed, and made their way back to their separate cells.

"Has anypony ever made it?" she asked, making a mental note to start saying "anyone" instead.

"Of course not," said Gray Fins.

One cell over, the blind man barked in protest.

"What does he say?" Rainbow asked.

"He says there is one who did," answered the drake. "A child..." He shuddered. "A child who was born in this hell."

Rainbow understood in a second.

"Spike."

The drake flinched at the name. He seemed anxious to change the subject, and did so by getting up to leave the cell, stuffing the last of Rainbow's meal in her mouth. He paused at the entrance to turn the TV on.

"Don't" pleaded the cyan pegasus. She wouldn't watch the horror show Spike was about to put on for her amusement. She couldn't. But her caretaker did it anyway. He shrugged apologetically.

"Whatever they want you to see," he said, "it's happening soon."

Zecora wanted to ask where they were being taken, but she had an idea where they were going. After all, the concrete formations looked familiar enough to somepony who'd spent five years working around it.

She, Rarity, and Mr. Waddle had been taken through the jagged hole under Applied Sciences into the lair that could only have been Spike's. They were then escorted through what felt like miles of underground tunnels and catacombs. As they passed more and more of Spike's goons, Zecora recognized more and more of what had once been her life's work. Mini-mines, magnetic steel grapples, smoke and gas capsules designed to work like spitballs, surveillance equipment that Celestia had banned after it was used to discover her infamous sweet tooth, and even the tumblers, sister vehicles of the one that had once served as the Batmare's main mode of transport.

Thank Celestia Rainbow took the Bat, she thought, watching the drakes do their work with her tools. I would not have been able to do anything about that.

They came to a large, damp tunnel lit by flickering lights, just like the three dozen other large, damp tunnels they'd come across on their way here. What was different about this one, however, was the addition of what looked like a set-up of explosive charges, ready to tear a hole through the wall of the tunnel.

Beside the bomb stood a dull brown earth pony, who looked like he'd been wearing the same suit for at least a month. He was pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself, and seemed to have gone off the deep end a long time ago. He ran a hoof through his equally brown hair, ruffling it up as much as possible. Rarity covered her mouth with a hoof, recognizing the pony in the suit.

"Dr. Whooves?" she asked. The pony paid her no mind, but mumbled something that sounded like "Just Doctor" before continuing to pace and talk with himself.

Zecora knew the name of the dear Doctor. He was the reason that Rainbow had mothballed their energy project in the first place, having popped up out of nowhere and told the world how the reactor could be turned into an enormous nuclear weapon using only a brilliant mind like his. She wondered why he was here, and felt a nagging fear rise up in her gut again.

Spike waited while his minions finished setting up the explosives. When they did, one handed him a detonator, which he pushed immediately. Time Turner saw this, and galloped away from the wall swiftly.

An explosion rocked the tunnel.

Police and Royal Guard teams prepared to invade the underground. Big Mac was looking up at the sky, where Celestia's sun was getting ready to set. It didn't matter very much, he knew, but it still made him shiver to think of what this night might bring for Ponyville.

He got a call on his radio. The teams had set up positions in the sewer entrances, the subway stations, manholes, you name it, and were awaiting orders from him, sir. They were ready to begin, and so was Big Mac. He gave the signal, and the entire Ponyville police force (and half of Princess Celestia's Royal Guard) began their journey into the underground.

As they began to move, Big Mac found himself thinking about Twilight Sparkle again. He frowned when he recalled how he'd laughed at the panicked young mare who come in after finding Twilight at the sewer pipe earlier. The orange pegasus had returned the gesture by spitting in his coffee, something that would have gotten the kid fired had he not saved somepony whom Big Mac held near and dear to him. He thought of Twilight, and wished he'd believed her. That he'd done this earlier.

But he was going to make it up to her. One way or another, they were going to find Spike and bring him to justice.

Spike led the way into the chamber he'd just blown an entrance into. Zecora recognized it as the reactor chamber, and felt her lunch curdling in her stomach as her gaze fell upon the machine in the center of the room. She glanced again at the nervous Doctor standing near them, and suddenly everything clicked together.

She vomited onto the floor. Spike paid no mind to this, and shoved her forward, toward the machine.

"Turn it on," he ordered.

Zecora turned to him, wiping her mouth and spitting into the small puddle she'd made.

"No." It was one of the few times she didn't rhyme her words.

Spike shrugged, and drew his pistol from his belt. He pointed it at Waddle, pressing the barrel into his forehead.

"I need only one other board member," he explained. "Shall I fetch another?"

Zecora thought of the other board members waiting back at Rainbow Tower. We they still in danger? Zecora decided to call Spike's bluff.

"I won't do it," she said. "I would rather have my throat slit."

"I'm afraid it will have to be much more cost-effective," Spike said, cocking his weapon. Waddle was shaking badly, but he still showed no sign of breaking under pressure. He was old, and he had lived a long happy life. He was merely disappointed it had to end with a gun...

"Stop."

Rarity stepped forward. She had hardly spoken during their time underground, merely groaning quietly every time they passed by something dirty, which had been every five seconds. Now, though, she was ignoring the dirt on her hooves, and holding one up to stop Spike. She rushed past Zecora and placed her hoof on the biometric scanner acting as the security system. It beeped once, confirming her identity. She stepped down and pleaded with Zecora when the zebra gave her an incredulous look.

"Zecora, you'll kill this stallion and yourself, and hardly slow them down."

She hated to admit it, but the unicorn was right. Slowly, Zecora made her way to the scanner, and placed her hoof on it as well. She begged Rainbow Dash's forgiveness as the machine beeped again, and stepped back to let Spike bring Waddle forward. A final beep activated the reactor core, and it glowed brighter and brighter as the fusion reactor powering it went to work, generating vast amounts of energy out of almost nothing. It was the same energy that powered the sun.

And hydrogen bombs.

Time Turner, who had been watching the machine turn on intensely, was snapped back to reality by Spike.

"Do your work."

He scurried over to the core, and began to fiddle with the surface of the reactor core. Spike turned back to his goons and gestured to the three hostages.

"Take them to the surface," he ordered, dismissing Zecora and the others. "Ponies of their status need to experience the next era of Equestrian civilization."

Zecora didn't like the sound of that, but Spike didn't bother to elaborate. He stood silently, and watched his minions pull the three back into the tunnels.

When they were gone, he turned to watch the Doctor at his work. Under his mask, he allowed himself the smallest smile of self-satisfaction.

Everything in its right place.