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>The sun is looming overhead with a predatory vigor.
 
>Anon, feeling not entirely unlike a prey, sweats and grunts his way up a flight of stairs embedded next to a grassy hill.
"They should've never buried the parking lot next to this stupid hill."
 
>He is halfway up the hill to the Science & Engineering building when he spots a pale blue wizard.
>She's very busy snoring her afternoon away.
>Anon walks over and sits next to her on the grassy hill. Ten minutes until next class.
 
"You're here early."
>Trixie opens one of her eyes, then pushes Anon away playfully.
>"Oh please, I'm not in the mood for your lectures today."
"And not in the mood for actual lectures either, apparently."
>Trixie remains silent, staring at the cloudless sky.
 
"Come on, Trix. You can't keep skipping classes like this. You must be weeks behind on the material by now."
>"So what?"
>Trixie signs, frustrated.
>She gets up, makes sure nobody's around, then begins juggling globs of rainbow magic in front of her.
 
>"I can literally cast spells. Energy out of thin air, Anonymous! How in the world am I supposed to reconcile with the lectures, knowing full well that I can break any of those physical laws at a whim?"
"I hop portals and pilot spaceships. That doesn't stop *me* from—"
 
>Trixie tosses one of the globs to Anon. It's strangely warm and comforting in his hands, before evaporating into nothingness.
>"What you do is still bound by the laws of physics, Anonymous. Magic is different. It's physics, chemistry, logic, mathematics... everything run through a blender to stir for eons then sprinkled with guesstimates for flavor."
>Trixie falls back down again, letting out a frustrated grunt. The grass crunches in complaint.
>"I-I just need some time, Anonymous. Away from all of this, maybe."
>She gestures at the campus around her.
 
 
>Anon sighs, getting up.
"You know, there's a small used bookstore next to the library. Big sale today. Maybe a good book or two might put your mind at ease."
>Trixie looks up at Anon.
>"Thanks, Anonymous. I'll keep that in mind."
>Anon smiles, climbing up the hill again and away from Trixie.
>"Hey, Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"Last week's copy of your notes were crapshoot. Your handwriting is abysmal."
"Beggars don't get to be choosers, Trix."
>They both smile.
 
 
>Trixie waits, feeling the time hurtle past her like breeze through time and space.
>She's still unsure whether show up to class for once.
>The indecision eats its way through her mind, and soon she's too distracted to even sustain the rainbow globs.
>She tosses them up in the air in frustration, watching them flutter away into nothingness.
>Maybe nothingness is what she needs.
 
>The clock tower rings twice, signifying the hour.
>2pm. Half an hour into her next class already.
>Deciding that it's too late to barge in unannounced, Trixie gets up.
>She briefly considers taking Anon's advice. Used books don't sound too bad.
>An unusual wave of indecision grips Trixie.
>Very unusual, she notes.
>It physically immobilizes her.
>The space around her seems to unravel.
 
>A metallic jingle snaps her out of her paralysis.
>Her keys are on the grass.
>Weren't they in her purse moments ago?
>She picks them up, suddenly unsure of her own surroundings.
>"Strange. Very strange."
>The space itself surrounding her feels like a flimsy curtain, ready to be breached.
>She finds that very disconcerting.
 
>Trixie begins heading down the hill.
>She decides to head home for the day.
 
 
- - - - - - -
 
 
>At the same point in time but not in space, a faded-rouge Firebird is parked outside a dilapidated barn house.
>There are streaks of orange where the previous owner tried to paint over the scratches.
>Sunset Shimmer, the current owner, finds it oddly enticing in a grungy way.
>She gets out of her tastefully ruined Firebird, then walks towards the barn house.
 
*ding-dong*
 
>A solidly built blonde man opens the door.
>"Heya Big Mac."
>"Eeyup."
>He welcomes Sunset, waving her inward. An ever-wrinklier Granny Smith is busy with a jigsaw puzzle on the table.
>"Eehhyuh, welcome back Sunny. Here to see Applebloom uhgain?"
>Sunset smiles.
>"Well, actually you called me here to investigate a "paranormal sighting," as you put it."
>The matriarch tilts her head, thinking.
>"Ohh-hh, right," she intones, suddenly remembering.
>She waves a dismissive hand at Big Mac.
>"Ehh, why duncha show her the thing, Big Mac? The stable-thing"
>The gentle giant nods, then gestures for Sunset to follow him.
 
>The stable is empty, except for the "thing."
>The structure is partially lit by a greenish jagged halo that keeps changing its shape.
>Star one second, circle the other.
>Sunset gets closer, trying to feel what kind of magic could be powering this breach.
 
>"So, you're saying this appeared last night?"
>"Eeyup."
>"Well, it sure isn't a "fist-sized ball lightning" anymore. It's definitely larger."
>"Eeyup."
 
 
>Sunset turns halfway into her demon form, just enough to transform her arm.
>She sticks her arm inside, then waits.
>Nothing.
>It just feels cold. Very cold.
>Still nothing.
>Sunset pulls her arm out.
>Dissatisfied, she begins taking pictures and EM readings.
>It is definitely another rogue interdimensional portal, something increasingly commonplace around the town.
>Roughly half of Sunset's house-calls were concerning these portals.
>It made her uneasy.
 
>"All done, Granny Smith."
>"—eeeah," says the aging matriarch, jolting up. Embarrassed at being caught dozing off in front of her jigsaw puzzle.
>"Nothing conclusive, I'm afraid," says Sunset, shuffling through her purse.
>"It *should* be safe for now. No instabilities, no scary monsters on the other side. If something does go wrong, though—"
>She puts her business card on the table, next to the half-assembled picture of an apple.
 
Sunset Shimmer, Private Eye
Supernatural Happenstances Specialist
tel: 555-1234
 
>"—please give me a call."
>Granny Smith nods.
>"Ah sure will, Sunny."
>Sunset looks around.
>"Say, where is Applebloom?"
>"Same thing she does every summer nowadays," groans Big Mac. "Playin' them awful Hyperspace Hyperwars with the crusaders."
>Sunset wonders if Anon has had anything to do with that.
 
>"Oh, before you go," says Granny Smith. Even her words seem to hobble these days.
>Sunset turns, stopping by hear car.
>"Would you tell Applejack she left one of her fancy shmancy space coins here last weekend? I can't do nothin' with them here in these shops."
 
 
- - - - - - -
 
 
>"—Miss Sparkle?"
>A lavender-haired scientist jolts up, trying to wipe the puddle of saliva with the sleeve of her lab coat.
>She looks up at a rather frustrated lab supervisor and her professor, all in one person.
 
>"Miss Sparkle, you're aware the times I've reiterated on the importance of retaining professionalism—"
>The supervisor points at a framed crochet piece on the wall. Her own handiwork.
 
Professionalism
At All Times! <3
 
>"—At. All. Times."
>Twi scratches her head apologetically.
>"Y-yes. Of course, Dr. Harshwhinny."
 
>Harshwhinny nods, satisfied.
>"Very well, Miss Sparkle. Now, I *want* those crystal samples ready to be tested by tomorrow. NO EXCUSES. Am I making myself clear?"
>Twi nods.
>"Yes, ma'am. Crystal clea—"
>Harshwhinny shoots her a no-puns-allowed glare.
>"...They'll be ready by tomorrow."
>"Good, Miss Sparkle."
>Anon's antics are rubbing off on her.
 
>The satisfied supervisor turns and makes her way back to her office.
>"—oh, and Miss Sparkle?"
>"Yes, Dr Harshwhinny?"
 
>She speaks up, probably for the benefit of the rest of the lab assistants than Twilight.
>Her back is still towards Twilight.
>"Just because you are the star student of this institution, it doesn't mean I'll be cutting you any slack. At all. Late samples are grounds for termination."
>She leaves, click-clak of her heels echoing down the hall.
 
>As soon as Harshwhinny is gone, Twi takes off her glasses and squeezes the bridge of her nose.
>How many hours had she slept? Three? Four?
>So many hours spent pouring over the coordinates Moondancer had given them.
>Anon had insisted that it didn't matter, that he's perfectly happy with Twilight.
>But Twi couldn't accept that. She *had* to find the whereabouts of Anon's original Twilight.
>It was for her own sake as much as his sake.
>She was a scientist.
>She had to SEE for herself.
 
 
- - - - - -
 
 
[Eight months ago]
 
>Moondancer sat there, letting her latest revelation sink into everyone.
>Silence fell across the table.
>Anon was the first to break the rime.
"What do you mean, her past?"
 
>Moondancer took another drag before saying anything.
>"Check the contents of the folder. Courtesy of MUPPET intelligence office."
>Twi took the beige folder marked [TOP SECRET] and opens it. Her hands were shaking.
>"Unlike your Sapphire Savior lot, we actually take the "intelligence" part of our job seriously. We don't whore out our agents to gather info, because we don't have to."
 
>"These reports," interrupted Twi. "You stole them from the High Council?"
>Moondancer shrugged, neither denying nor confirming.
>Twi's eyes began darting around the various documents. Page after page fell under her scrutinizing eyes.
>She put her hand over her mouth.
 
"Twi, what is it?"
>No response.
>Moondancer filled in in her stead.
 
>"Long story short, your universe split in two some years ago. You're the source, but we don't know where the copy is. That's how new multiverses are formed. All natural, no biggie."
>Moondancer flicks her burnt out cigarette, letting it spark and roll on the concrete floor. She lights a new one.
 
>"The problem arises when "wrong" persons are claimed by the wrong 'verses. Your Twilight—"
>"—I belong in the *other* universe," interjected Twi, her eyes still on the report. "And the *other* Twi belong in this one."
>Twi tossed the folder aside on the table, turning towards Anon.
 
>"Do you remember what you told Trixie? How you felt I was the *wrong* Twilight?"
>Anon stared uneasily at Twi and then Trixie, annoyed at this breach of confidentiality.
>Trixie rubbed her neck apologetically.
"Ye-e-e-s. You were a completely different person than what you were in middle school—"
>Twi took a deep breath, steadying herself.
 
>"What if I told you I felt the same way about you?"
>Anon raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
 
 
>"In middle school, I had a massive crush on a guy just like you. Exactly like you today."
>Twi's eyes darting around Anon's face.
>"Really smart. Sure of himself. He's the one who got me interested in physics. And science in general, actually."
>She blushed a little.
>"And fought off the bullies for me. My savior."
>Anon said nothing, partially in disbelief.
 
>"One day, he simply stopped coming to school. Transferred, moved, caught the flu, whatever."
>Twi began to tear up.
>"Without a trace! Even his house was replaced by a vacant lot owned by the city! I was CRUSHED."
>Anon clenched his jaw tight, everything finally clicking into place.
"So, that's when you began experimenting on... other Anons."
>Twi nodded.
>"I desperately wanted to find you. Him. Whomever. I ordered a bunch of Anon rejects from the Emerald Outlet. Anons who had gotten too old or ill and wanted to die, Anons who simply wanted to commit suicide, Anons on death row."
>Anon flinches at her casual phrasing of "rejects."
 
>"I constructed a device that could use their life force as a way to track down *my* multiverse's Anon. One of the more magically inclined Twilights helped. She had a snake tongue, I think."
>Not even pausing for a breath, she continued.
>"Now I realize why the device never worked. It couldn't track *my* multiverse's Anon because I'm in the wrong multiverse the whole time!"
 
>She hung her head, her revelations getting grimmer.
>"At one point, I got desperate and began using those Anon rejects for things other than... life forces. And against their will, too. That's when I met you. At least, this multiverse's you, anyway."
 
>Twi took a breather, realizing she had begun shouting quite a bit.
>"So, uh. Yeah. I've been swapped."
"Yes, I see that."
>"Yes."
 
>Anon opened his mouth a few times, but nothing reasonable or audible came out.
>"Well, that's one heck of a reveal," said Sunset.
 
 
"Moondancer, why are you telling us this? What's in it for you?"
>Moondancer grinned.
>"It's simple. I was kind of forced into joining MUPPET on the grounds that I'm a Moondancer. Stupid 10-year compulsory service."
>She took out a thick notebook full of equations.
 
>"It's been fun, but I want out. I have their archives server's master password hash, I just need to crack it and modify my record from 'enlisted' to 'discharged.' That's where your math talents come in."
>She sucked on her cigarette again.
>"It's a difficult problem. I don't expect a quick—"
"Here, I solved it."
>Moondancer began coughing uncontrollably.
 
>"WHAT? *cough* Let me see!"
>Anon pointed at one of the summations.
"You forgot the upper limit."
>Moondancer stared at her equation, then Anon, then back at her equation.
>"Shit. That was it? *cough* Really?"
>Anon shrugged.
"Rookie mistakes, everyone makes 'em."
>Moondancer threw her half-finished cigarette in a fit of anger.
>"Well. That just about ruins my weekend," she coughed.
 
>She began sulking visibly.
>"I was hoping to sell this information more dearly than this. God dammit."
>The party looks at each other, unsure what to say.
 
>Trixie pointed her thumb at the the circular billboard nearby.
>"Uh, how about we get you some donuts at that place across the street and call it even? I'm buying."
>Moondancer thought this through for a moment.
 
>She nodded.
>"Yeah, that sounds about even."
 
 
- - - - - -
 
 
[Present day]
 
>"Clear," shouts Twi.
>The portal screams into life as a random coordinate is dialed.
>Sunset, Trixie, and Anon are geared up and waiting.
>Spike is barking and running in circles, unsure what to do with himself.
 
>Anon shouts over the crackling noise as the portal charges up.
"Twi, we could just post an ad like I suggested."
>She shakes her head.
>"Ain't gonna help. Nobody reads the classifieds except for sex or comedy. Or both."
 
>Anon points at the Multiverse Times ad.
"Look! It's called Swagslist. They say it circulates in pretty much any multiverse worth circulating. Free digital ads. Oooh, "Swags fo' less," I like that slogan."
 
>Trixie raises an eyebrow at Anon.
>"Really? No respectable entrepreneur names their classifieds business 'Swagslist.' That sounds incredibly unprofessional."
"But the ad says—"
>"If you believe in everything you see in ads, honey," says Twi. "I've got a bridge to sell you."
>Anon looks annoyed.
 
"My intuitions are unappreciated in my time."
>He turns to Sunset, sticking the paper in her face.
"Sunset, look. LOOK! Am I right, or am I right? This is the smarter solution to our problem."
>"Anon, get that out of my face or I'll light it on fire."
>Trixie snatches the paper from Anon's hand and neatly folds it into halves.
>"Thanks, Trix."
>Trixie winks at Sunset.
 
 
"Come on guys, really? There are thousands of systems in that address Moondancer gave us. We'd be here for DECADES trying to dial the right one!"
>Twi checks her rifle.
>"The secret report suggested that she's an unregistered Twilight, so we can't even do a Twi Database query. We have to do this the old-fashioned way."
"Yeah, old-fashioned ways such as putting up a classified ad."
>Twi rolls her eyes.
 
>"Alright ladies, line up."
>Anon takes the rear guard as always, grumbling to himself.
>Twi, taking the lead, raises her weapon.
>"Go!"
>The party disappears through the portal.
 
>Spike runs a few more circles, then begins to groom his family jewels.
>He gets really into it when the four stooges stumble back out of the portal.
>Spike's ears perk up.
 
>Twi shuts the portal close behind her. She's dripping with something viscous and yellow.
>Sunset looks partially scorched as she evaporates out of her demon form.
>"Ohh-hh, cold concrete floor," she sighs. "So good."
>"A bugbear mating swarm," pants Trixie, "of all things."
>Her astral armor fades as she sprawls on the floor. She sighs in relief.
>Anon's cyberarm is pierced with a massive bugbear stinger. The damaged arm keeps oscillating up and down in a jerking off motion.
>He mumbles something about the 'fap button.'
 
"Hey Twi, how about that Swagslist? Good idea yet?"
>Twi wipes a thick layer of honey off of her face.
>"Fine, you win."
 
>Spike gets busy lapping up Twilight's face.
 
 
- - - - - -
 
 
m4w lavender-haired mad scienti_
 
>"Anonymous—"
"—Sorry."
 
missing person: Twilight Sparkle, looks a lot like M-002
 
Looking for a potentially unregistered Twilight.
No Universe Code or Twi Decimal Classification number.
If you find her, please call us at_
 
 
>Anon finishes up the ad, then clicks through pages worth of "free offers" before finally publishing it.
"There we go. Now we wait for the information to come to us."
>"I'm still skeptical," says Trix. "Multiverse registration number is something that just doesn't come up casually. Even if anyone sees the "other" Twilight, no one would think to ask her for her identification. This is a silly endeavor."
>Anon ruffles up the pale blue wizard's hair.
"Oh ye of no faith."
>Trixie pouts.
>Sunset gently combs Trixie's hair back into place.
>"Thanks, Sunset."
>Sunset winks at Trixie.
 
>"Seriously Anon," says Twi. "Even the HST intelligence office couldn't figure out where my copy lives. Do you really expect some random nobody to ring the phone and give us her home address or someth—"
 
>The phone rings.
 
>"—You're fucking shitting me," curses Twi.
 
>Anon flashes a shit-eating grin at this apparent triumph, then puts it on speakers.
>"It's probably just a telemarketer," whispers Sunset.
 
"Hell-o. Twilight's Laboratory, Anony-mouth speaking."
>Trixie suppresses a laughter.
 
>"[Yes, I am calling about your missing persons ad,]" says the smooth voice on the other side. "[I believe I ran into an unregistered Twilight Sparkle last Wednesday. Very peculiar, that girl.]"
"Oh, that's great!"
>Anon mouths 'I TOLD YOU SO' at Twi, doing pelvic thrusts at the air.
>Twi crosses her arms, making it clear that he's so not getting laid tonight.
 
"Thank you so much for responding! I'm Anonymous, it's nice to meet you."
 
>"[Likewise,]" responds the sultry voice. "[I'm Starlight Glimmer. Junior relocation officer, Union for Special Starlight Rights.]"
 
>Spike begins barking at the phone.