I am still alive.

In good news, Sugarlump got to keep her job as I did see her up at the post office today. She also kept her word to me, and I now have a sweater. I do not think that I look good in pastel colors, especially pink and lavender, but she would not take no for an answer. I also did not wish to cause an uncomfortable situation for her, so I accepted the small gift and have been wearing it all day, much to Ms. Rarity's disapproval. "Benjamen, what in the world are you wearing? I don't want to be rude, but that is not very complimentary. If you needed something warmer, you could have just said something! I would have been happy to make a jacket for my assistant." I believe that is rather close to what she said when she saw me wander back into the Boutique wearing this eyesore.

I met with the crusaders, as promised, after my routes. They had told me to meet them at Sugar Cube Corner, so that is where I was headed. The three of them were already staring at a map of Ponyville while seated at a small, round table near the front window when I entered. They seemed a bit too engrossed with their thoughts and hushed discussion to notice me.

Mr. Cake had noticed me, however, as he waved for me to approach the counter. "Well, good afternoon, Ben! Should I get the extinguisher, or is this just a social visit?" At first I thought I should just leave since they might still be upset with me, but by the disarming grin on his bristly face, I think he was just poking at me for fun.

"Just a social visit today, Mr. Cake. I try to keep my arsons down to once a month if possible." The fact that he chuckled settled my nerves as I excused myself to take care of my current obligation.

Hearing my voice, the three crusaders immediately perked up and ushered me over to their table for a seat.

"Nice sweater," Scootaloo prodded at me under a snicker while Sweetie Bell examined it curiously. I can guess that she probably liked the colors, but no doubt the biting of her lip I saw was to keep from sputtering out a chuckle at my fashion disaster.

"C'mon you two, we've still gotta lot of plannin' to do," Applebloom reminded them as she tried to get everyone to focus back on the map.

"I see you all have created a path," I mentioned, noting the very peculiar pathways marked in thin, colored wax. (They call the strange writing utensils that make these marks crayons.) I was informed that, yes, they had begun planning without me and had already outlined the first portion of the day's events with a set path. This bothered me only because the path they had laid out was a random assortment of lines sketched from location to location with no consideration for efficiency or time management. I can only guess that as they got ideas, they would simply make a mark from the last location to the next one. With a bit of protest, I had them get another map and instead write a list of ideas for each location. I explained that we would build a path afterward.

"Hey, while we're here, maybe we should try for a baking cutie mark," mentioned Sweetie Bell.

"Nope," Applebloom and I responded in unison. It seems she has had similar trouble with this issue in the past. "Perhaps you should ask around and see how some of the adults received theirs," I suggested. From the three crusaders came a resounding "No!" at my suggestion. Once again, this seems to have caused problems before. "Alright then, what have you already tried?" I received a list that I could not begin to recollect for this journal, as it seems they spend most days after school having misadventures for this sole purpose. Fighting back the spinning feeling in my head as I tried to quiet them, I made a new suggestion: "Alright, if you all are going to be doing such a comprehensive search, then you might need to organize your attempts a bit more." I informed them that what I could perceive to be the simplest way to search would be to pick a broad topic each day and exhaust all ideas that related only to that topic. I think they really took to the idea as well, since I saw topics start to get jotted down on the map quickly.

"How cool would it be to be a superhero? I've always wanted to be one!" That was the phrase that solidified what topic they would be working on today. Unbeknownst to me, they had all decided on that little fact before they escorted me back out to the field in which they would begin their practice. Once we had gotten there, they reached into saddlebags they had brought with them to grab brightly-colored cloaks. I watched with one brow raised as they recited some kind of cheer for their group and gave a celebratory press of their hooves to each other's before facing me once again with an exuberant bounce in their stance. That is when I made the mistake of asking them exactly what they had in mind. "We're going to make the Crusaders into an expert crime-fighting trio!"

"How exactly do you plan to do that?"

The response I got was less than inspiring: Their excited grins quickly faded into questioning glances between one another as they each shrugged their shoulders without an answer. "I guess we hadn't quite thought of that. Maybe we could try to unlock some neat super powers? Like shooting fire out of our eyes!" Scootaloo suggested.

"Or super strength?" Applebloom commented, as she lifted her hind legs long enough to bash a tree with her hooves to very unimpressive effect.

"Invisibility!" shouted Sweetie Bell as well.

"Impossible," I corrected, shaking my head as I felt my teeth grit in frustration: Today was already going to be a waste, I could feel it, but a promise was a promise. That does not mean that I could not expedite their search with some trial by fire, however: Sometimes the only way to learn to fly is to fall a few times. Giving them the answers would never teach them anything, so to ensure they did the thinking themselves, I took a bold move. I stepped forward, whisked Sweetie Bell up into my arms, despite her protests, and began walking away from them towards the forestry on the other side of the field. The small unicorn remained stunned, cradled over my shoulder, as she was carried off from her two friends who blinked in confusion. "Ben? Ben! What are you doing?" Scootaloo called after me.

"Kidnapping your friend!" I shouted back as I continued my leisurely walk away with my prize in tow.

"I thought you were going to help us today!" Applebloom cried out as well.

"Super Heroes help others along with themselves!" I responded, finally pushing through one of the tree lines and breaking their line of sight with me.

Regaining her composure enough to realize what was happening, Sweetie Bell pulled herself up from over my shoulder to glance at me with a wary tilt of her head. "So wait, where are you taking me exactly?" I merely shrugged my shoulders at her as I had no idea. I was acting before thinking on this one. "Why do I have to be the kidnapee anyway? I wanted to be a superhero too, you know!"

"Then save yourself," I challenged her.

"From what? You haven't put me into peril yet!" When I asked what she was going on about, she informed me that I was not playing my role of master villain well at all. "Well, first you need to take me back to your evil fortress of doom and gloom. Then you have to strap me into your diabolical device meant to put me out of your way in your goal to take over Equestria. Before you finish me off though, you have to give your villainous monologue describing just how your hyper-intellect came to be used for evil. Then you can turn on the device, and I have to make a miraculous escape! That's how this is supposed to go."

"A few problems there: I don't have an evil fortress, I don't have a diabolical device for the purpose of dismembering or disabling you, I don't have a lengthy monologue prepared for this occasion, I'm not hyper-intelligent, and I really don't think I'm comfortable devising a way to try to hurt you."

Sweetie Bell gave a loud groan of frustration at my lack of preparation for this, but assured me that she could help me out in my role. The first step was securing a fortress, which she informed me that the Crusader's Clubhouse would work perfectly as with a bit of touch-up. It was rather neat to see their clubhouse once she had given me the directions to get there. I had asked if she wanted to walk alongside me instead, but she insisted that I carry her as my prisoner the whole way there. It was tiring, but she's not so heavy that I had too much trouble. The inside was fairly bare, with the exception of posters tacked onto the wall to avoid the whole place appearing plain (I had a few questions when I saw one of Rainbow Dash posted up), but there was enough furniture inside to still impress me that they had been able to acquire it. Another surprising fact was that my head did not hit the ceiling of their little structure when I stood in it. The next step, she informed me, was to create a device with the intention of silencing her forever, but I just happened to let her down when I told her that I had no experience dealing with conveyor belts or railroad tracks. Should I be flattered that she said she had expected a smarty pants like me to be more apt for this position? Either way, I simply took some of the string they had within the housing and braided it into a makeshift rope to strap Sweetie Bell down onto the table so she would stop rebuking me for my lack of evil aptitude. As for my diabolical device, I simply placed a pail of paint I had found within the clubhouse onto the table next to her and told her 'that' was what would happen: Not lethal, but it certainly did get her to shriek shrilly at the thought of her white pelt being painted olive green.

"So, out with it," Sweetie bell finally told me as she blew strands of her mane away from her nose while I tried to find a position on their sofa that was not trying to shove a spring somewhere I did not want it. I informed her I did not know what she was expecting from me. "Don't act dumb now! You have to give your speech! Your devilish monologue that explains how your genius turned to dastardly affairs? Come on! I can't try to escape until after I hear it."

"Once upon a time, I tried to do something nice for somebody and got roped into being the unwitting fall-guy for the unsupervised and recklessly thought-out attempts to spark the puberty of three restless children. The end."

"Ugh, fine, whatever. I guess that's good enough," Sweetie Bell groaned.

"So, now go ahead. Escape," I remarked, motioning with my hand for her to begin. "No using your horn either. Since all unicorns have magic, that's not superpony powers."

Perhaps an hour passed of listening to her strain and struggle, panting for breath as she was unable to break free of even the half-hearted braiding of my pseudo-ropes. I had to go get her some water halfway through because she got thirsty from all the effort, but she was a good sport overall. Every time I'd ask if she was done and wanted me to just let her go, she told me no and to just keep being evil on the sofa while she figured this out. Too bad her friends decided to drop in before she could deduce a way to make her escape.

Subtlety is evidently not their strongest suit. I saw the two young ponies come sprinting towards my 'lair of doom and gloom' from the only side that actually had a window on it. Poor choice I figured, but there was no way for their first time to be perfect. Applebloom and Scootaloo stopped about ten yards away and began assembling some sort of device I could not make out from this distance, but I did not have to wait long to see it in action. A muffled clap was heard in my fortress, and a clink sounded against the roof, which I saw came from whatever their device was firing off: A metal hook. I can surmise that they actually rigged up a primitive crossbow to launch it. Impressive to say the least. With the hook in place on the roof, the two of them grasped onto the rope attached and anchored it to a nearby tree securely so they could crawl along the length of the rope to get to the roof. I watched as Applebloom fell off the rope twice and onto her back, needing to go back to the start and begin working her way up all over again.

Anatomy Discovery: I have noticed that without digits, it must be rather difficult for these creatures to complete tasks that require fine motor skills. The unicorns seem to do well enough due to the fact that they can use their telekinetic abilities with precision, but the earth and pegasus ponies do not have this ability. Most objects that require fine motor skill usage are held in the mouth, such as writing utensils. To understand less fine grasping, this shenanigan with the rope did give me a good look at how they were able to grip it. I witnessed that Scootaloo and Applebloom both wrapped their lower legs and hooves around the rope to secure them. The bone structure of their legs is very difficult to discern (unlike the horses back on Terriel) from just a glance, but this might explain why their legs have a bit more of a uniform thickness from the joint at the abdomen down to the hoof. Instead of having one or two joints in the leg, from what I saw of the two fillies holding their branches, their front legs must contain a multitude of smaller ball joints or discs. I ruled out the concept of them being made of cartilage due to the fact that they are still able to hold up their own weight with little trouble. If I could find a book on anatomy, or perhaps a skeletal diagram of a pony, I could give a bit more detail and accuracy to my hypothesis. It seems that most ponies are hesitant to use the bodies of deceased for research, however, so there is very little information present in books as to what the inside of a pony looks like or how it functions. I will do some more scouring at the library to try to confirm my thoughts at a later time.

Once they were on the roof, Sweetie Bell and I got quiet to listen to the two of them argue about how best to handle the next step. Applebloom eventually became frustrated and told Scootaloo to just step back and let her take care of it. With a heave, I saw what looked to be the end of a saw blade jut through the ceiling and begin grinding in and out to cut a crude circle in the roof. When the wooden patty landed with a loud thud in front of me, the two young ponies finally dropped in with boisterous "Aha!"s at my expense. "We have you now, Ne'er do well! Your reign of terror is at an end, Pastel Problem-maker!" erupted Scootaloo, pointing specifically at my sweater once more.

As I stood up to congratulate them on their unique entrance, I was greeted with a hoof connecting with me in a vague punch. Because of our height difference, it landed uncomfortably right below my waist and sent me to the ground crumpled and gasping. While I was cringing and trying to unscrew my eyes from the unexpected pain, they must have let Sweetie Bell off the table and began excitedly repeating their cheer once again for their successful extraction.

"Did we get them?" one of them asked aloud.

"No doubt," I struggled to cough out, finally able to breathe easily again as I slowly pushed myself back to my feet.

"Where!? Where!? I don't see it, what is my cutie mark? Did we really get them?" they asked me again, evidently having missed the point of my comment. Probably for the best, I figured, as I shuffled my way to the door with a half-hearted wave in their direction.

"Where you going, Ben?"

"I'm done, you did it. You got your superhero training. Now you can keep looking without me." It was a very long and uncomfortable walk back to the boutique, and it was not even peaceful when I finally made it back there to get some rest. Rarity saw the sweater I was wearing, but this time with a bit of paint dripped onto it by accident and layers of leaves and woodland refuse caught in its fibrous, wooly texture. I had to relinquish it for a wash, and then be told that I should be more careful with my belongings. Sure, whatever. At least today is over. Now maybe I can look towards some peace and painless progress.