Ponyville Stadium was one of the newest additions to the city, costing a little over 200 million bits and being the center of attention this fine evening. The Ponyville Elements were facing the Appleloosa Apples (known for their infamously unoriginal name), and everypony with a social life (or anypony not in a hospital) was going out to the Stadium that day. You had too, really. There was no reason not to.

Flanked by security, Mayor Mare made her way to her VIP box, where she was greeted by countless newsponies trying to get the inside scoop on why literally thousands of police officers were making their way underground. She took these questions in stride, having had to deal with them for years and years.

She would only have to deal with them one last time.

"Ms. Mayor! There are literally thousands of police officers going underground as we speak," began one reporter, a tan red-headed stallion who looked like he spent too much time on the internet.

"A training exercise, that's all," she reassured. Her smile was becoming slightly forced. She loved her city, she really did, but Celestia, sometimes these ponies would not shut the buck up. So, taking the high road, she planted an Elements cap on her head, letting her silvery hair flow out the back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got tickets to watch our team thrash those darn Apples."

She made her way to her box, where she could see almost sixty-thousand ponies sitting in the stands, waiting for the game to start. Two whole acres of freshly planted grass waited below, where it would be torn up by the competing teams, no doubt. She wondered if the Elements were potential National material. That wouldn't hurt in the next re-elections, though she doubted that it would be too hard to win them. Again.

She waved to the crowd below as she took her seat. The crowd waved back.

She hoped that Big Mac and his posse could finish up whatever it was they were doing quickly.

Under the city, literally thousands of police and Royal Guards made their way through what could basically be described as the world's biggest latrine. Amongst these Guards included Shining Armor himself, Captain of the entire Royal Guard itself. Right now, he wanted to be at home, where his wife was probably preparing dinner. He knew it was only a teleport away, but he still felt the distance between them. He wondered if Cadence had finished planning their daughter's birthday party.

He smiled at the thought. My little Ambrose is turning five. He reminded himself to pick up a present as soon as he was done with this job. He kicked at a pebble, thinking about how easy it would be to just magic himself out of here. But that was wrong, he knew, so he didn't. The Royal Guard needed him as their captain, and besides, with all these cops helping them out, they'd be done in no time.

There were thirty minutes left before it all ended.

Scootaloo cruised through an ugly district, where he saw construction workers finishing up their work day. She was impressed to see that it was a group of ponies and dragons working together on whatever they were building. It wasn't every day you got to see something like that. She smiled, and stepped out of her car to check the situation out.

Twilight's orders had been to check the construction patterns throughout the city, as the construction business was something that Filthy had owned. She had already checked out half of the locations, and all of the workers had been friendly, letting her "snoop around a bit" before she headed off to the next one.

As she approached this site, though, she felt a chill run up her spine. There was something strange about this one...something that she'd seen before.

"Hang on..." she said, taking a closer loo at the large colt sitting in the cement mixer nearby. He looked oddly familiar...

Time Turner stepped back from the machine, his terrible deed done. He turned to Spike and nodded.

"I-It's done," he said, wanting to go back in time and undo his thesis on the reactor. "This is now a four megaton nuclear bomb." He was afraid of what it could do, but not as much as what Spike could do with it.

The drake nodded in approval. He called to his team.

"Pull the core out of the reactor."

Time Turner yelped. "You can't!" His face was draining of color. "This is the only power source capable of sustaining it. If you move it, the core will decay in a matter of months-"

"Five, by my calculations," Spike replied calmly.

The Doctor was confuse. He wanted the bomb to go off? He tried again to explain.

"The bomb will go off, then!!"

"For the sake of those dear to you," said Spike, "I hope so."

Stunned, the brown stallion backed away from the monster gazing at the bomb before him. He really wanted to go back in time now. Too bad I decided to work on nuclear physics, and not temporal physics, he thought to himself, trying to lighten the mood. The weight that rested on his shoulders was too heavy, though.

After all, four megatons is quite a bit.

"...I know you, don't I?"

Scootaloo was speaking with the colt driving the cement mixer. There was a smell coming from somewhere that was messing with her nose, and she was waving a hoof in front of her muzzle, trying to shrug it off. The colt in the driver's seat squinted at the mare.

"Uhh..."

Scootaloo decided to refresh his memory. "The stock market, right? You were there."

"When?"

"When?" she echoed in disbelief. This guy had to be playing dumb. "When half the city's cops were trying to pull up in front of the Ponyville Stock Exchange, that's when!"

"Oh yeah," the colt said, smirking as though it was a memory of a crazy night in a club rather than when he'd almost gotten arrested. "You were the cop."

There was something wrong, Scootaloo realized. The colt was acting too dumb and laid back about this. And the dragon that had been chatting with him before was still standing behind Scootaloo, waiting to talk with him again. Or something.

"Detective, now."

The driver snorted, unimpressed by her promotion. The drake behind her moved, and Scootaloo heard the sound of metal clinking. Her wings fluttered in paranoia, and she recalled Twilight's words.

"And as a detective," she added, "I'm not allowed to believe in coincidence any more-"

She spun around, drawing her sidearm, and shot the drake just in time to nto have a knife stuck into her back. The dragon clutched the spot on his chest where the bullet had entered, sputtered a bit, and fell to the ground. Scootaloo was shocked at the fantastic amount of blood spurting from his body.

Oh Celestia, she thought. I think I killed him.

The driver opened the truck's door, and Scootaloo spun around again, this time too late to stop him from grabbing her and holding her in his grip. She struggled, and grunted when he twisted the foreleg holding the gun back, trying to break it. She responded by shooting wildly, hitting the concrete and ricocheting the bullet back into the driver's...back. He yelled once, then fell back, as the dragon had, and banged his head against the truck as he fell. The colt slid into a limp pile on the ground, blood pouring from his back.

Scootaloo stared at the body, then at her gun. She'd just killed two people. In a matter of seconds. Disgusted with herself, she tossed the gun away and phoned the commissioner. As she reached her, Scootaloo noticed the barrels standing next to the cement mixer. She also realized that that was where the smell was coming from. She trotted over to them, inspecting their labels closer.

She had never been a good chemistry student, but she still recognized the chemicals the barrels labeled, and she realized with sudden horror what Spike's plan had been all along. She raced towards her vehicle even as Twilight muttered "Hello?" into the phone.

"Explosives!" she yelled as she made her way to the car. "He's been pouring concrete laced with explosives! Get the police out of the tunnels, or they'll be trapped! Get Big Mac! Tell him! It's a trap! Pull them out!"

She scrambled into her car, ready to zoom down to where Big Mac was, if needs be. It was only two minutes until kickoff at the Stadium. But she had no way of knowing that.

Big Mac was given the message from one of his officers. He thought for a moment, then realized in a wave of horror that Scootaloo's story checked out. There had been road workers pouring cement all over the place the past few weeks, and when he thought about it, if he check an underground map and compared it to a regular one-

He gasped and dropped his radio. Not bothering to pick it up, he galloped over to the tunnels, where he yelled at the cops running around inside.

"Pull 'em out! PULL 'EM OUT NOW!"

Spike pulled himself up into the boiler room of the Ponyville stadium. He looked around for a moment, then made his way to the entrance to the stadium, where a young colt was singing the Equestrian Anthem. He stood at the entrance, unseen by the crowd, and listened as the crowd sang of the love and tolerance for all things they all shared. He closed his eyes.

"Such a lovely voice," he observed, and prepared the trigger.

The colt finished singing. Spike watched the referee approach the center of the field, and he looked to Garble at the sound of the kickoff. The crimson dragon nodded, showing him that the charges were all set. Spike turned back to the stadium just as the ball flew into the air.

"Let the games begin."

He hit the detonator.

FALL 2: GameFall

Big Mac felt the explosions begin in another part of the city, and raced towards the light of day. He and a small group of his team made it out mere instants before the explosions made it to the tunnel they'd just been in. The tunnel roof collapsed, and Mac felt slabs of concrete rush past him to the ground as he sprinted for the blockade of patrol cars they'd made. Booming echoes ricocheted through the tunnel, making other officers inside cover their ears. Ponies left and right dodged to get away from falling rubble. One of them was screaming under a slab that was now covering where his hind legs and cutie mark used to be.

Then it stopped. The booms turned to crumbling sounds, and Big Mac realized that he'd somehow managed to stay standing the entire time. He staggered back to the blockade before turning around to look at the damage. He choked, partly on the dust floating through the air at the moment, and partly because what he saw made him want to cry. There was an enormous mound of rubble blocking the tunnel entrance. Big Mac imagined what the other tunnels looked like, and the same image popped into his head again and again.

"Buck," he blurted out to nopony. There was nopony really around to hear.

The entire Ponyville police force and Royal guard division was buried alive.

Out in the oldest part of Ponyville, away from where her brother was currently sweating his badge off, Applejack decided to have something that wasn't apple-related for dinner that day. She fixed herself a daisy sandwich and a tall glass of milk, and made her way out into the backyard, where the entrance to the Sweet Apple Acres apple orchard lay. It was 50 times larger than the Ponyville Stadium, and it was what Applejack lived for

She made it out just in time to see it implode.

Setting the sandwich and milk down on a table near the door, Applejack turned at the sound of the explosions. When she did, she saw the trees rippling across the orchard. It looked as if the ground had turned to water, and was now making waves. Then it decided to stop waving and fall in. With a thunderous roar, the orchard began to disappear underground. Tree after tree fell into the growing chasm that was racing towards the rest of the orchard. Years and decades of hard work amounted to nothing as the orchard was obliterated into almost nothing. The chasm stopped growing at almost half an acre away from where Applejack was standing. The rest of the orchard had fallen into the hole, and now dust was what covered her land.

Applejack took a tentative step forward. Her face was emotionless as she peered into the chasm as best as she could without getting near it. She saw her once great orchard reduced to rubble and tree branches. The amount of red from her apples made it look as though the hole was bleeding. She was sure that it would if it could.

Applejack took one more step forward. Then her eyes rolled up into the back of her skull, and she keeled over, smacking her face into the ground when she fell.

Nopony was around to help her. They were all at the football game.

The ball spiraled into the air.

The Ponyville receiver was all over it. He caught it with ease, and began sprinting his flank off as a group of the Appleloosa team (whom he warmly referred to as the Apple-losers) hounded him like Diamond Dogs. He sprinted past the mayor's box, and guessed that she was cheering along with the rest of the hometown crowd. He felt energized by their cheers, and shoved the Apple-losers out of the way as the end zone came closer and closer. He could taste victory.

Then the mayor's box exploded. It happened so fast that the receiver never even noticed. The crowd that felt debris and the mayor's blood rain down on them, however, felt it plenty. The cheering turned to screams of horror as explosions sounded from underneath the football field, and the brand new Stadium began to fall into the crowd. The receiver was blissfully ignorant, hearing only the rumble of what could only be all of his fans cheering his name and stamping their hooves in applause. He raced forward, barely outrunning the caving-in stadium, and along the way unknowingly shoved several of his good old Apple-losers down into the growing pit to their deaths.

He reached the end zone in time for the ground to stop imploding. On either side of the field, only the end zones remained above ground. The receiver looked up at the stands, ready for the applause, only to see thousands of ponies racing to get out of their seats. He smelled smoke, and slowly turned around to face the wreckage of the football field.

He drop the pigskin. Touchdown.

The world around Scootaloo erupted into fire as she barreled through the city. The pavement behind her was going up in an explosion, and those explosions just kept on getting closer and closer. Along with them, Scootaloo was trying to avoid the array of obstacles making themselves known to her. Broken street wires lay across the street, other cars (or remains of cars) littered the road. There were ponies abandoning all hope and trying to simply outrun the end of the world, and thus were running into the street.

Struggling to control her vehicle, Scootaloo managed to turn onto another street, one seemingly devoid of any explosive concrete. She was covered in her own notes, having had to swerve enough times to send them flying throughout the cabin of her car. She swore loudly when her coffee spilled over onto her lap, and her hooves gripped the wheel tightly as she struggled not to tuck and roll out of her car right then and there.

She turned to look behind her. The area she'd come from, the bridge that kept Ponyville and another part of the world outside connected over the Ponyville River, was now falling into said river. Looking further out, she saw that the railroad system, which was the main transport in and out of Ponyville, was being taken out as well.

Dammit, Scootaloo realized. He's cutting Ponyville off from the rest of the world! It was a silly notion, but it seemed that way, and Scootaloo had no time to think of anything else. Another explosion had just one off. Directly underneath her car.

She went flying. Metal crumpled, glass shattered, and the small orange pegasus was upside down.

The football field was a nightmare. What had moments ago been a bright green playing field was now a desolate pile of rubble and dead bodies. There was no sign of the football itself. Nopony noticed.

Spike's henchmen made their way out onto the field, forming a protective barrier for their leader. More soldiers, weapons prepped, were guarding the exits, making sure nopony could leave. Spike didn't want to have to talk to an empty house.

He strode onto the field like a conqueror claiming his empire. The prisoners of the stadium sobbed when they saw the skull-like mask resting upon the drake's face, and some believed he was Death himself. They realized there was no escape, and slowly stopped trying to run for the exits. Spike observed the cameras swinging towards him, and nodded with satisfaction. He wondered how many televisions were tuned into this channel right now.

He also wondered how Rainbow Dash was taking it.

A dead umpire lay near him, a shard of concrete from the mayor's box lodged in his cranium. His headset appeared to have survived, though, and Spike plucked it from the dead colt's head and brought it close to his mouthpiece. He found it amusing to use it to speak to his crowd.

The crowd itself grew hushed as he prepared to speak. He held up his arm, asking for silence, and tapped the microphone to check if it worked.

"Ponyville!" he said to the crowd. "Take control of your city-"

A mile away, Scootaloo was crawling out of her totaled car. She spat out a mouthful of blood and checked to see if all her teeth were still in her mouth. She was thankful that nothing was broken, or seemed that way, and lay on the ground for a long while, listening to the sounds of chaos as explosions wrecked the city.

While she did, she thought. The "training exercise" had been a trap, she knew that. Spike wanted the police down in the sewers, where they could be trapped so that he could do what he wanted above ground. If the entire police force had gone in, that meant that the only law enforcement left was her and-

"Oh shit," she said out loud. Scrambling to her hooves, Scootaloo looked around for anything she could use to get to the hospital. She saw a battered mini moving down the street, smiled, and sprinted toward it, ready to commandeer her first car.

Twilight Sparkle awoke with a start. Her heart-rate monitor was beeping speedily, and she was breathing hard. The commotion downstairs had just woken her from a nightmare about Spike and the shoot-out in the sewers. It seemed so long ago now.

It took only a moment for her to recognize the sounds of screaming, shattering glass, and the occasional report of gunfire coming from downstairs. The whole thing gave her a horrible feeling of déjà vu, as the memory of the Joker's previous visit to a hospital to see Soarin' invaded her mind.

But there was no time for that. She pushed the memory away, knowing that she was going to be found eventually. And she new that whoever it was who were holding the guns, they probably would be looking for her. Again, she'd hated hated hated the Princess' little surprise. It made her too much of a target.

Grunting, Twilight slowly got out of her bed, keeping her IV tree close by with her magic. The needle in her foreleg stung each time she stepped forward, but she had to get out of there ASAP. How she was going to do that in this state, however, escaped her. This was not what the doctor ordered for her.

Slowly, she shuffled to where her room door was, and waited behind it, sniffling occasionally.

Scootaloo had dreamed once of being a stunt-flyer. When she found she couldn't fly, that dreamer had change to dtunt-biker. Her trusty scooter (which was still tucked away in her closet back at her apartment) had become her life, and she'd loved it more than anything. Her days of buzzing around on the scooter were over, but the dream of being able to do that for a living still itched in her mind.

Right now, though, she was in the process of learning why her caretakers had always told her not to go for that goal. Her commandeered vehicle was jumping over ramps made of upturned concrete, and she was practically doing barrel rolls in mid-air as she made her way to the hospital.

Reaching it, she felt as though she were too late. Broken glass was scattered around the door to the hospital. She bounded out of her vehicle and into the building. She passed by cowering nurses and doctors, who attempted to tell her what was happening. She promptly ignored them, and made her way towards Twilight Sparkle's room.

She burst into the commissioner's room at the sound of gunshots, praying that she wasn't dead already. Before she could move, though, she felt the warm barrel of a recently-fired gun press against the back of her head. For a second, her life flashed before her eyes. She was very disappointed at how short it was.

"Check the corners, rookie," Twilight Sparkle scolded. Now, rookie, that was a sound she liked.

Scootaloo turned to see Twilight still in her hospital gown, and she lowered what she assumed was one of her attacker's guns (the attacker in question was nowhere to be seen, but the broken window on the other side of the room gave Scoot a clue as to what had happened). She looked out into the hallway, where frightened patients looked out of their rooms at the four unconscious and/or dead bodies that Scootaloo had barely noticed when she charged into her room.

"Get my coat, please," Twilight asked.

Ponyville Stadium had become the hottest spot in Equestria, at least as far as the Royal Guard was concerned. More than three hundred personnel were crammed into what was titled, to the regret of their dear princesses, the "War Room."

It had not been this crowded since the janitorial biannual celebration last year.

The room was one of the most technologically advanced places on the planet (though it still paled in comparison to the Batcave). Shining monitors lined a wall, while another was lined with radar console and other tools that would scare the daylights out of anypony who saw what they controlled in action.

The ponies (and dragons and griffons) gathered around the table were occasionally glancing from the main monitor, where the terrorist threat known as Spike (or, as the Guard had code-named him, Equestria Bane) was speaking out to the citizens trapped in the stadium and the world beyond it, to the empty seat where their captain would have been sitting, had he not gone off to Ponyville to help his "dear little sister" himself. Now, they weren't sure if he was still around.

They wondered what they were going to tell the Princess Cadance.

On screen, Spike was gesturing to a radical looking device that his minions had pulled out from inside the locker rooms of the stadium. It looked almost like an enormous steel golf ball, but those gathered in the War Room knew better than to think that.

"This is the instrument of your liberation," Spike declared. He gestured again, and the drakes behind him tossed a sad-looking earth pony out beside him. The people gathered in the War Room recognized the pony immediately.

"Holy crap," one unicorn said. "He's got the Doctor."

"Identify yourself to the world," ordered Spike.

"Dr. Time Turner," the colt said, his voice shaking. "Scientist of many-"

Spike turned the Doctor's head towards the cameras, making sure the world knew who was speaking. The War Room Guards certainly knew who it was.

"He hasn't been heard from in months," said a griffon checking a computer. "We thought he'd gone of in his ship, but-"

The stallion at the head of the table hushed her, turning the others' attention back to the screen. Spike had placed his hand on the Doctor's shoulder, and was now asking him a question.

"Tell me, and the world, what is this?" He gestured to the giant sphere behind them.

"A fully primed neutron bomb. With a blast radius of six miles."

Spike nodded.

"And who can disarm this device?"

"Only me."

"Thank you, Doctor."

With the world watching, Spike effortlessly snapped the Doctor's neck, and shot him in between the eyes when he began to glow. The Doctor shook for a moment, then lay still. The stadium erupted into shrieks of horror. Many of the creatures in the War Room gasped. Only a mile away from where this was happening, a gray pegasus was holding her child in her forelegs, crying into her shoulder. The child was stroking her mother's lengthy blond hair, trying not to cry herself, and whispering that it was gonna be okay, even though it wasn't.

Spike went on, ignoring the screams, and said, "This bomb is armed. This bomb is mobile, and the identity of the triggerpony is a mystery. One of you holds the detonator. We are not conquerors of this city, but liberators, here to return control of this city to its citizens. At the first sign of interference from the outside world, or of ponies attempting to flee, this anonymous Ponyvillian--this unsung hero--will trigger the bomb.

"For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes, hold your families close, and wait." He threw out his arms, as though in a holy gesture. "Tomorrow you claim what is rightfully yours."

Spike turned and left the field. His goons rolled the bomb after him, leaving the body of the Doctor behind on the crumbling turf.

A hush settled over the War Room. Finally, a unicorn stood up, and ordered, "Pull back any and all fighters. Start high-level reconnaissance flights. And get Princess Celestia on the line."

He stared at the screen another moment, then turned away, ready to take action.

There was only one way into the city left. The railroad station that transported ponies directly to Canterlot was the only access road in and out of Ponyville. The rest of the city was either blocked off by rubble or by the countless dragons (fully grown ones, the size of the Canterlot castle) that circled the borders of the town.

Negotiations began with the terrorists at approximately 10:43 the day after Ponyville was taken hostage. These negotiations ended five minutes later. The one responsible for this was the second-in-command of the Royal Guard, one Diamond Sword, and when asked why he had broken off so quickly, he stared off into the distance for a moment. Finally, he answered:

"If we send one guard over that line that they've drawn, Ponyville gets blown sky-high."

It was easy enough to understand, but what was hard to believe was the fact that unicorn magic was useless in the fight against the terrorists. Dragons were capable of magic, most ponies knew, but the amount needed to block off an entire city from the rest of the world was nothing to laugh about. The barrier that covered the aerial zone over Ponyville was one that would have taken an entire brigade of Magic Specialist (or one Twilight Sparkle, as it happened), but the feat as carried out without any sign of effort or any sign of letting down. It stayed up constantly, and it left the War Roomies wondering.

A day later, Princess Celestia addressed the world. Rainbow Dash watched from her cot. She didn't move a muscle, yet tears streamed down her face.

"The ponies, dragons, griffons, and other creatures of this land are resilient," she announced somberly. "They have proven time and time again that this is true, and I know they can prove it again."

It was a nightmare, even when she wasn't sleeping, but the real pain came with Celestia's next sentence.

"We do not negotiate with terrorists," she said, and Rainbow saw a tear roll down the Princess's cheek, "but we do except realities..."

She couldn't take it anymore. Shuddering, she cried out in despair and pain.

The next day was no better, and for a good reason. The third day of the Siege of Ponyville was the day that the lie Commissioner Twilight had told to the city for eight years was revealed for what it was.

It began when Spike and his drakes rolled up to the front of Hayseed Prison, which had had its protection spells removed. Now it was a part of the mainland again, though the prisoners were still held there. They would only have to wait a few more minutes.

Twilight and Scootaloo were watching from the former's apartment when the masked dragon had pulled out a photo of a familiar light blue pegasus. In the photo, he was grinning photogenically at the camera, a pair of flight goggles settled neatly on his head.

"This colt was held up to you as an idol," Spike began. "I am here to tell you that he was and is a false idol."

He pulled out a few pages of notes. Twilight recognized them instantly.

Oh Celestia, she thought, her eyes widening. My speech. He kept my speech.

Spike held the photo up high, and turned his head to look up at it. He pressed a button on his vest, and a gout of flame burst from his mask, setting the photo of Soarin' alight. Twilight assumed it was what Spike used as a replacement for his regular flame, and felt the slightest pang of pity for him, for some unknown reason.

"Let me tell you the truth about Soarin'," continued Spike, focusing on the speech in his other hand as the photo burned, "in the words of Ponyville's own police commissioner, Twilight Sparkle."

Scootaloo looked up from her packing. Twilight was shuddering in her seat.

Spike began to read aloud from the speech. He read with enthusiasm, and Twilight hated his guts more than she had ever hated anything in the moment when she realized he was enjoying this.

"'The truth about Soarin' is simple in only one regard--it has been hidden for too long. After his devastating injuries, Soarin's mind recovered no better than his mutilated face. He was a broken, dangerous stallion, not the crusader for justice that I, Twilight Sparkle, have portrayed him to be for the past eight years. Soarin's rage was indiscriminate. Psychopathic.

"'He held the mare I loved at gunpoint, then fell to his death over the struggle for her life. The Batmare did not murder Soarin'--she saved my wife.'"

Twilight was crying, but she didn't notice. She was trying to concentrate on the screen in front of her, and not the furious pegasus breathing heavily behind her.

"'Then the Batmare took the blame for Soarin's appalling crimes, so that I could, to my shame, build a lie around this fallen idol.'"

Twilight let out a single sob, and lowered her head into her hooves.

"'I praised the mad-colt who tried to murder my own wife.'"

The crowd on the TV had fallen silent now, appalled by the things that Spike was saying.

"'The things we did in Soarin's name brought desperately needed security to our streets. But I can no longer live with my lie. It is time to trust the ponies of Ponyville with the truth, and it is time for me to resign.'"

That was all he said. Spike folded the papers up and looked out into the crowd.

"Well? Do you accept this mare's resignation?"

Nopony answered at first. Then, from the back of the crowd, Twilight heard a few ponies start shouting.

"YES!"

More voices joined in. Inside the prison, the inmates were all shouting their acceptance of Twilight's decision. One of the cameras zoomed in on the face of what appeared to be the only mare in the prison. The look on her face gave no clue as to what she thought of all this.

"Do you accept the resignation of all the liars?" Spike demanded to know. "All the corrupt?"

"YES!!!" The entire crowd was in a rage. Spike turned to his goons, and nodded. They nodded back, and approached the prison.

What happened next was a montage of chaos that would have made the Joker proud. The prisoners were freed, in crowds, and given weapons, which were promptly used on some of the pones not cheering in the crowd with them. The female prisoner, who had slunk out after everypony else, now was slinking away again, out of the sight of the camera. Spike disappeared off-screen as the camera-pony was attacked, presumably by one of the armed escapees.

Twilight turned off the TV. Her eyes were leaking tears. Scootaloo saw this, and she felt like smacking the lavender unicorn. She did not, though, and went back to packing. All she said was, "There were over a thousand ponies locked up in there for eight years without right to a trial. Based on a lie."

Twilight keeled over, off the couch, and fell to the floor, where she lay motionless. Scootaloo simply checked to see she hadn't died, then went back to her work.

The hours, days, and weeks that followed were broadcast over the airwaves of Equestria. Spike's voice rang out on every radio, TV, and computer in more than half of the homes in the country. His prophecies came to light as he spoke of them.

"For an army will be raised..."

Mercenaries hounded the streets, armed with the arsenal they had received from their new leader. THey looted, killed, and did other things besides to the ordinary citizens of Ponyville. Even those who were not part of this congregation joined, eady to get revenge on the ponies who had cheated them out of the luxury they so deserved.

Hotels were ransacked. Apartment buildings were looted. Doormen either joined the insurrection, or were shoved out of the way. Murderers, convicts, former inmates, anarchists, vandals, and even simple opportunists cheered as they heped themselves to the goods of the rich and famous.

"The powerful will be ripped from their decadent nests..."

In one of the grandest of penthouses in the city, the looters came across the owner hiding under one of his many luxurious pieces of furniture. He was old, too old to run from them, and they yanked him out from under his hiding spot. The looters took turns spiting on him, then tore him to pieces, quite literally. The old colt's blood soaked and ruined a Persian rug that he'd gotten for his much younger wife a year ago, for her birthday. His wife, now unknowingly a widow, was held up in the bedroom, where she was forced to "handle" several of the looters at once.

The penthouse was trashed in minutes.

"...And cast into the cold world the rest of us have known and endured..."

Some of the apartment owners were luckier than the poor penthouse owner, but not by much. After being violated and otherwise beaten, they were cast out from their once-shimmering palaces, to live on the streets as the hobos they'd upturned their noses at in another life had.

On one street, Fancypants sat mumbling to himself. he was wondering where his wife was, and whether or not she'd ever return to him. For her sake, he mumbled, he hoped not.

He suckled on the wrapper of a candy bar, giggling madly and swiping at his greasy turquoise mane. It had been a week since he'd been found at the bar.

"Courts will be convened..."

The Stock Exchange, a once-great palace of money and value, was now a makeshift courthouse, with the honorable Judge Cranky D. Donkey, formerly a crazed killer, presiding over all who entered. He made judgments on the guilty, and all who were brought in here were guilty.

As he sentenced a former banker and his wife to death, Spike watched from afar, hidden in the large crowd of jeering ponies who acted as the jury.

"The spoils will be enjoyed..."

The ransacked hotels became Party Central. Dozens of former squatters came around to drink, have sex, do drugs, and anything else worth doing. Precious items were tossed across rooms, paintings were torn apart, there was a baseball game going on with a ruby for a ball. A drunken mare peed in the corner.

Through it all, Pinkie stood at the same window, fiddling with her long hair. She did not smile once.

"Blood will be shed..."

Shining Armor looked up at the daylight shining through the small crack in the dark that the storm drain provided. He winced as his wound burned again, and examined the gash along his right foreleg. He prayed that it wasn't infected, and hoped that if it was, somepony would send medicine, and soon. He would not die before seeing his wife again.

He was passed down a basket full of stale bread, moldy fruit, and cans of what was probably expired lunch meat. He pulled out a can for himself, and passed along the basket, hoping that it was enough for everypony and knowing it was not. His stomach growled, and he smacked the can against a rock, hoping to break it open without spilling the precious food inside.

He had long since given up on a rescue party. He dreamed often of Cadance's warmth, and woke up wondering what it really felt like.

"But the police will live, until they are ready to serve true justice..."

Somewhere, the reactor core glowed. A gauge slipped closer and closer to he red zone, indicating that Ponyville's eventual end was nearing. The bomb was secure, though, kept in place by the drakes who had followed Spike from the beginning.

"This great city will endure. Ponyville will survive."

The clock on the bomb ticked towards zero.

Far away, Rainbow Dash had seen enough. It was time to try again.

Gritting her teeth, she rolled off the cot and fell to the floor, landing on the sings that Spike had somehow rendered completely useless, with out cutting them off. She faced the area where the climb was taken, and planted her hooves on the ground, trying to push herself up.

Come on, you useless crap. Just one rep.

She had to begin again.