+————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————+
|                                                                    |
|    Looking for the archived update with all the spelling errors,   |
|    lore discussions, shitposts, and images of cute cartoon         |
|    horses? Follow this link:                                       |
|                                                                    |
|    https://archive.moe/mlp/thread/24275038/#24291923               |
|    second half:                                                    |
|    https://archive.moe/mlp/thread/24294323/#24294392               |
+————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————+
 
>Twilight and Sunset are mixed up in a mind incident with the Troop of Shining Armors.
>"So you're telling me," drones the TSA agent, "that this lady here is not registered with any multiversal entities?"
>Twilight reminds herself to keep quiet about Sunset's involvement with MUPPET.
 
>"That's correct, Big Brother," says Twilight, her own voice shakier than she'd prefer. "Fresh off the Earth, never been tangled up with interdimensional espionage screw-ups. Nosiree."
>The teal-haired pale man raises an eyebrow.
>Twilight smiles nervously.
 
>The beleaguered TSA agent lets out a frustrated sigh. He was not going to meet his visa stamp quota today.
>"Look," he continues. "I want to move you along, I really do. But you can't leave the planet without proper documentations for carry-on Shimmigrants."
 
>"Look, you overpaid twat," says Sunset, biting her T's. "I'm not some lifeless luggage that needs to be declared for customs—"
>Twilight tries to calm the inconsolable firebird.
>"Come on Sunset, let's not do this."
>Sunset groans, then lets out a frustrated howl.
 
>"Twilight, PLEASE tell me we didn't come all the way here for nothing!"
>"I'm not about to, Sunny," Twilight answers calmly in her singsong lecturing voice. "Big Brother?"
>The TSA agent groans.
>"Yes, M-002?"
>Twilight fidgets with a Sapphire Saviors captain's business card.
>"Is there a payphone I could use?"
>"Payphones? Really? You from some ass-end backwaters, kid?
 
>Twilight shrugs apologetically.
>Shining Armor lets out a sigh.
>"Here. Just use my cell phone."
 
—
 
>"[Flash Sentry. High Constable, Sapphire Saviors.]"
>"Hey Flash. It's M-002."
 
>Flash's voice jumps up an octave, not bothering to keep a professional monotone.
>"[Twilight! It's a pleasure to be able to speak to you again. To what do I owe the—]"
>"In a bit of a pickle, Flash," interrupts Twilight. "I need a travel visa for my friend, Sunset. We're stuck at the TSA checkpoint."
>"[Oh, *those* buggers,]" Flash chortles. "[What a collective of louts, wouldn't you agree? Why, I made a suggestion to the High Council that—]"
 
>Twilight flashes a flash of anger at Flash.
>"FLASH. PLEASE. In a pickle. Sunny's about to lose her temper. Fiery demoness."
>"[—yes, of course,]" coughs Flash. "[Which planet are you on currently?]"
 
>"Uhh," says Twi, somewhat embarrassed.
>She never thought to ask anyone about the name of the rock she was standing on.
>"The one with lots of lizards? Joe Biden worshippers?"
 
>"[Oh. The Vice President]"
>"Supposedly in a decade or so," says Twilight. "But it's not even 2000 yet in my multiverse."
>"[No, I meant the planet is named The Vice President.]"
 
>Twilight fights the urge to curl up into a ball.
>".... are you fucking kidding me?"
 
>"[Language, my dear. And besides, you're from a planet named after soil, for Donald's sake.]"
>Flash lets out a condescending laugh.
>"[I mean, come on. The Earth? I could've come up with a—]"
 
>"THE VISA, FLASH SENTRY."
>"[Yes, of course. Consider it done—]"
>Twilight hears Flash making a rapid series of keystrokes.
>"[—now. Full visa everywhere, green card for all systems under HST control. You're quite welcome, my dear.]"
 
>Twilight slams the cellphone shut.
 
—
 
>"Heeey," whines Shining Armor. "You break it, you buy it."
>Twilight shoves the phone into Shining Armor's chest, then shoves a confused Sunset in front of her.
>"Full visa. Free to travel everywhere. She's so fucking free that she shits eagle eggs."
 
>Sunset takes an offense to that.
>"H-hey! I don't—"
>"LET. US. THROUGH."
>Twilight puffs like a bull.
 
>"Fine," says Shining Armor, verifying Sunset's updated records. "Empty launch pads down the hall to your left."
>He wraps a paper band around Sunset's wrist.
>"Big Brother Is Watching You," he recites the official TSA farewell.
 
>"GOOD. Let's go, Sunny."
>Twilight grabs Sunset's arm and begins stomping down the hallway.
>"Twilight! What happened?"
>"Flash Sentry and multiverse happened," fumes Twilight. "And next time they run into me, they'll be sorry that they did."
 
>"Jesus," says Sunset. "And they say I'm the rage demoness."
 
 
>Few minutes and a blinding flash of light later, a baseball-shaped ship materializes itself on one of the launch pads.
>Twilight floors the Rainboom, getting a frightened yelp out of Sunset.
>She vows to stay light years away from The Vice President for the rest of her life.
 
 
- - - - - -
 
 
>Inside a rather extravagant office, Flash Sentry stares at his phone's receiver.
>"How rude. That girl needs a lesson in social graces.
>He puts it down gently, getting back to work.
 
>There were so many paperworks to complete. Procurement requests, promotions, intel reports...
>He almost longed for the simpler days as a regular rank-and-file Brad in the Sapphire Saviors.
>Almost.
 
>The 'Flash Sentry' title was well worth the hassle.
 
>Flash is almost at the end of a strongly worded letter to the Troop of Shining Armors when the ornate phone rings again.
>Tossing the pen aside in frustration, he picks it up.
>"Flash Sentry. High Const—"
>"[Flash, it's Lord Anon. The Donald's office.]"
 
>Flash straightens up.
>"Ah, Emerald Consort. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
>"[Our Lady has a special assignment for you, Captain Cuck,]" says The Donald's consort, getting straight to the diatribe.
>Flash's knuckles turn white.
 
 
>"[Do you remember the minor breach in our scientific computing cluster a year ago?]"
>"Yes," replies Flash, rather curtly. "It was an unfocused attack. Amateurish attempt at hogging up the network traffic."
 
>The Emerald Consort sighs.
>"[It turns out our technical investigators are complete idiots. The attackers made out with lots of critical data.]"
>"How critical," asks Flash. He raises an eyebrow.
>"[Top secret. Theoretical multiverse physics data.]"
>Flash says nothing. Why wasn't he warned of this earlier?
 
>"[Our intel suggests that a discharged MUPPET agent is responsible,]" he continues. "[We're tracking her currently. Prep the Brads for deployment.]"
>"Wait," says Flash. "Whose intel? WE'RE the premier intelligence agency of HST, and I'm the head of it. This is the first time I've heard anything about a—"
>"[Don't question Our Lady's orders, Flash Sentry.]"
 
>Flash pauses.
 
>"Very well, then. I'll prepare the Sapphire Saviors."
>"[Good. That'll be all.]"
 
>"God save the Trump," intones Flash.
>"[God save the Trump,]" acknowledges the Emerald Consort.
>He hangs up.
 
>"Professionally covered breach, intel sources I'm unaware of," wonders Flash Sentry. "Just what is—"
 
>He suddenly recalls hearing about M-002 Twilight's Moondancer. The ex-MUPPET agent.
>She supposedly gave Twilight a suspiciously detailed and accurate run-down of M-002's special predicament.
>Supposedly.
 
>"Oh my," gasps Flash Sentry in realization.
 
 
- - - - - -
 
 
>Light years away, a pale-magenta Chairman watches her underling putting down the receiver.
 
>"Did the high council bite?"
>"As you predicted, Chairman," the agent replies. "The Donald is not a difficult woman to deceive."
 
>The Chairman smiles.
 
>"And this 'intelligence' you leaked?"
>"Exactly as you prescribed, Chairman," the agent replies again. "Judging from the Saviors' efficiency, Moondancer shall be detained and brought to HST homeworld for questioning in no time."
 
>The Chairman chuckles.
>"Good. Very good."
 
>She could feel the galactic chess pieces moving into place.
>And soon, checkmate.
 
 
- - - - - - -
 
 
>Some more light years away, hundreds of ships line up at a toll booth near the F-Mart system.
>The Rainboom is stuck in the middle of it.
 
>Out of boredom, Sunset begins counting the number of ships waiting in queue in front of their own.
>"Don't do that," says Twilight. "That way lies madness."
>"What, counting ships?"
>Twilight nods.
 
>"Countless travelers perished doing exactly that. So, don't."
>Sunset sinks into the copilot seat, sulking.
 
>"Go watch a movie or something," says Twilight. "I think Anon left a box of tapes in the cabinet—"
>"I've watched it all already."
>"Oh," says Twi, giving up.
 
>A few seconds of silence later, Sunset speaks up.
>"Hey Twi."
>"Hmm?"
>"Are we there yet?"
>Twilight pops a blood vessel.
>"I love you Sunny, but I will strangle you with your own hair if you force my hand."
 
—
 
>The queue shortens considerably enough after 1 hour 21 minutes and 9 seconds.
>Sunset, having counted every second of it, blogs about it on Tweeblr.
>It gets four rebleets. Applejack is still on Earth and doesn't have access to galactinet.
 
>Twilights drives the Rainboom into the pressured force bubble.
>The elastic bubble makes a very lewd slurping sound as it swallows the hard, throbbing spaceship.
 
>"God, that sounds disgusting," remarks Sunset, cringing almost into herself.
>"You learn to block it out after a week," says Twilight idly.
>Sunset capitalizes on this massive slip-up.
>"What did you just say??"
 
>Twilight's eyes widen, realizing what she had just said.
>"I-I-I-I meant the docking noise," she stammers.
>"Docking with your mouth, eh," Sunset snickers. "Is that what you do with Anon every night?"
 
>"NO Not THAT kind of docking, the one where the ship slowly enters the toll slot and the—"
>Twilight sighs, giving up.
>"Yes, I slipped. I was referring to blowjobs."
 
>"[Uh,]" the toll booth intercom interjects with a nasally voice. "[Is this a bad time, ladies?]"
>Twilight's mouth scrunches up in embarrassment. Her face is crimson.
 
>"Not at all," replies Sunset. "We were just talking about blowjobs."
>Sunset gives Twilight a satisfied grin.
 
>"I am so going to bleet this on Tweeblr."
>"I will strangle you, Sunset Shimmer."
 
>"[Hello? That'll be two starcoins, please?]"
 
>Twilight tosses two coins into the chute angrily.
>The Rainboom accelerates even before the barricade begins moving upward.
 
—
 
>It takes them no time to make planetfall on the F-Mart parking lot.
>Twilight gets giddy at the prospect of getting out of the confined cockpit.
>"You know," says Sunset, undoing her flight harness. "Shouldn't we be looking for Anon and Trixie first?"
>"No can do," says Twilight, untying her hair. "We have no idea where they are, and I need batteries for my AnonyTrak."
 
>The two of them step out of the main hatch, breathing in the stale urban air.
 
>Twilight continues.
>"If he's smart, he'd try to stay put and wait for me to track him down. Preferably near an urban area."
 
>Sunset nods.
>"Right. He's the one with the transponder, after all."
>"Correct," nods Twilight. "In a search and rescue setting, the rescuee has to remain stationary in order to maximize—"
 
>The space tears itself apart in front of them with a loud crack, stopping them in their tracks.
 
>The blue-green electric loop widens, letting loose a torrent of extradimensional air.
>It reeks of potato chips, alcohol, and sexual predators.
 
>Trixie tumbles out, followed by Anon.
>The pale blue wizard gracefully sticks her landing.
>The green idiot trips, rolls, and comes to a halt at Twilight's feet.
 
"Hey babe."
 
>"—or they could disobey the laws of physics and open a portal into a freeze-time zone."
>Trixie looks incredibly happy.
>"Sunny! Twilight!"
>"Trixie!"
 
>The girls hug it out. It's all incredibly adorable.
 
"Hello? Man down? I think I bruised a knee."
 
—
 
>Trixie looks up at the disgusting man pictures on the billboard.
>He's been graffiti'd on a few times since the last visit.
>The parking lot is littered with bits of plastic packaging and discarded receipts.
>Anon pokes at a dead pigeon with a stick.
>"Babe, can you stop? That's just morbid."
 
"You've got to remind me why we're here again."
>"Because I inadvertently opened a portal into a freeze-time zone," answers Trixie.
"You know what I meant, Trix."
>"Other Twilight's trail, Anonymous. The portal jumps aren't *that* jarring."
"Oh, right."
 
>"Well if it were strictly for shopping reasons," explains Twilight, "we'd be in Zeta's Warehouse. Especially since your affinity for cheap, unfashionable trash."
>She glares at Anon's cyberarm. It's wrapped cozily in a flannel-patterned glove.
 
>"Twilight, don't be like that," says Trixie. "There's nothing wrong with flannels."
>Anon pumps his fists in the air.
"See? SEE? Finally, a vindication."
>Anon gives Trixie a brofist. She doesn't return the favor.
 
>"The fedora is just inexcusable, however," says Trixie.
>Sunset snickers audibly.
>"Oh, so you're one of THOSE guys, Anonymous? Do you like Scenic the Warthog?"
 
>Anon fakes a hurt pout.
"Hey! My fashion sense may be eccentric, but I am no plebeian when it comes to video games."
>He mimes a gentleman tipping his hat, getting a hearty laugh out of Sunset.
 
"Rest assured that I have never felt any sensations of euphoric nature."
>"That's what Twilight said about last night," snickers Trixie.
 
>Twilight gives Trixie a brofist. Trixie meets her halfway with a satisfying impact.
 
>"Anonymous," says Sunset, placing a comforting hand on Anon's shoulder. "It's okay for some men to have performance issues. It's a natural process of—"
"I should've just stayed at The Cantina."
 
 
>"The Cantina? A pansy like you? I doubt it."
 
—
 
>The party stops their collective bullying of Anon, interrupted by a Twilight-lookalike.
>They look exactly the same minus a few details here and there.
>This new Twilight, however, has the eyes of a cold scientist.
>She reminds Anon of how his Twilight used to be like back in high school.
 
>She's holding an armful of bleach and industrial-strength carpet cleaners.
>"Hey, M-002. Long time no see."
 
>Twilight stares, not recognizing the doppelganger.
>Suddenly, she smiles.
>"Oh, it's you! Long time no see, T-17."
>The serious-looking Twilight allows herself a tiny smile.
 
>"Well, someone's changed quite a bit. Aren't you the one who used to do live experiments on the Anon rejects?"
>Anon winces.
 
"Look, I know they weren't exactly the most successful people on Earth—"
>"in the multiverse," the scientist corrects him.
"—whatever. But could you not say things like 'Anon rejects?' It's kind of... demeaning."
 
>"You're right," she says, not exactly apologizing.
>She turns to Twilight.
 
>"Made some friends too, huh? I guess time changes everyone."
>Twilight lets out a nervous laughter.
 
>"It's all thanks to Anon. He really turned me around for good."
>"Yeah, guys usually like to do it from behind," says the scientist, looking at Anon.
 
>Awkward silence.
 
 
>"Well, I've gotta go," she says. "Got myself a real mess at the lab."
>"Oh my," says Twilight. "What happened?"
>"Laboratory door malfunction. Decapitated a Brad."
 
>The party nods in approval.
"Hey, you're not bad. Not bad at all."
 
>"There's no need to reiterate facts," she replies, extending a hand. "Take good care of M-002 or she'll cut you."
>Anon takes her hand nervously, shaking it.
>A sharp needle jabs into Anon's palm.
"JESUS FUCK OW"
>"Anony!"
 
>"He'll be fine," says the scientist. "Just taking a small sample. I want to compare him against... 'my' Anon. I want to clone the less terrible one in case that door malfunctions on him."
 
>She turns around, walking towards a portal booth.
>"It's been nice, M-002."
>"I-uh, likewise, T-17."
>She disappears into the multiversal void.
 
"Small sample my ass," complains Anon, looking at his bleeding palm. "She took a full-depth tissue core."
 
>"Oh, don't be such a baby," Twilight chides, giving Anon a shot of cure-all.
"Are you sure you're *our* Twilight? Because I really can't tell right now."
 
—
 
>"Sorry kiddo," says a mall-cop Shining Armor. "We get thousands of Twilights in a week. And your faces just kind of blend together too well."
>"Right, thanks anyway," sighs Twilight.
>It's been a frustrating and fruitless day so far.
"I'm really sorry, Twilight."
>Anon rubs her shoulders.
 
>"It's fine," she responds. "I just wanted you to find about your past. And mine too. I was hoping we'd learn more about it together, but—"
>Anon puts a hand on Twilight's cheek.
"It's not over yet. We'll solve this together as friends."
>Twilight smiles.
>"As friends."
 
>"Hey lovebirds," says Sunset, walking over with Trixie in tow. "Any luck?"
"No. What about you two?"
>Trixie shakes her head.
>"Everyone cites the same thing: too many Twilights. We need a different strategy."
>The party looks around, unsure what to do next.
 
>"I think," says Sunset, suddenly laden with a revelation, "I've got an idea."
>"I'm all ears," says Twilight.
 
>"Most Twilights share the same traits, correct? Same interests, same tendencies, whatever."
>Twilight nods.
>"Not every trait. And some Twilights are radically different from others. But roughly speaking, we do share some common traits."
 
 
>Sunset smiles.
>"You're Twilight Sparkle. You've hitchhiked across the multiverse without a Universe Code or a Twi Decimal Classification Number, because you wanted to find your other half."
 
>Twilight nods slowly.
>"Yes, that's what she did."
 
>Sunset continues.
>"You came here to stock up on supplies, and get your bearings. You have a goal, the means to accomplish it, and a friend for whom you'd give it all up."
 
>Sunset gestures at the F-Mart plaza.
>"Where do you go from here? What would Twilight Sparkle do?"
 
>Twilight's eyes widen.
>"Of course," she whispers. "THAT'S where they would've gone!"
 
>Anon feels his hands being tugged at.
"Hmm?"
 
>Twilight puts on her singsong thespian voice. Her eyes are glittering.
>"Anony, you and I are complete strangers to this multiverse. We only have each other to rely on—"
>She holds Anon's hands in hers.
 
>"—and we're on a quest to find our counterparts, even if it means the end of our love."
>Twilight gestures at the F-Mart plaza before them.
 
>"Where you would like to have lunch, oh sir knight?"
 
>Anon smiles.
"A brewery, with my lady's permission."
 
>Twilight tiptoes, meeting Anon's lips with hers.
>They connect with a soft smack.
 
>"Permission granted, my emerald savior."
 
 
>"Oh come on," says the Element of Empathy. "Was the theatrics really necessary?"
>"My cheesy savior, more like," agrees Sunset.
>They connect with a brofist.
 
 
- - - - - -
 
 
>The door jingles as it lets in a loving couple and their two disgusted friends.
>The place is decorated with fake red brick walls and various copper pipes that lead to nowhere.
>A massive half-rusted metal silo occupies the center of the establishment, taking up table space and generally making it incredibly awkward for any onlookers.
 
>Sunset eyes the hideous silo.
>"Are you sure this is where the other lovebirds went to?"
>"Whoever they are," moans Trixie, "I hope they're not as cheesy as ours."
 
>An overly chipper waiter greets them in a bright tenor.
>"Hi! Welcome to The Hoppy Bunny. Table for four?"
>The party nods in unison.
>"Good! Please follow me."
 
>They're led to a table covered in faded rouge tablecloth. An assortment of utensils are randomly strewn about.
>"My name is Chad and I'll be your waiter for this afternoon!"
>"Hi Chad," says the party in unison.
>He smiles a bit too widely.
 
>"Aaand may I get you guys something to drink?"
"Dude Light for me, please."
>The waiter stops.
 
 
>"Say, didn't you and the purple-haired lady over there come here last night? What a coincidence!"
>Twilight gasps.
>"You saw someone that looks like him? Like me?"
 
>"I, er, actually served you guys on this same table," the waiter says. "Or not. They looked exactly like you two, though!"
>The party exchanges incredulous looks.
 
>"A pitcher of Blue Planet for me please," says Sunset. "I can't take these multiverse shenanigans anymore."
 
"Did they say anything about where they're heading to next?"
>The waiter frowns a little.
>"The lady did mention something about having to find their 'other halves' or something. Very cryptic."
>Trixie gently pats Sunset. The rage demoness is burying her face in a pile of forks.
>"Please continue," says Twilight. "Did they say anything else peculiar?"
 
>"And the uh, heh heh," he chuckles nervously. "The gentleman had a little too much to drink. He shouted something about breaking into the HST personnel registry."
>The HST Personnel Registry," whispers Twilight. "Of course. Without multiverse identification they can't do a remote query like I can."
 
"And then what happened?"
>"The lady smacked him in the head and told him to keep quiet. Then they finished their meal."
"Oh."
 
>"That's pretty accurate actually," shrugs Trixie. "I'll have a Dude Light as well."
>"Certainly, miss!"
 
>"Wait," says Twilight. "We've got all the info we need. Are we actually going to have a meal here—"
>"YES," says the party in unison.
 
>Twilight sighs.
>"Fine. Just water for me, please."
>"Will be right up!"