In the heart of the Hub, amidst various newspapers and printed articles, Twila let out a small snore, her head resting on the table. For four days she had been carefully monitoring the news feeds. While Spike, the girls, and she had come back to the farm, Roy and his squad were putting in appearances, heading west. Directly away from Mansfield.

It wouldn’t last forever, but it seemed for a time they could rest at home before their next move.

However, it also meant Twila had to stay cooped up in the Hub, lest anyone see Torani’s Most Wanted not escaping to the wilderness. So she had kept watch, making sure that her plan of making the others out as hostages had worked. So far, so good.

Next to her sleeping form sat the List, still unopened. None of them had wanted to deal with it, so soon after their ordeal to get it. Against the far wall, in organized stacks, taking up a few of the sleeping cots and a spare table, rested the loot from Jack and Dash’s heist. Four days later, they still hadn’t finished counting and valuing everything.

Despite her recent all-nighters and random sleeping schedule, Twila’s dreams had returned to normal. She thankfully slept soundly, no longer afraid for her brother or her friends. The decision had been made--and it had been the right one.

“You awake, Twila?” the voice of her loyal assistant called out as he made his way down under Jack’s barn and into the main room. When silence answered him, it didn’t take him long to see why. He couldn’t help the small chuckle that passed him. He walked down to the second floor of the Hub and came back up with a blanket, which he draped over her body. Waking her could wait for just a bit longer. Not much, he suspected, but just a bit.

He went to the kitchen and started up an espresso. The boy hated the stuff, but, despite not liking it either, Twila was going to want the caffeine boost. Finally, after it was done, he went back to her and gave her a gentle shake on the shoulder. “Hey,” he quietly said.

She murmured something, moving her shoulder a bit, but remained asleep.

“Come on,” he said, a bit more forcefully. “You gotta get up, Twila.”

Sleepily, she said, “Spike, come on--class isn’t for hours yet… Lemme sleep.”

“Class isn’t for a bit,” Spike joked, then frowned. “But we’re just about due for opening the List. The girls’ll be down here soon. We need you presentable.”

She opened her eyes, glaring at him through a bleary cloud of half-sleep. Her cheek was red where it had been laying on the desk and tufts of hair had frazzled here or there. “List? The girls?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling slightly as he patted a bit of her hair down. “They’ll be down in the Hub just about any time.”

Placing her forehead back on the desk, she groaned. “I was up too late. Again. But they said they were near to catching the strike team, so I wasn’t sure if we were going to have to leave right away and then…” She raised up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “Then I don’t remember, so I must have fallen asleep.”

“It’s OK. You’re not the only one keeping your eyes peeled about this, y'know--I’ve been listening in too. You should rest when you can. After all, no woman is an island.”

“Thanks, Spike,” she said with a small smile, then yawned. “Ooooh. Is that, ugh, coffee I smell?”

“Kinda. Espresso. Not nearly as good as black, but it should jolt you up a bit better.” He offered the cup to her.

She took it with a grimace. “Why does this stuff have to work so well? Oh well, I’ll have a mug of tea later.” With practiced swiftness, she downed the small cup in one gulp, feeling the warm chemicals almost immediately take effect. “Ugh. OK, I’ll be awake in about five minutes now--thanks, Spike.”

“Yeah.”

He sat down next to her and absentmindedly flipped through the camera feeds. Twila started stretching some of her stiffened joints, rubbing life back into her tired muscles. She was fixing her hair, when he said, “It’s like an on-off switch. O-or binary code, you know?”

“Huh?” Twila asked, perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

“How quick things have changed. At the party--we were all on. We were like, uh, an exposed nerve. Now? We’re all sort of numb again. The past few days have been Jack hauling feed, waiting on Mac to get back in touch with her, Dash working on cars, Chylene and Pinkie taking care of their animals, and me, with Rarity at her shop. H-helping Rarity at her shop,” he quickly corrected, then ran a hand through his hair. “The only one missing is you. If you were at the library, and the town wasn’t under surveillance, it'd feel like the same routine we’ve been doing for years.” He clenched his hand into a loose fist and slowly hit it into his palm. “I-I liked that routine.”

Spike finally shrugged. “I dunno. I’m just talking dumb. Go ahead and ignore me.”

The young woman rested a hand on Spike’s, squeezing it gently. “I liked it too, Spike,” she said quietly, giving a sad smile. “And I think we have to do it that way--otherwise it would all be too much. Too crazy. People can go through years of training, readying themselves for something just like what we’re trying to do, then still come home with post-traumatic stress disorder or worse. It’s not normal, Spike.” She let out a sigh. “But at the same time...clinging to our old routines isn’t just a defense against breaking down. It’s also defending the routines themselves. So after the crazy is over we have someplace to come back to, something to hold onto as we risk our lives.”

She squeezed his hand a little tighter, waiting till he met her eyes. He marveled at the confidence he saw there. He felt so reassured at the truth ringing in her next words.

“It’s not over, Spike. None of it is, and that’s why we can still do it--because Home will still be waiting, as long as we’re all together fighting for it.”

Spike returned the squeeze, opening his mouth to reply.

Then a series of loud thumps down the stairs broke the conversation entirely. Pinkie, in her own impossibly amazing way, skipped down the stairs, fluffy alligator slippers adorning her feet. Spike and Twila stared as she continued to skip towards the table.

She took a seat next to Twila, then looked at the pair. “Hi, guys! What’s up?”

Letting go of Spike, Twila replied, “I am, for one. Good morning, Pinkie--is Chylene with you?”

Spike added, “How’re the animals?”

“Chylene’s just feeding them now, I think. She’ll be down with the others in a minute or two. Maybe three.” She stared at Twila, brow furrowing. “You look waaaay too tired. Have you been getting your forty winks?”

Waving an inconsequential hand, Twila said, “It’s not a big deal. I lost more sleep studying for finals at the Academy.” Spike nodded knowingly.

“No big deal?” Pinkie scratched her cheek, raising an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it you who told me the importance of sleep after I partied hard for a week straight?” She let out a brief chuckle as she remembered all the fun she had stuffed into those days.

Stretching her arms up and yawning again, Twila said, “That was because you were also consuming caffeine and sugar by the truckload. And dancing and playing and singing and all sorts of things. I was just keeping tabs on the news. Not nearly so stressful on the body.”

“Details, details.” Diane waved her hand about like was trying to swat a fly, then prodded Twila’s chest. “But you better get at least some sleep, alright? I’ll even tuck you in and sing a night time song, if ya want.”

Stifling a laugh, Twila said, smiling, “Thanks, Pinkie--you’ll be the first I call. I promise.”

The sound of a door closing, followed by heavy, booted footsteps, announced Jack’s presence. She announced it herself with a far too enthusiastic, “Hey, ya’ll! G’mornin’!” as she came down the steps, Dash quick on her toes.

“Man, bookworm, you look like shit,” the athlete said flatly.

“Dash!” Jack quickly hissed out to the woman.

“Good morning, Jack,” Twila said to the farmer. To Dash, she replied, “I recall a certain athlete walking down Main in her underwear one hungover morning. I think I can take a few baggy eyes and stray hairs.”

Isabelle rubbed at the back of her head. “I’ll give you that one, egghead. Damn, was that a night...”

Ignoring her, Twila asked Jack, “How was breakfast?”

“Hashbrowns an’ ham with cheese. I can run an’ get ya a plate once we’re done talkin’. Made way too much, since I’m used ta cookin’ fer…” She frowned. “Hope that big son of a bitch is alright. Alice too.”

“He’s your brother,” Dash stated. “Of course he’ll be fine. Hella good genes.” After a beat, the lithe woman smirked. “Though you did just call your mom a ‘bitch.’”

Jack ran the words back in her mind. Finally, she put a hand to her hip. “Shut up, sweetie.”

There was a beat of silence, then Twila erupted into laughter, banging on the table lightly as she tried to stifle it. The others looked at her, concerned. Pinkie joined in. “I-I’m sorry!” she said between guffaws. “It’s...hahaha--early, still a little loopy. But that”--she pointed at the couple--“is s-so--heh heh, hahaha--normal, it’s funny.”

Isabelle spared a glance Jack’s way. “Normal, huh? Guess I am always having to clean up thunder thigh's messes.” She shrugged, lifting her hands dramatically in the air as Jack shot a venomous glare back at her. “The curse of dealing with a farmer.”

Resting her head in her hands, Twila wiped away a tear and said, “I meant the two of you, being adorable and affectionate. In your own ways. Or Pinkie’s caring innocence. Rarity and Chylene going back to work. All of you. Being you. So much has changed so quickly, but not you guys. You’ve all weathered the storm so far.”

“Damn right. She’s a blockhead, but nothing’s stopping my girl.” Dash reached up and slapped Jack on the back. The farmer frowned, but nodded.

“Y-yeah. This ain’t nothin’, sug,” Jack agreed, then quickly glanced to the side, rubbing at an arm in thought.

“I think you’re still you as well, Twila,” Chylene said, having quietly entered during Twila's loud laughter.

“I think… I think we’re all becoming more ourselves, if that makes any sense,” Twila said thoughtfully. “To do the things we’ve done can tear a heart in two. So we hold onto ourselves even tighter…” She clenched a fist. “To protect who we are, to preserve it. But in doing so, we learn so much more. About ourselves. About each other.” Blushing, she gave a small chuckle and scratched her neck. “Sorry--guess I’m trying to look at it like one of my old lessons.”

“Lessons? You could well be a teacher!” Pinkie suddenly slammed the table with a hand, squirming. “Oh oh oh oh! Wait—no, a professor! Professor Twila of Friendship and Kicking Serious Butt,” she finished with a serious nod.

“Please,” Rarity called as she descended the steps. “Twila could teach on a great deal of subjects far more sophisticated than that, Pinkie.”

“Amount of books she reads? Damn right she could,” Dash agreed as she crossed her arms.

“You could learn a thing or two from her,” Jack shot back, nodding in greeting towards the tailor.

“Um, I think Pinkie’s point was that she’s just as strong as she thinks we are.” Chylene shuffled in place, arms folded. “I don’t think I’m particularly brave, but if Twila thinks I am…” she added, more quietly, as if that was even possible for her.

Giving the timid woman’s shoulder a gentle rub, Rarity said, “We all know you’re brave, sweetie. You just show it differently. Now,” she directed her words at everyone, “have I missed the unveiling?”

“Just in time,” Spike replied, smiling at her. “Busy morning at the shop?”

“Not really, no,” she said, just a little disappointed. “I was mostly packing things away and the like. And I called Mother and Father, too, to check up on them and Sweetie.”

“How are they doing? Anyone, uh, try to do something to them?”

“They’re apparently putting on a good face, enraged that the Camelot police let me be abducted. Beyond that, they’re just fine--and glad we’re all safe.” She frowned. “I was going to tell them the truth but… Well, it never really came up. So I decided it could wait.”

Spike thoughtfully hummed. “I bet it’d be a hard thing to introduce. Guess I’m lucky--my family’s already neck-deep in this.” He paused, putting a hand to his chin. “Well, at least fairly lucky. Guess if I was lucky, none of this would be happening…”

“Ya can’t complain ‘bout the cards ya got dealt, Spike,” Jack said. “It is what it is. We jus’ have ta do what we can, with what we have.”

After a moment of silent agreement, Twila asked, “So...shall I?” She sounded somewhat nervous.

“Do it, sug. It ain’t gonna do us no favors leavin’ it shut,” Jack said. The others nodded their assent, curiosity and eagerness spread among their features.

Gingerly, as if expecting it to explode or perhaps contain some sort of deadly poison, Twila lifted the envelope. For what they risked to get it, she felt ridiculous when feeling how minuscule it really was. It couldn't have contained more than a dozen pages, at most.

A dozen pages against the lives of her six best friends? She shivered at the thought.

Pushing on, she gave it a scholarly tap against the desk before unwinding the string tying it closed. Twila lifted the lip and, with one quick motion, slid the packet on the table in front of her.

It was simple but quality paper, bound by a few loose stitches and two laminated pages. The front was blank.

She moved it in front of her, opening the first page, and began reading as the others looked on from behind her. Back and forth, her eyes raced across the small print, absorbing the information with the practice of years of lengthy studying. Turning the page, she saw that it was all of similar look--small print in an organized, listed format, detailing the Tyrant’s plans.

As Twila flipped through the pages, the others remained silent, attempting--and failing--to keep up. Rarity, with her keen tailor’s eyes, managed to catch a few names here or there. Some she recognized, but without the context of the rest of the document, she was clueless.

Quicker and quicker, Twila learned the terrible, terrible truth. It became a race in her mind--could she finish before the information tore through her sanity? A few minutes later, Twila flipped the last page, slamming the back flat on the desk with a whap. She sat there, her hand flat on the packet, her head leaning forward, her shoulders raising and lowering with deep, even breaths.

“What we got?” Dash asked, putting her hand on Twila’s shoulder.

“Guys…” Twila’s voice was little more than a whisper. “This…”

“Tell us, sug,” Jack replied, glancing at the rest of the group huddled around Twila.

She turned to look at them, a strained, near-panic look on her face. “This details her plans in their entirety, down to the last day. It’s like a countdown to the end of everything. It’s so...meticulous, ingenious… It’s perfect.” Twila’s voice carried a hint of awe. She looked back at the document. “It’s terrifying. So much worse than what Roy found out.”

She shook her head. “I’m...not sure there’s enough firepower in the world to stop a plan like this. Not that we could put together fast enough.” She flipped the packet, opening it again. She forced herself to look at it like a report--just the facts, related clear and concisely. “It starts off quiet, simple. Recon as she learns absolutely everything about Torani--no, the North’s culture, history, and resources...everything.”

She flipped a page. “Next is positioning. Look here,” she said, pointing. “She begins replacing officials from everywhere with her children, changing them. But bottom tier. Mayors, chiefs, ambassadors. Anyone who can make decisions, but only in a local level. Uses them to stir up trouble--which she worsens by then controlling the media.”

Another page. “Next is infiltrating the increased pacification forces that are raised in response. Police and military both. They’re le--”

“We saw them in the vault,” Jack said suddenly, shaking. “It weren’t pretty. Those...changed things…”

“Changelings,” Twila corrected. "That's the word she uses--it's a creature, a shapeshifter, found in all sort of mythologies."

“Changelings it is, then,” Jack said with a nod. “They ain’t right. They’re stronger’n a Somani clan leader, quicker’n a Kvaat Talon scout, and just plain--”

“Fucking nuts!” Dash cut in. “Bastards started eating and tearing through people like they was wet noodles.”

“Yuck,” said Pinkie. “That almost makes wet noodles sound icky.”

“That’s part of the problem,” Twila noted. “We’re very unsure precisely what Chyrsalis’ forces are, let alone capable of. But back to changing the military and police. They’re less protected since they’re being deployed all over. And once she has them, combined with their leadership, they’ll never leave.”

Another page. “Next are those who oppose her plan. They’ll be vocal--meaning she has very easily weeded out those who could be convinced to join her, like Blueblood, and those who would unite to stop her.

“With all the politicians and leaders changed, now public opinion doesn’t matter. Those who call the shots call her shots. But there won’t be an outcry because everyone will be too busy looking askance at everyone else--just waiting for the war to start.”

Turning the page, her voice cracked as she continued, “Then...mass changings are organized. Town by town, city by city, in a slow, methodical sweep, leading to the Queen. We’re rounded up, herded. And...she just says utilized efficiently until exhausted.”

Swallowing, the young woman asked, “But do you want to know the worst part?”

“I don’t want to…but I think we’ll have to,” Chylene replied.

“These are dated, to the day. And the mass changings?” She pointed to an isolated section, circled red. “Begin in a few months. It’s marked three months from now, but there’s some added notes that our actions have delayed her some. We caught her by surprise. But not much.”

“Then we gotta hurry! And er, um, do…something!” Pinkie exclaimed, tapping the table with her index finger.

“Goddamn right,” Jack agreed. “We’ve went in this much, might as well go all the--”

“You don’t get it!” Twila cried, leaping up from her seat. “Look at those lists! Look at all those names--all the people changed already!” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her words to Spike earlier, the hope she had felt--where had that gone? The words she read, the situations they played out... They were clean, efficient, perfectly without excess or want. Chrysalis' plan plain and simply had no room for hope, so how could there possibly be any?

She said through clenched teeth, “There’s just too much and too little time. So. Much. If we want even a whisper of a hope of a chance--and we’re practically alone. We need more people, not just here, but everywhere in Torani! All at once. We’d need half a dozen teams, at least. Cutting her funds, stealing information, sowing chaos, blowing up supplies, gathering allies…”

She hung her head limply. “We’re just one group. We can’t do everything nearly fast enough going one by one. We just can’t.”

“We fuckin’ try,” Dash snapped.

“That’s right!” Rarity added. “Think about what we’ve already done. Wouldn’t we have thought it impossible not too long ago? Why should this be any different?”

“Because, Rarity, Dash. I’m a planner. Organization and scheduling is something I do very, very well. And this plan? I can tell it’s flawless. But I think it’s just the surface plan, too. I think Chrysalis has backups and side plans and probably red herrings… I’m not saying we don’t try, we don’t fight. But where do we start?”

Pinkie was surprisingly quiet throughout all of the discussion, rubbing her chin with a deep, thoughtful expression on her face. She looked to Twila, then at all her friends. “Hmm…” She blinked, standing up like a bullet from a gun. “Wait! I know!"

Surprised, Twila stammered, "Y-you do, Pinkie? I mean--tell me!"

"Everywhere!" the baker said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jack and Dash groaned as Twila put a hand to her forehead. "Pinkie," she said, "do I have to teach you how physics work again?"

"Ew, no thanks," Pinkie replied. "That was all lines and problems and no fun at all."

"Sug, we can't all be everywhere at once," Jack said calmly.

Laughing, Pinkie said, "Duh! Silly-billies. All of us can't be everywhere, but each of us can be!"

"Run that by me again, Pinks," Dash said, scratching her head.

"Yes, I'm confused too," added Rarity.

"I think what she means," Chy explained, "is that together as one group we can't accomplish everything. But if we go out in smaller groups, we can get more done at one time?"

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pinkie, that’s…” Twila stopped, blinking. “That’s…” She looked at each of them. Half a dozen different teams… “Pinkie, you’re brilliant!”

“Huh? Oh, thanks! I thought I was just pointing out the obvious though,” she said, with a shrug.

“I ain’t sure if I’m behind this…” Jack started, putting her hands to her sides and thoughtfully kicking at the floor. “I mean, it ain’t like we could swoop ta one-another’s aid if somethin’ goes sour.”

“I agree, Jack, but…” Twila raised her hands. “I’m not seeing any other options here. I don’t… I don’t want to split up. If something were to happen, something that one of us could have stopped…” She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe…we don’t split up completely. No fewer than two of us with any operation. That way our backs are always covered.”

“And couldn’t you get the strike team in on this, Twila?” Spike added. “Plus whoever is left to trust--with that list we’ll know for sure now!”

“Spike’s right, dear,” said Rarity. “No more jumping at shadows, suspecting everyone of being changed. We’re not completely alone. Not anymore.”

“Give us all a copy of the list, and I’m sure we’ll manage,” Chylene added.

Twila gave one firm nod. “If you’re all willing… We can take a day, maybe a few days. I’ll put together dossiers for each of you. Targets we need to strike as soon as possible. People to recruit.” Her mind already swam with ideas, prioritizing and planning based upon each of their strengths. It was dangerous--but wasn't this war? Together or alone, there were risks. And the stakes were no less than all sentient life as they knew it. “Girls. Spike. I think we have a plan.”

“Hit us,” Jack replied, nodding.

“I appreciate the confidence, but I’m not that fast,” Twila replied. “I can have the details by tomorrow. I’ll contact the strike team, a few people on this list… You all have your own preparations.” Her tone turned firm. “Once we start this, there’s no going back. She’ll know. Your friends, your families… They need to be taken care of. And I think it would be a good idea to start compiling our forces in one place.”

“But where? Obviously not here, ‘cause they’ll check here first thing,” Pinkie said.

“I got some land--belonged ta my Granny. Maybe there?” Jack offered.

“That’s somewhere to the south of here, right? A lot of old forest, or swampland?” asked Twila.

“Southeast, near the coast.” Jack quickly agreed.

“And too much fuckin’ swamp,” Isabelle huffed, crossing her arms.

“That’s perfect,” said Twila.

“Does it really have to be there?” whined Rarity.

“Come on, it ain’t that bad,” Jack offered. “‘Skeeters ain’t even bad in her neck of the woods.” She sprouted a devilish grin. “Jus’ gotta watch out fer gators.”

“Alligators? Oh, I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Chylene said, smiling softly.

“Yeah! With Gummy too!” Pinkie chirped, her pet somehow chewing on her hair.

“So we’re agreed. The war starts now. Everything we do saves lives. So let’s do it right.” Twila said, confidently. “It’ll be tough, girls...but if anyone can get through this, I think it’s us, even going our separate ways.”

“Guess it might be a bit before we see one-another again, huh?” Spike quietly realized, glancing towards the tailor. “Can’t say I’ll be happy about that.”

Chewing on the idea for a moment, but only a moment, Twila said, “Hey, Spike? I want you to go with Rarity.”

He turned to face her, looking shocked. “What? Twila, I can’t do that.”

Putting on a stern face, she put her hands on her hips and replied, “You can; you will. I’ve got someone else I need to find, anyway. There’s a certain misguided nobleman whose priorities I need to straighten out.”

“But…” He swallowed, then bit his lip, slowly nodding. “If something happens. Contact me. I know a guy--he’ll mail you a disposable phone programed with a proxy number that I can be reached at.” He looked at all of them, briefly taking command. “That goes for everyone else. My eyes are going to be cloudy, but I’ll be watching you guys.”

“That’s our Spike,” said Rarity. “We all know we’re in good hands with you behind the scenes. And I’ll help however I can.”

“I’d like that,” he agreed, then shyly smiled, blushing heavily. “Maybe I could even teach you a trick or two--get you in the hotseat.”

Happy to see the young man she had practically raised as her own growing up,Twila got a thoughtful look and nudged Diane. “Maybe we should celebrate one last time before we part ways, eh?”

“Definitely!” Pinkie spread her arms out and managed to bring everyone together for a group hug. “Make sure you all bring journals! I can only be in one place, but if I get to read what you all did, it'll be like I got to have all the fun with you. Then I don't have to feel so bad going with just Chy."

"Oh, thanks, Pinkie," Chy said. "It'll be a lot nicer with you there."

"Not a problem!" Pinkie said, squeezing the group extra tight. "Oh, and guys?"

They all looked at her, wondering what Pinkie wisdom she was going to share.

“The party boat leaves now! Let's do our best and give that mean ol' Chrysalis a real surprise!"