Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is the story of the first time I got shot.

Considering the nature of the Lagoon Company, it was bound to happen. I knew it ever since they first picked me up. In fact, I was surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner—and I was surprised by how it happened.

It was Friday, early morning. I had to wake up at 7 am, but being a former Japanese salaryman, that experience was nothing new to me. Revy and Dutch were not as enthused.

“Ugh, do we really have to go down there at 8 in the fucking morning. We’ve already picked up all our orders.”

“You know how Sister Yolanda is with her weekly tea sessions. Even if we’re fully stocked, we gotta get down on Friday mornings. It’s an important show of respect and amicability. A tribute to our being on good terms. So yes, it’s a pain in the ass, but at least we can look forward to the weekend.”

Being the most level-headed relative to the Company, Dutch was the one driving. Benny wasn’t joining on account of “lacking soft skills.” And Revy was kicking it in the front seat (literally, since she propped her legs on the dash) while I had to sit in the back seat. It had something to do with how newbies don’t get shotgun privileges. Or at least that’s what she claimed. I still had a lot to learn in this job. So I sat pensively, dwelling on our prior interactions with the Sister. I had passed her test and we were now on more amicable terms. But still. Something about what she said that day was bothering me…

Revy took a drag from her cigarette and glanced back at me.

“You’re being less annoying than usual. What’s eating you up?” I didn’t think she would notice me being quiet.

“Oh. Nothing,” I said. “It’s just… are you really okay? With them calling you by your first name?”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “My first name?”

“Yeah, ‘Rebecca.’ That pimp, Balalaika, and Sister Yolanda call you that. But everyone in the Lagoon Company calls you Revy instead.”

Dutch snorted but didn’t say anything.

Revy shrugged. “When you’ve lived a life like mine, you get called things a lot worse. So yeah, Rebecca’s fine. But I like Revy more. It sounds cooler. ‘Rebecca’ sounds like the name of a decrepit middle-school music teacher.”

The rest of the car ride continued in relative silence. Dutch was humming. Revy was smoking. And I was thinking. The three of us bathed in the golden rays of sun, blanketed by the silence of a somber dawn. The silence of all mornings, the silence of an unknown future.

~ BLACK LAGOON ~

As it turns out, our “unknown future” contained lots of yelling and gunfire, which is about what I expected.

After the dust settled, Revy and I stood out of breath in a room full of corpses. Dutch was off finishing up the left wing and by the sound of all that screaming, he didn’t need our help. I was getting better at this; neither me nor Revy had any injuries.

We surveyed the room, checking for extra loot and making sure all the dead bodies actually were dead. My eyes landed on a leather object on the floor. It was Revy’s wallet. I recognized it from the first (and only) time she treated the crew to Pad Thai. It must have fallen from all the fighting we went through.

“Oh hey, your wallet fell,” I said. Revy halted.

“My wallet?” She turned and saw me reaching for it. There was something sticking out of it. I picked up the wallet and pulled the thing out. It was a Thai driver’s license. Despite that, the name on it was printed in the Latin alphabet.

Revy leaped forward. “Rock, NO!”

I nearly dropped the license. That wasn’t the first time she had yelled at me; I’d gotten used to that real quick. In fact, she yelled at me more often than she talked to me. But this? This was different. For the first time since I had met her, Revy sounded scared.

And I wanted to stop, I really did, but the muscle memory from being a Japanese salaryman had already kicked in. My eyes read the words aloud with a movement which was as nearly as possible unconscious.

“‘Revue Starl—’”

She snatched her wallet and license, refusing to face to me. And then, silence.

“I-I’m so sorry Revy,” I said. I’m a dead man, I thought.

She was as still as a statue. “Well?”

I didn’t say a word, couldn’t say a word. Something deep within me, the primal instinct in all humans honed by millions of years of evolution, told me to keep my mouth shut. If I said anything, anything at all, I would join the henchmen that littered the ground around us.

“Well? Aren’t you going to laugh it up? What a fucking stupid thing to be named. It’s such a knee-slapper, I know. Believe me, I know. So go ahead. Laugh.”

Revy turned to look at me, her gaze hard as bullets and just as lethal. But I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

She was blushing.

Revy, the one and only gunslinging and Nazi-killing Revy, was blushing. I didn’t even know she could blush. Technically nothing had changed about her, but I saw her in a new light. It’s funny how that works. I wasn’t looking at the Lagoon Company’s best fighter Revy; I was looking at the woman Revue Starlight Black. That explained why we got called the Black Lagoon and why her nickname was ‘Revy.’ It felt like I was seeing a different person entirely.

But then I paused. Was she really all that different? Whether her name was Revy or Rebecca Black or Revue Starlight Black or whatever, it was still her. She was still Revy.

And she was still glaring at me, expecting an answer. The next words I spoke would determine if I would be a person or a corpse.

I opened my mouth. “Revy, I would never—”

“I wasn’t asking for your pity, fuckface!” she roared. And she was about to continue on her tirade, but she paused and took a deep breath. “Look. This morning, you asked why the Sister and all those other people call me ‘Rebecca.’ That’s cuz I don’t want them to know my actual name. ‘Rebecca’ might sound like some washed-up teacher, but ‘Revue Starlight’ sounds like a dumb cartoon where child actors fight under the watchful eye of, like, a—a giraffe or something.”

It must have been that time of the month. The poor woman was in hysterics and talking gibberish. Yet I understood her. For once in my life, I understood her.

I took a step forward. “I’m not saying this out of pity Revy, I’m saying this out of understanding,” I said.

Her gaze softened just a hair, so I continued.

“Names are something essential to all humans. It’s the whole of our identity, compressed into a string of sounds. To tell someone your name is to trust them with all of your being. Your name defines you and follows you around all your life. I know how much people’s names matter and how important they are. I went and changed mine, after all. So I would never make fun of your name, Revy. I mean, it’s not like I’m one to talk. My name’s Rock for crying out loud.” She actually chuckled at that.

“So hey, I won’t tell anyone. I can see how much pain this has caused you. Your secret is safe with me…” I put my hand on her shoulder and smiled. She released the tension she was holding in, and almost smiled back. “… Starlight.”

~ BLACK LAGOON ~

BUMRUNGRAD INTERNATIONAL HOSPITAL
PATIENT ADMISSION
NAME: Rokurou Okajima
RACE : Asian
SEX: M
AGE: 26
BLOOD TYPE: O+

CAUSE OF ADMN: Two (2) gunshot wounds
SEVERITY: 4

Additional Notes: Very smug grin despite profuse bleeding . Said the words “Worth it” upon admission.

Chapter Text

Seishou Music Academy

Takarazuka, Japan

A man and a woman stand in front of my house.

Despite the hot weather, the man is wearing business attire. A button-up shirt with slacks and a tie. The woman’s outfit is more weather-appropriate, a black tank top and denim shorts.

They are arguing.

“Rock, I get one day off a year. And right now we’re spending that one day at some shitty theater school in Japan. You better have a damn good reason why or else I’m going to blow your fucking brains out.”

The man does not appear fazed by the woman’s words. In fact, he is smiling. I understand…

SUBJECT:

Revue Starlight Black

Female, Age unknown

AFFILIATION:

Lagoon Company

ASSIGNMENT:

Mandatory Vacation

On the surface, the woman is hostile and the man is complacent. But beyond this surface tension, the man is more comfortable than the woman. That is natural. The man was born and raised in this land and the woman was not. An actor is most comfortable on the stage they practice most. I understand…

“Truth be told, when I first read your name Revy—” (the woman bares her fangs at this) “—I actually got a sense of deja vu. Like somewhere, someplace I had seen those words before. After combing my brain for a while, I realized where I had seen them. Or at least, heard them.”

He turns to face my house.

“When I was younger, my parents had me join an acting school,” he says. “They thought I would have succeeded as an actor. And I spent a few years there before I— would you stop laughing? I spent a few years there before I finally joined a real middle school. When I went here, there were whispers of a prestigious academy, for only the best talents. The crème de la crème. The top stars. It’s official name is Seishou Music Academy, but it was far more well known for the Revue that the school essentially trained you for. And for that, the school eventually became known for the same name as the Revue. So everyone I knew called this place Revue Sta—”

The woman puts a hand on the gun at her breast. The man pauses.

“Heheheh… I-I’m sure you get where this is going.”

“Rock. You never answered my question. What the fuck are we doing at a place like this.”

“Revy…” The man gazes at the horizon as the wind blows throw his tie and hair. “Do you believe in destiny?”

“Oh boy, here we go.”

“It’s the force that binds all humans together. There are those who call it gravity, those who call it the red thread, but no matter what you call it, some people are just meant to meet. I mean, look at us! I thought I was a businessman or a lowly wage-pig until I met you and the Lagoon Company. The great sculptor Michelangelo once said, ‘The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.’ That’s why I gave myself the name Rock. Because to start I was nothing but a blank slate, but each day I chisel away who I thought I was to reveal who I truly am. Like a statue being freed from its stone chains. So the reason I brought you here is because your name and this school’s name is no coincidence. It’s destiny.”

The woman sniffed.

“Wow, real nice. I have tears in my eyes. I’m sure Mrs. Murray loved you back in sixth grade poetry.”

“What is it with you and insulting the American education syste—”

The woman’s phone rings.

She pulls it from her pocket and flips it open, looks at the screen. Her face scrunches.

Instead of the usual caller ID, it’s a symbol: a crescent moon behind a star-speckled giraffe.

“The fuck’s this?”

The man arches an eyebrow. Though her expression is cool, the woman is worried. Someone who is good at concealing their emotions, acting like something she is not, someone she is not. I understand…

She hesitates for an instant before accepting the call. She puts the phone to her ear

and I answer.

“Seventh door on the right. Knock twice.”

I hang up before she can rebut. (And yet rebut she does.)

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE SHITHEAD?! I’M GONNA RIP YOUR ESOPHAGUS RIGHT OUTTA YOUR—”

“Revy, please! Keep your voice down! We’re in public!”

The two bicker, but nonetheless make their way towards the entrance.

One, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. Once, and twice. The door opens. No one is on the other side but blinding darkness. The woman walks in, tracking in mud, and the man tries to too. But the door shuts before he can.

She whirls back, but before she can gather her wits, she is swallowed by the earth. A handful of seconds later, she appears on the main stage, dressed in the garb of a true actress. She turns around in bewilderment, until her eyes land on me sitting in the audience.

“What the fuck…”

Even in this form, I manage a smile.

“The first day of auditions has begun,” I declare.

~ REVUE STARLIGHT ~

Finally the door opens again. By now, the sun is touching the horizon. The man, in a half-napping state, pries his eyes open. The poor thing had spent such a long, time, out there. (Most of his energy was spent ranting and raving and crying for help in the few minutes following Ms. Black’s descent. The students of Seishou Music Academy had to him that she would return soon. Not that he would ever tell Ms. Black about this.) He stands up and stretches as Ms. Black struts out, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Revy! Thank goodness, I was waiting for hours. What happened in there? Are you alright?”

She put a finger on his lips, making him blush.

“I just beat the shit out of a fourteen year old. It was great. Apparently there’s some tournament bracket or something with a pretty cool prize at the end, so I’m gonna come back and do this again tomorrow.”

“But we have to go back to work tomorrow.”

“Tell Balalaika the G-man has me covered. He said she’ll know what that means.”

(The man will call the woman named Balalaika via a designated phone booth. Upon hearing the message, this woman will pause.

“Rock, I haven’t known you for very long, but I’m fairly certain you aren’t the type for wisecracks. But I must ask just to be safe; are you joking? Or are you serious?”

“I’m completely serious, Ms. Balalaika. Revy told me those words herself. She was, uh… well it’s a long story. But Revy was fighting teenage girls while a giraffe—”

“That’s enough, Rock.” The sudden lashing-out will startle the man into silence. After weighing the words in her mind, this woman will say, “I—just. Just be careful. There are some powerful, powerful things out there. Their connections are deeper than we think, their malice fiercer than we know. Those things make even me shiver. Don’t get caught up in something you have no chance of escaping. And promise me you’ll keep Revy safe.”

“…Okay. I promise.”

She will hang up, and the man will stand there, confused.)

After this, the days pass languidly.

Fight after fight, victory after victory. She climbs and climbs and climbs up the rankings, all the way until

she becomes the top star.

That is to be expected, being much older and more battle-savvy than her teenage competition. Even the most tenacious of students Seishou had to offer could not match the raw savagery within Ms. Black.

She also used guns.

Not loaded, mind you. Professionals have standards, after all. But still. Being a master of killing implies being a master of pretend killing. But that sonorous voice of hers was rather surprising, even for the likes of myself…

It has been such a long, time, since I’ve encountered a specimen quite like Ms. Black. Such Glimmer, such limitless potential. She reminds me of another interesting specimen, that scientist. He was quite promising too. (The soldier, less so…)

And yet, there is also something familiar about Ms. Black. Her carefree attitude. Her wit. Her aptitude with the handgun. She reminds me of another specimen I have met; or rather, will meet. All in due, time.

In the mean, time, Ms. Black stands in front of me, having defeated the former number one in a blaze of glory.

And so I ask her what my employers told me to ask. “The one to pass the auditions is you, Ms. Black. Having become the top star, what is the stage of destiny that you desire?”

I won’t repeat what she told to me. It’s not the sort of thing you say in polite company.

But I chuckle. (It’s easier to do so in a giraffe’s body than a human’s.) Ms. Black is using cynicism and wit to deflect her true feelings. I understand…

“That would be a considerably small nudge… What if I could offer you something you don’t know you want?”

Her leering grin falters. “What… What are you talking about?”

“You feel empty. No matter how many lives you end, how much blood is on your hand, you feel empty. Your heart stopped beating years ago. You lay awake at night, plagued by thoughts of what you could have done and what you failed to do. Ms. Black, you once said that your boots stank of gutter mud. A stench you could never rid yourself of. A stench that I could.”

Her eyes widen. “That can’t possibly be right. You’re… You’re just making shit up so I’ll lower my guard!” She levels her weapons. The barrels of her guns stare at me. I stare back at her.

The two of us stand there for an immeasurable amount of time. But eventually, the mask named Revy crumbles. “Do you really mean it?” she asks. “Living without this stench? Without these burdens? I want to, God I want to… but what about Benny? Dutch? Balalaika? W-What about Rock?”

“I promise you Ms. Black, nothing will change about them. All you have to do is wish, and it will be.”

She looked at me like the world was upending itself. Tears formed at the edges of her eyes, and she found the strength within to let them fall.

“I… I…” She turns away and tries compose herself. It doesn’t work. When she turns back to face me, there’s even more tears streaming down her face.

“I want to perform on a stage where I can put my guns away. Where I can breathe. Where I can be.” She looks at me, and I see the Glimmer of her soul. “I want to perform on a stage without these muddy boots of mine.”

I understand…

The world around us fades to a void, blacker than black except for the trails of passing stars.

A door in reality slides open next to Ms. Black. No one is on the other side but blinding light. She looks a question at me.

“Go ahead. Perform.”

She stands up, and walks into the new stage that awaits her.

Chapter Text

“… And that’s a wrap!”

A collective exhale and a little cheering. Cameras were cut, lights were shut off. Everyone said their goodbyes and shuffled off to where they had to be, including Judith Sheindlin.

She spent her subway commute in silence (or the closest thing you could get to silence on the New York subway). Judith loved New York, but sometimes it sucked. Same went for her job. She loved it but it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and there was nothing you could do about that.

This episode the producers thought it would be nice to do a crossover with other big names in the legal entertainment industry. They picked up a Japanese guy and some schmuck from Albuquerque, New Mexico. The former kept shouting “Objection!” even when he had no precedence, and the other kept spewing nonsensical bullshit. It was a headache trying to get any results out of either of them. But hey, as long as the audience will enjoy it.

In no time at all, the subway rattled its way to her stop and she hopped off. The urban, nocturnal fumes filled her lungs and relief filled her heart. It had been a long, long day on set. (If she had to hear the word “chicanery” one more time, it’d be her sitting in the defendant seat.)

She entered her apartment complex, got in an elevator, and punched in her floor. A number of dings later, the doors opened and she strode forward.

It took a lot to catch Judith Sheindlin off-guard. When you host a show like hers, you see and hear a thing or two. You get a thick skin, you get desensitized to the madness. But often its the little things that can cause the greatest effect. As she walked up to her front door, something felt off. Only when she got closer did she see it.

It was unlocked.

Judith fiddled around her purse and pulled out her trusty switchblade. She kicked open the door.

“WHOEVER THE FUCK IS IN HERE, YOU BETTER GET OUT NOW!”

Silence.

She cautiously stepped inside and flicked the lights on. Each item seemed to be in place, exactly where she left it. And with each paranoid step, shadows danced out of the corner of her eye, taunting her. But when she turned her head, she only saw the apartment as she remembered it. But something still wasn’t right.

She scanned over the kitchen table again, this time more thoroughly. The human mind is a fickle thing. It takes many shortcuts in presenting the absolute torrent of information it receives from all the organs in the body. One such shortcut is with the eyes. The human eye will repeatedly ignore the very thing it’s looking for, only to realize its error later on.

There was exactly one item out of place on the kitchen table: an empty cup of pudding. Did I leave that there before I left for work …?

Judith walked to the kitchen table and looked closer at the pudding cup. She reached to pick it up, and the room around her blurred. She felt the wind get knocked out of her as a great weight pressed against her chest.

In a daze, she realized that something had tackled her and was currently pinning her to the ground. She tried leaning up to see her captor.

She came face to face with a lion.

A shining silver headpiece, bearing a crimson gem. Golden fur. Eyes as yellow and wrathful as the sun. It bore its dagger-like fangs and growled inches from her face. If she had any air left in her lungs, Judith would’ve been screeching.

It leaned forward,

opened its mouth,

and spoke.

Judith thought she was having pre-death hallucinations or something, but no. The creature said a word, not an English one. From somewhere behind the lion, she heard the voice of a woman speaking, in the same language that she did not know. She opened her mouth to respond, say something, anything. But she soon found that she could not breath, could not even gasp or make any noise. The room’s walls and ceiling seemed to shrink and flatten and close in on Judith’s body until

Judith was no more.

Chapter Text

She was gone.

I didn’t know how I knew it or why it was the case, but she was gone. Not gone in the existential, mortal sense. No, she was alive. That I also knew inexplicably. But she just… didn’t exist.

Not here at least.

Revy had taken about a month to clear the entire tournament bracket. I had stayed behind for the first few days, but I couldn’t get any more information from her, and I didn’t even think of asking any of the students. They’d probably throw me in an asylum. Eventually I knew I was getting nowhere. I had to go back doing jobs at the Lagoon Corp, anyways. Revy was still on probation or, as she liked to call it, “mandatory vacation” (because of her negligent friendly fire, a wound which still hasn’t healed metaphorically or physically).

But this vacation had turned into purgatory. As soon as I felt this disturbance, I hopped on the quickest flight to Japan as soon as I could. I rushed all the way back to that school, that goddamn school. That damned building wasn’t satisfied taking away my life during childhood, it also had to take away my girlfriend’s my friend’s life too.

To be entirely honest, I was not doing so great in that moment. I slept through the plane flight and that threw my circadian rhythm out of whack. The sweltering heat of my homeland caressed my neck like a noose, the heat I once knew like my own kin. And one of the only anchors I had in my life, one of the few shoulders I could lean on, one of the few souls I could trust was gone.

Standing in front of the source of the biggest source my childhood trauma didn’t help much either. All the insults I heard over the years still echoed in my cranium. But the opening of the school doors snapped me out of my delirium. A girl with auburn hair and a crown-shaped pin in her hair walked through the doors.

In hindsight, I should’ve known better. But right in the moment, I was extremely distressed and lacking some crucial number of hours of sleep. So I grabbed this random high schooler by her shoulders, shook her back and forth, and asked (screamed) “WHERE’S REVY?!”

She broke out of my grasp and cupped her hands to her mouth. “Stranger danger! Stranger danger!” she yelled. Then she pulled out a gun.

She leveled it at me and said, “Stand back pervert, or I’ll fucking Starlight you! I don’t wanna go back to jail, but I’ll do it!” Being around Revy had desensitized me to guns, and for a moment I almost forgot just how dangerous it was to have one pointed at your face. Almost.

Thankfully, before I got murdered by a fourteen year old girl, another fourteen year old girl stepped in front of me with her arms spread.

“Karen-chan! Calm down!” It was a girl with banana-shaped hair accessories, or so I thought. It took a few seconds to register that what I was looking at was her hair.

The gun-wielding girl, Karen I assumed, slowly lowered the weapon. After a moment of very forced, very awkward laughter, the weird-haired girl turned around and introduced herself as Daiba Nana (though she often went by Banana-chan (No, I’m not kidding)).

“Sorry about that,” Karen said, stowing away the gun. “It’s just that hearing Revy’s name awakens traumatic memories in all of us.” Nana hummed in agreement. It was only then I put myself in their shoes. I nearly shit myself meeting Revy as an adult; how scarring would it be if I were a kid, and we were locked in mortal combat?

“No, I should be the one apologizing, both for my own actions and for Revy’s.” I gave a hurried, tired bow which the two returned in kind.

Nana looked at me. “You must be Rock. Revy told us much about you when she wasn’t beating the shit out of us.” I could only supply more awkward laughter as a response. Without a gun being shoved in my face, I got a clearer view of Nana. Though her hair had the shape of bananas, it wasn’t the color of bananas but instead the color of oranges.

I opened my mouth, but froze. There was something about this girl that I just couldn’t explain. It was like I was being stared at with a gorgon’s gaze, like Medusa from Fate/Grand Order. But there were no snakes. Only bananas. And a pair of aged green eyes. The green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on continued to stare at me. I gaped and gasped, sputtered and stammered, trying and failing to find the words to say. A million questions danced and died on my tongue. I settled for, “She’s gone… isn’t she.” Saying even that much took a Herculean amount of effort.

Nana nodded. “She became the Top Star. And with that, she ascended.” The sun seared my skin as memories of hushed rumors and repressed whispers washed over me.

“Those words,” I said. “I’ve heard them for my entire life. Even as a kid, when I didn’t even think anything of it.” I leaned in closer to Nana. “What does it mean to be Top Star? What does it mean to ‘ascend’?”

She glanced around, checking for anyone else around the front courtyard (except for Karen). Empty. I flinched as she stared at me with her old, old eyes. “The Giraffe,” she said.

I blinked. “The giraffe?”

And she explained everything. The tournament. The hidden stadium beneath the school. The tears. The bloodshed.

I was shocked. Stunned. Positively gobsmacked. The things these girls have seen… the things these girls have done… The drama could’ve filled up twelve episodes of a summer seasonal anime in the far-off year of 2018. I had to sit down on the curb to absorb it all. “How the fuck can we get her back?” I asked. “Who could possibly know what to do?”

Nana pondered for a moment. From unfathomable depths, her eyes lit up. “To undo a change that great is no small feat,” she said. “But surely it must be out there. And there’s only one person who could know such a thing. Lucky for you, I happen to know him.”

I glanced at her. “Is he a friend of yours?” I asked.

She smiled. “You could say that.”

JAGSHEMASH! MY NAME BORAT. I COME FROM KAZAKHSTAN TO IMPROVE INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS WITH THE ORIENT. TODAY PRIME MINISTER AND NUMBER ONE PORNSTAR JOHNNY THE MONKEY HAS SENT ME TO JAPPAN TO COMMUNICATE AND EXCHANGE CULTURAL VALUES. I WALKING AROUND SHEEBOOJAH LOOKING FOR JAPANESE PRIME MINISTER SHINZO ABE. BUT HE DEAD! HE IS PUBLICLY EXECUTED. SOMEONE WITH DEE EYE WHY IKEA GUN WALKS UP AND SEPPUKU’D HIM. I WAS WEEPING IN MIDDLE OF STREET, WHEN I GET CALL FROM MY BESTIE, BABA NANA! SHE HILARIOUS! SHE TELL ME THAT A CHINESE MAN NEED MY HELP, SO I SHOW UP AT THE REVUE STARLIGHT SCHOOL TO MEET THIS CHINESE MAN. I GIVE HIM TRADITIONAL KAZAKHSTAN GREETING WHERE WE PRESENTING OF THE ASSHOLES. HE NOT LIKE. VERY SAD! BUT THIS IS JAPPAN AND THEY DO NOT DO THINGS NORMALLY HERE (EXCEPT FOR THEIR TREATMENT OF THE FEMALES. GREAT SUCCESS!) HE SAY HIS NAME ROCK. VERY MANLY NAME, NOT FITTING FOR THIS SKINNY BOY WITH FEMININE HIPS. HE SAY HIM LOOKING FOR HIS FAVORITE PROSTITUTE. SAY A GIRAFFE STOLEN HER AWAY. I’VE HEAR THIS STORY THOUSANDS OF TIMES BEFORE IN KAZAKHSTAN. TALE OLD-ASS TIME. THAT IS HOW MY GRANPAPI MET HIS FOURTH WIFE. ANYWAY I TELL HIM THAT I WILL CONTACT KAZAKHSTAN GLOBAL INFORMATION SYSTEM. IT IS BEST IN WORLD

I didn’t know who to expect to hop out of that bus, but it certainly wasn’t a strange, unsettling, kind of smelly Eastern European man. Especially one who kept trying to show me his butthole (I don’t want to talk about it).

“Ba-Banana! I so happy to sees you!” he yelled.

Nana smiled. “And I you, my old friend.”

I whipped my head around so fast I almost broke my neck. I wasn’t expecting Borat to speak English, but I certainly wasn’t expecting Nana to either. And it seemed he had a stutter? That’s fine, I guess. Another one of his “quirky charms.”

Thankfully due to my company having active overseas branches, my English skills were pretty decent, better than the average Japanese person’s. Borat’s on the other hand… Well, I shouldn’t disparage others for that sorta thing. English is a tough language. But Nana’s English was on another level. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve thought she was haafu and spent a significant amount of time in America.

She introduced the two of us to each other. Borat tried for a more “personal” introduction, one which I had to decline several times. So we tried to find somewhere to sit and chat. This turned out to be a Herculean task. Due to his past visits to Japan, Borat could not be within 100 feet of a vending machine. If you’ve ever been to Japan, you would understand my pain. It took half an hour of searching to find a suitable location, a stretch of rural road just outside the city.

Everything about this man was off. His hair was dry as a McDonald’s quarter pounder with cheese, his skin as oily as one. His walk had an unplaceable rhythm to it. His garb mocked design sensibilities of the past three decades. He had this ginormous smile that unnerved me. But the strangest thing about him was his eyes.

While Nana’s eyes were too old, Borat’s eyes were too shrewd. Despite what his mouth may imply, this man knew something. Many somethings. Too many somethings. It made me uncomfortable.

Due to how far from civilization we were, it was unlikely anyone was eavesdropping, so Nana decided to pop the question.

“Borat,” Nana said. “I have a request for you, if it’s not too much to ask.”

Borat spread his hands open. “Not at all. Question please!”

“Wait,” I said. “Don’t tell this random guy! This is confidential information.” My English skills were being put to the test. Bobson-sensei, I hope I’m not letting you down.

Borat only got more excited by my words. “My friend, Kazakh does not have word ‘confidential,’” he said. “My unquenchable thirst for knowledge has propelled me to new cultures. I started company calls Daily Days! They sell the information. And now Kazakhstan now has number one rogue intel network!”

“Okay,” I said. That was all I could say, really.

But Borat’s off-putting smile somehow grew wider. “You not believe me, eh?”

I scratched the back of my head and gave a weak chuckle. “Well… it sounds hard to believe.”

He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out its contents, and dumped them into my unsuspecting hands. It was several slices of salami wrapped around something. He held his hand out and I reluctantly accepted the gift. I peeled back the layers of salami (Why was it so warm?) and dropped them to the wavering black pavement. Though the paper was soggy, the words were still legible. As my eyes glanced over the words, my stomach dropped.

My eyes whipped back up to his. “H-How do you…”

“Best information network in world! Very nice!” And he put up two thumbs.

“Do you believe him now?” Nana asked me. Though not smiling, her smug aura still mocked me. I nodded dumbly. “Then let’s ask him. Borat, do you know anything about Ascension?”

“My wife!”

I arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

Nana turned back to look at me, waving her hand. “Don’t worry, that’s just a tic of his,” she said.

Great, I thought. Another charming character quirk.

“Let me sees… there is some knowledge about this. ‘Ascension’ is like ‘храм’, has many meaningses. In your case this woman, the Revy, has Ascension. That means she of in another place of the existence.”

“And is there anything we can do to get her back?” asked Nana.

He stroked his Zappa ’stache. “Well Ba-Banana, I has good news. There is currently research undergoings. It is in California. Thai woman. Names is Boobchoi, I think. I will acquire plane inmediately.”

There was that stutter again. But it only happened when he said Nana’s name. Is that even a stutter? Why was he saying Ba-Banana? I reached into my pockets for a cigarette, but came out empty. In my rush to get to Japan I forgot to fill up on cartons. Hm.

Then a thought strolled into my mind. What if it wasn’t Ba-Banana, but Baba Nana. Baba means “old lady,” so “Old Lady Nana”? That couldn’t be right. Borat doesn’t speak any Japanese.

(But doesn’t baba also means “old lady” in Europe?)

But that was enough of my musings. Seemed like our best bet to getting Revy back was in America, so we were off to the States. Once again forced to speak English. Great…

Nana leaned in close to Borat, so close I could barely make out what she said. But I did.

“I’ve gotten word from some Guild members. You need to be careful, Number Zero. You’re being hunted.”

Borat’s face darkened. “Wah wah wee wah…”

Chapter Text

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m not really sure what I learned today, but I feel like if I describe the traumatizing events that just happened to me, you might be able to gleam something.

Ponyville was quiet, as per usual. Spike had just gotten a new crystal he was gnawing on, and I was at my usual studies.

And then there was this huge explosion!

I came trotting out of my library to find something I had never thought I’d see again. It was a human! I had never encountered one outside of the Equestria Girls Universe.

This human had brown skin like the mayor and darkish hair like Octavia Melody. She had fingerless gloves and was wearing a black tank top and denim underwear. It seemed like a normal enough human outfit to me, except she wasn’t wearing any shoes. I thought humans usually wore those.

(I should mention that this human had some “interesting” and choice words to share. For the sake of posterity, I’ll edit those changes to be more age-appropriate.)

“Where the fudge am I? And why is it so fudging bright and colorful here?” she asked nopony in particular.

I decided to trot out to meet her, a decision I would later regret.

I tried basic pleasantries. “Hello there!” I said. “My name is Twilight--”

“Oh sweet cheese and crackers it’s a fudging talking horse,” she yelped. She reached for empty holsters at her hips. When her hands made contact with nothing but air, disappointment flashed across her face. “Right. Shoot. Ugh.” She took a vaguely defensive stance, looking at me with nothing but disgust.

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just repeated my introduction but slower this time. “...Hello there. My name is Twilight Sparkle. What is your name?”

“And it’s purple!” the strange woman, ignoring me. “What the hay did that giraffe drug me with.” (No, “giraffe” is not one of my censorings).

Did this creature understand what language I was speaking? I honestly wasn’t sure then and I’m still not sure now. But just to be safe, I repeated my introduction once more. “Um… hello there… my name--”

She held up her paws (hands? They might be called hands). “Hold your horses Grimace, I heard you the first time.” She blinked. “Wait, is ‘hold your horses’ like a racist term here? Never mind, I don’t care actually. My name is, uh. Hm. My name is ‘Starlight Glimmer,’ or whatever.”

I gasped. “No way! I have a friend with that name.”

That managed to get a smile out of her. “You’re joking right?”

“No. Why would I be?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Heh. Well, if I’m trapped in this H***a-B****a fever dream, I might as well roll with it.” (My legal team advised me to censor that name. Not sure why.) She held out the hand. “Revy. My name’s Revy. I was lying, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” I said and stuck out my hoof in kind. I’m glad that our two cultures had this gesture in common, but it was still weird to shave hooves (appendages?) with someone with “fingers” as I believe they’re called. It’s not at all like a normal hoofshake. It’s like shaking hooves with an octopus! Even though I spent time in a human body, it still weirded me out.

“So where are you from?” I asked. “Did you cause that explosion?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t think I caused any explosion, which is actually surprising considering my track record. As for where I am, let’s just say I’m visiting from out of town.”

“Oh? Are you from Dodge Junction?”

“Yeah, sure. Speaking of places to stay… uh…” She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced around.

It was kinda cute how this bizarre, rugged creature could look somewhat embarrassed. But now that we shook hooves (appendages, really), we were officially and legally friends. And a true, true friend helps a friend in need.

After a quick scene transition, we were standing outside the entrance to Castle of Friendship. Though it was still an impressive structure of amethyst and other gemstones I don’t know the names of, it’s been a couple years since it first popped up. At this point, I’m relatively used to it. So it was almost refreshing to see a stranger’s reactions to it.

“Holy hay bale on a pitchfork, you live in here?!” she asked. Revy was staring slack-jawed at the castle. “Gosh freaking darn, this place is fudging marketable. You could probably make a shoot-ton of money by turning these into toys for little girls or something.”

I chuckled. “Oh, you have no fucking idea.”

She glanced at me. “Hm?”

“Nothing.”

I walked her through the castle’s crystalline double doors. I gave her a brief tour of its facilities, the big meeting room, so on and so forth, until finally I lead her to the guest bedroom.

I doubt you’ve ever seen it before Princess Celestia, but it’s a pretty simple room. Sure, the walls are a misty sapphire and the window provided a gorgeous view of the sun rising and setting, but really it’s just a bedroom. It has a small wardrobe in the corner, a simple bed with plain sheets, and a desk. It was also small compared to the master bedroom.

Still, Revy’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Even a simple room like this was far more luxurious than she was used to. Poor girl. Uh, no pun intended.

“So?” I asked. “What do you think?”

She snapped out of her stupor. “Oh! Um. It’s fine.” She crossed her arms and glanced away to make herself look aloof. “I’ve seen better,” she said.

I tried to keep the smug grin off of my face. It was uncanny how similar her mannerisms were to Rainbow Dash. Despite the differences between her species and mine, perhaps we had more in common than not. Speaking of Rainbow Dash, I knew just the place to show her next.

Sugarcube Corner hustled and bustled with customers. It was Saturday, so of course everypony was enjoying their day off. And this included the Mane 6. Revy looked like she was in desperate need of a milkshake, so I decided to let her join our routine girls day.

Our walk there was a bit awkward. Lots of Ponyville citizens pointed and whispered, but my royal presence assured them that Revy was a strange creature, but no threat. Revy herself was also looking uncomfortable, but that was because she was still walking around barefoot.

When we arrived, I was met with five confused faces. Everyone else was too busy enjoying their sweet treats to care about this lumbering creature. But the rest of the Mane 6 just stared slack-jawed. Revy sensed this was an introduction of sorts and tried waving a hand.

“Hey everypony,” I began, “I’d like you to meet our new best friend.”

Revy stopped her awkward wave-and-smile routine. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘best’ friend?”

“Her name’s Revy, and she’s not from around here.”

Revy cringed as the Mane 6 pranced around her and bombarded her with questions, comments, and concerns.

Applejack was a bit confused out but in an open-minded way. “So sugarcube, how are ya likin’ Ponyville so far?” she asked.

Revy shrugged. “I’ve only been here for about three hours, but this place seems nice. I’ve been to worse.”

Pinkie Pie was excited to meet a new, albeit strangely shaped, friend. “Ooh! What’s your favorite fruit? No no no! What’s your favorite song?” she asked.

Revy grimaced, and said nothing.

Rarity was drawn to her rugged outfit. “That’s a rather drab outfit if I may say so, darling,” she said.

Revy pouted. “Well you may NOT say so. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Fluttershy was the least weirded out because of how much time she spent around other animals. “You do qualify as a mammal, right?” she asked.

Revy gestured to her upper body. “I got tits, don’t I?” Fluttershy nodded sagely at this answer. (I still don’t see how birds are any indication of being a mammal or not. Maybe I should dedicate more study to biology.)

And finally, Rainbow Dash felt threatened for some reason. She didn’t even say anything to Revy. She just looked at me, and said, “Please don’t replace me, Twilight.”

To be honest, I was expecting worse. But I was worried about nothing: the gals were getting along with Revy just fine!

Two hours trotted past as we exchanged discussions with our culture. Now I get why Lyra is so obsessed with these creatures. They’re so similar to us, yet so different!

Soon even Revy’s icy exterior was starting to melt. She was leaning back in her chair, bare feet resting on the table top. “Where I’m from, they call me Two Hands,” she said. “Y’know why?”

“Ooh! I know, I know!” said Pinkie Pie, nearly vibrating out of her seat. “Is it because you have two hands?”

A pointed finger-and-thumb and clicking tongue indicated that she was right. “You’re smarter than you look, Pinks,” said Revy.

A wide grin spread across her face. “Awwww, thank you!”

Rainbow Dash furrowed her multicolor brow. “But wait, aren’t most humans supposed have two hands?” she asked.

Then Revy pointed her finger at her. “Dash, you better shut your snout or else I’m gonna shove you into a jar.”

For some reason, she recoiled viscerally. Everyone else laughed, more at Dash’s reaction than the comment.

Revy’s smile was the widest it had been all day. “You sure got a lot of friends, Twi,” she said. I smiled in turn. It took me so long to learn the true meaning of friendship, no thanks to you, Your Highness.

“She actually wasn’t as social as a butterfly at the start y’know,” chimed Rainbow Dash, recovering from her trauma in a blink. “Poor girl was a textbook bookworm. I don’t think she had any friends!”

“Yes, thank you Dash,” I said. She always knew the wrong thing to say.

At least Revy enjoyed the teasing, cuz she burst into laughter. “Yeah, you still got that ‘egghead’ written all over you, princess or not. You can’t rewrite the past that easily.” She frowned as the words left her mouth. What was going on with her?

I hate seeing a friend of mine suffer, so I changed the subject. “So you said you’re out of town, right?” I asked.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m going with.” Revy continued stirring her cup of coffee.

“You do know I’m aware of what humans are?”

Revy’s head snapped in my direction. “You do? Well, why the hay didn’t you say so?”

“They aren’t exactly common knowledge,” I said. “I only know about your kind through internal governmental affairs. I actually visited the human world once.” Even through my exposure there, I still felt out of my league around an actual human. I learned more in this one afternoon than all four of those movies (and specials, and shorts).

“Really? Are you sure it was the same as my human world?”

That made me pause. I had never even considered that there could be other worlds out there, and if there were that the other worlds might contain non-equine beings. Goes to show how ingrained pony-centric culture is in my way of thinking.

“I guess not. Do you have a cutie mark?” My question made the rest of the girls look at Revy. Cutie marks were central to pony identity, arguably what defines ponies and non-ponies.

And just like I thought, Revy raised her eyebrow at me. “A what now?”

“I figured as much. In both this world and the human world that I visited, individuals had what are known as cutie marks on their bodies. They sum up your being in a single glyph.”

Revy stared down into her mug as if it had apple cider. “The sum of your being, huh?”

Oh barnacles. I made the situation worse.

I was no stranger to messing up, but it still made my stomach flip thinking about how Revy must be feeling. And we had just met! Those kinds of wounds are especially painful when they’re from new friends.

I opened my mouth, trying to think of what to say to her.

And that’s when the citizens of Ponyville bucked down the door. I had never seen so many pitchforks localized entirely within that bakery.

Revy again reached for her holsters, but came up empty. She stared at her hands is dismay as she was swarmed by a technicolor herd. It all happened so fast that none of us had time to react. Rarity and I were both inexperienced in combat magic. It was in such close quarters that Applejack’s strength was no help. Despite how powerful all of us were, we were simply swamped by sheer numbers.

“Burn her!” they chanted. “Burn the demon!”

The citizens of Ponyville raised their pitchforks and torches and righteous hooves thrust into the air. Each familiar and friendly face was twisted into a gnarled scowl. The only warmth in their eyes was the burning passion for bloodshed.

Okay, maybe trying to bring her around town without warning was a bad idea. I forgot how unwelcoming this place was to newcomers.

Despite our best efforts, Revy got shackled in the village stocks. I didn’t even know we had those. She was covered from head to toe in various vegetables and other organic debris. And she was mad. But not in the way Rainbow Dash gets mad, screaming at the top of her lungs. Nor in the way Rarity gets mad, gritting her teeth and whining. Nor in the way Applejack gets mad, taking her anger out on the trees in her orchard.

Revy was quiet.

The moment she get shackled up there she stopped struggling. Her two hands hung limply in the stocks and she was barely holding up her own head. She was like a statue. A weird, misshapen, fleshy statue. The only thing that indicated that she was a living being were her eyes.

My goodness, her eyes.

It took a five-minute speech from each member of the Mane 6, an emergency royal decree (Now you know why I sent that extremely urgent letter, Princess Celestia), and two whole song numbers before the townsfolk calmed down.

It’s a miracle nobody died.

So yeah. Those were today’s events. I hope you learned something, because I don’t think I did.

I guess, if I had to pick, what I learned today was to not make friends that appear in the forest from explosions. Yeah, that sounds marketable enough.

For my own mental health, I am going on a week-long hiatus/vacation in Manehattan. Do not contact me.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle.

Chapter Text

The first time I was in California, I was about ten.

It was a family vacation. Before they divorced, my mom and dad loved travelling together, and they loved it even more once I was old enough to travel with them. I was awestruck staring at just how wide the interstate highway was. I thought that was something the movies exaggerated, but no. Those Americans really loved asphalt. That was my first memory of this country.

“I cannot believes they let this skank Trish on American public radios! The Italians are always cultural degeneracy.”

Of course, we went to Disneyworld and the Hollywood sign and all those other tourist spots. Our trip may not have been original, but it was one of the happiest memories I’ve ever had with my family. Working for Asahi Industries gave me a few more opportunities to go back to the US. Sometimes in California, sometimes not.

“On your right, Borat, your right! Oh my God, oh my God…”

In a sense, my being in America right now is a mirror of the first time I was here. For one thing, I’m in the back seat again. Nana, despite being the youngest (I think), got shotgun.

“A red light usually means ‘stop’ here in the United States,” she said.

And for another, I was crying again.

“Borat, be honest with me,” I pleaded, “do you have a driver’s license?”

“Of course not, the doctor say I am a handred por-sent clean!” He took both hands off the wheel and turned his entire body back to me to give me a double thumbs up. “Very nice!”

“Eyes on the road,” said Nana. For a teenager, she was strangely calm in the face of death. Also why was she riding shotgun? Is that even allowed in this country? (Who was I kidding, they let kids half her age wield firearms. Revy would’ve loved this place. Revy…)

The tires squealed as Borat jerked the steering wheel to and fro. Our car had a radio but somehow lacked AC; the air was full of good tunes, my screams, and the smell of sweat and burnt rubber.

“So in Kazakhstan, do people drive on the left or right?” Nana asked.

Borat lifted his bushy brows like antennas to Heaven. “Left or right? What are you talk about?” he said. “Kazakhstan has no politic allegiance, we are centrist country!”

“But which side of the road do you drive on?” I asked. “The left side or the right side?”

“I just says, we are centrist!”

At least that explained the last fifty minutes of driving straight down the middle of the road.

“Okay, but the thing is–” A chorus of honks graced our ears. “–we aren’t in Kazakhstan.”

“I am foreign diplomat. Wherever shall I go, the Kazakh law follow.”

I pressed the heels of my hands into my closed eyes until clouds of colors danced in the darkness.

“Why is Borat the one driving?” I asked no one.

“Because I’m technically a minor and also can’t drive, and you don’t have an American license.”

“Neither does Borat!”

“The Kazakhstani license is actually recognized by US law, thanks in no part to Borat’s cultural exchange efforts.”

I removed my hands stared dead at Nana. “He just said he doesn’t have a license.”

She slowly faced forward in her seat. “…Touché.”

The next hour and a half passed in delirium. Sweat from heat and stress fused my ass to the car seat. The jerky movement and deafening honks faded into the back of my mind as I faded from the fabric of reality. I was not there. The car was not there. California was not there. Nothing was there. No sounds. No smells. No movement.

No movement.

No movement…?

If I hadn’t sweated out all my water, I would have been crying tears of joy. I shoved the car door open, rolled out onto the asphault, and began kissing it.

Borat and Nana got out of the car too. “There is mentally something wrong with you, yes?” said Borat. “Your Chinese bone structure has not adapted to higher gravity of the America?”

I was too deep in bliss to get offended. I peeled myself off the ground and dusted off my dress pants. “So,” I said, “where’s this Boonchuy girl?”

We were parked outside of some government building named WWB Labs. By the looks of it this was a tolled parking lot, and one with non-trivial security. How did we get in here?

I glanced behind us. The security booth arm was snapped in half. The attendant inside was screaming into his comms.

“So, I have the good news and the bad news,” said Borat. “Good news? We can talk to Boobchoy. Bad news? Only temporarily. And only once.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

The three of us bolted to the lab’s front door, locked with a card reader. I gripped onto the door handle and heaved with all of my body weight.

No dice.

“A little help?” I grunted under the strain.

Nana shook her head. “Hate to disappoint, but I don’t think I can do anything here.”

The door rattled as I stopped pulling and fell to my knees, panting. Even Dutch couldn’t make this thing budge. Now we were gonna sent to prison and lose our only hope of a lead. Borat was somehow the most calm of us three.

“Relax you pussy-cats. I gyatt this.” He pulled out his Kazakhstani passport and pressed it to the card reader on the left.

Click.

He pulled the door open without a sweat.

I was so shocked that for a moment I forgot to be panicked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“When you have dirt on the America like I do,” said Borat, tucking his passport back between his buttcheeks, “you can go to anywhere.” We rushed inside as I weighed those words in my mind.

Every moment I spend with him, I grow more and more afraid of Borat. And indirectly, more and more afraid of Nana.

The building lobby smelled like government. The paper-pushing, the bureaucracy, the stale coffee all greeted my nose like a one-night stand the next morning. It felt like being back at Asahi Industries offices. The walls were ripped straight from a ’90s sci-fi movie with how weathered and gray they were. The one on the left was covered with cathode-ray tube monitors flashing assorted statistics and a blue screen or two. The backdrop was a map of the world showing the building’s location and the times of various world capitals. At the center of the lobby was a half-crescent desk, made of the same faded material as the walls.

The receptionist on duty was a woman with long, unkept, and unwashed black hair. Her silver earrings twinkled in the building’s fluorescent lights. Her denim jacket shielded her from the harsh air conditioning, just barely more tolerable then the dry California air. Our commotion and entering didn’t perturb her in the slightest; she kept typing up a storm on her laptop. Unless I was mistaken, this girl was Chinese. The name plate on her desk confirmed this.

Marcy Wu et al.

We stood frozen. On one hand, we didn’t want to attract any attention. On the other, we had no idea how to proceed.

Borat addressed both issues at once by walking to the front desk. The receptionist looked up and flinched.

“Oh! Haha, I’m sorry, you surprised me,” she said. “I can get pretty focused on things. That’s my bad. Hey, how did you get in here?”

Her smile and tone were inviting, but if I’ve learned anything in the past 12 hours, it’s that looks can be deceiving.

Nana tried lying. “Um, we were just passing by, and uh…” My blood pressure was increasing at an exponential rate. My head was about to explode.

But Borat raised his passport and sported his trademark grin.

Recognition flashed in Marcy’s eyes “Ah, Borat! I’ve heard much about you. At least I know why the alarms went off. Lemme take care of that for ya.” She pressed a button on the underside of the desk and all the commotion outside stopped. “So what brings you to our humble laboratories?”

A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a wrinkled hand-me-down suit jacket. Just what the hell have I gotten myself into.

“We would like to speak to the Boobchoy,” he said. Succinct as usual.

Marcy smiled cheekily. “Well teeeeeeechnically…” she said, reaching under her desk. “I’m something of a ‘Boobchoy’ myself.”

She shoved the name plate off her desk and replaced it with a newer, much longer one. It was so long it resembled a jumbo stick of Toblerone.

Marcy Wu-Waybright-Boonchuy

“But you’re probably talking about Anne, my wife,” she said. “Unfortunately, she can’t talk with you.”

“My wife!” said Borat.

“What?” said Nana. “Why not?”

“She’s herping in the Amazon Rainforest, has been for the past month. Not a lot of good cell reception out there and believe me, I’ve tried.”

Borat’s jaw hung open in shock. “Wow! She has the herping for a whole month? I pray for her health.”

“But, anything you can ask her you can ask me. Besides being wives who smoke weed together, we’re also tight-knit government employees working on similar projects.”

There was no indication of her lying. The three of us shared glances between each other. The computers beeped as we wordlessly weighed our options. Then we nodded. Borat leaned in close to Marcy. His odor made her nose wrinkle.

“I have been hearing that you develop a portal to other worlds,” he said.

Marcy’s eyebrows shot up. “How the heck did you figure that out?”

“Kazakhstan has best intelligence network. Very nice!” Borat held two thumbs up.

Laying all our cards out was a risky move, but at this point we were desperate. She laughed. “Well, if you already know about it, there’s no harm in showing it off!”

Marcy shoved herself out of her seat and walked us through the hallways past her desk.

The four of us stood before an old Pepsi vending machine which hummed a single, low note. The brand photos behind the stressed plastic buttons had lost nearly all color. The corresponding lights flickered yet persisted.

Marcy stepped up to the the machine’s side and turned to her audience.

She smirked. “Here, lemme buy you a drink.”

“Diet Pepsi,” said Nana. Marcy’s smirk fell from her face.

“No, I was quoting Half-Life 2!”

Blank stares.

“You know, Valve’s best game since Half-Life 1? Completely revolutionized the first-person shooter genre as we know it? Garry’s Mod? Skibidi toilet?”

More blank stares.

Marcy let out a sigh deep from her soul. “Nevermind.” She punched in a code into the number pad and then slapped the side of the vending machine twice. The front panel slid open, revealing stone steps that led into darkness. “Follow me, and don’t trip!” she said.

We began our descent.

“Hang on,” Nana said. “If you have access to a top secret research lab, how come you were staffing the front desk?”

Though I couldn’t see her face in the darkness, I imagined her smiling sheepishly. “I got a little too excited and knocked over some equipment. So I decided to stay at the front desk for a while and calm my overstimulated self. But don’t worry, I won’t break anything this time! Probably.”

We continued down the steps. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could see a faint glow from the edge of each step. Glow-in-the-dark cautionary tape maybe? The air smelled more and more sterile as we descended, contrary to my expectations. But with each step, my concern grew more and more.

“This feels like a violation of some sort of internal policy. Are you sure it’s okay to show this off to random people without government affiliation?”

Marcy laughed and waved her hand. “Oh, it super isn’t! And you’re right, this is in violation of some internal government stuff. But I haven’t had the chance to show this off to anyone before, and me and the girls are super proud of it. I mean, we’ve been working on this project since we were in college! Besides, Mr. Borat here was just saying that he already knew about it. So there’s no need to be keeping secrets.”

It was a miracle Uncle Sam kept this woman on payroll. But I’ve stopped being the type to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After ten minutes, the stairway started getting brighter. Soon enough we were at the entrance of a secret lab. And it looks exactly like you imagine. There were beakers of the strangest shapes pumping colorful fluid back and forth. Even more machinery beeped and booped with dazzling LEDs.

And at the center of the giant room was a circular platform made of metal. Four claws extended upward from the rim of the platform, pointed inward as if guarding the center. Though it was powered off, the sheer aura of the device was enough to give me vertigo.

“Is that…?” I asked.

Marcy looked back at us with the proudest grin on her face. “You betcha. This right here is just what the doctor ordered!”

This was the biggest chance I had at seeing Revy again.

This was a portal between worlds.

I was signing documents in the Oval Office when someone knocked on my door.

My brow furrowed. Nothing was in my schedule for this slot. But there’s always surprises with this job.

“Come in,” I said.

Two men with buzzcuts, black suits, black ties, and black shades opened the door. Only one of the men in black was actually black; the other was white. I was all too familiar with them, first as CIA agents and now as leaders of the Secret Service. Their names were Mr. White and Mr. Black respectively, supporting my theory that God exists and has a sick sense of humor.

“Madam President, we have some awful news,” said Mr. Black.

“Go on.”

He produced an iPad displaying a screenshot from security cam footage. It was a Kazakhstani man inside of an airport. The mere sight of him made me gasp. He looked exactly like he did in the terrorist debriefing, with his wild mustache and even wilder smile.

“Goodness, what’s he doing here?” I asked.

“That’s exactly what we wanted to figure out, Madam President,” said Mr. White. “He was accompanied by two individuals, one male adult and one female teenager. We tailed them through their voyage across California, which was easier than I’d like to admit. And we found something you’d like to hear.”

I wanted to roll my eyes but I kept my composure. “Which is…?” I asked. I thought moving away from Japan would rid me of these sorts of trivalties, but some things never change.

Mr. White produced a second iPad, this one displaying a screenshot from a different security cam. One from a less public location. The three culprits were there, Borat and his two underlings. But there was a fourth person in the photo. A woman whose intelligence was rivaled only by my own.

The shock in my nervous system was replaced by frustration. “Is that our Secret Lab?”

“Indeed, Madam President.”

“And is that Researcher Wu?”

“Indeed, Researcher Wu-Waybright-Boonchuy, Madam President.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew her brilliance would someday be outweighed by her fatal flaw of blabbering.”

“But Madam President,” said Mr. Black, “there’s something we haven’t told you.”

I slammed my fist against the desk. “You keep playing these fucking games with me. Just spit it out!”

I could never tell if people spoke to me like this because of my age or because I was a woman. Or hell, maybe it was because English wasn’t my first language (though I’ve spoken it just as fluently as when I was ten years old). Either way, I kept illiciting these sorts of responses. And nothing pisses me off more than being looked down upon.

The two looked away from my piercing gaze. Mr. White cleared his throat.

“They’re after the Bridge, Madam President,” he said. “They’re attempting to make contact with another dimension.”

I sighed. “Of course they are.” I stood up and tightened my bun, which replaced the pigtails I had as a child.

“Come on, you two,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Chapter Text

Dear Rock,

Hi.

I feel happy.

Sincerely,

Revy

Dear Rock,

Hello.

I still feel happy.

Sorry, I’m not much of a writer, but Twilight said writing helped with feelings and shit.

Also, Twilight is making me write these every fucking month.

Sincerely,

Revy

Dear Rock,

Twilight threatened to kick me out of her castle if I didn’t write more than 100 words.

I doubt she would, but I don’t wanna hurt her feelings.

It’s been a while. Wanna say a month. Probably less than. But whatever. You’re never gonna read this anyway.

I should probably explain who this “Twilight” girl is. She’s a new friend I made. And wipe that smirk off your face, I know how to make friends. She’s a huge nerd and right now I’m staying in her castle.

The last time you saw me was performing at that damn theatre school of yours. Well, I don’t know how, but after winning that tournament, I got teleported to this country of horses. The country has a name, but it’s stupid so I’ve been calling it Horseland.

Oh yeah, I showed up in Horseland without my shoes. I still haven’t gotten any replacements. Cuz horses don’t need any. They have hooves. And horseshoes.

Twilight is one of the horses, as you probably guessed. You’re not gonna believe me, but the horses in Horseland are colorful. And they can also talk. No, I did not sneak any of Benny’s stash with me.

She’s also the leader of the settlement I’m in, full name Twilight Sparkle. She has a harem of other girl horses. Kinda weird, but I don’t kinkshame. Anyway, the names of the others are Rainbow Dash, the Pink One, and I forgot the rest.

They’re alright. Nice to talk with.

But yeah. That’s what life’s been like for me.

Don’t hurt yourself out there.

Sincerely,

Revy.

Dear Rock,

Today was good.

It was just a regular Sunday at Sugarcube Corner. We were just chatting about things. Don’t remember how, but the topic of singing came up. I mentioned that I could belt a tune, and none of them believed me. Fuckin’ doubting horses. But I couldn’t let them dishonor me like that, so I stood up and gave it my best.

When I was done, the six ponies were standing there, jaws hanging open.

“Wow! That was incredible! You’re actually really talented at that,” Twilight said.

“Damn right I am,” I said with a smile. I could use more praise from these creatures, especially after I got thrown into wooden manacles (it’s a long story).

The Mane Six (I think that’s what they call themselves) started clapping their hooves. It sounded really unsettling, like almost getting run over by a stampede. I accepted their thanks anyway, gave them a bow. You know how it is.

What can I say? All those days spent at that fucking performing arts school made me into a performer. If that’s where you spent you’re childhood, I can see why you’re such a diva.

I miss you

I miss being able to shoot my guns. Those got lost on my way here too. Well, either lost or taken. Makes no difference to me. I can defend myself plenty with my two bare hands.

Besides, I don’t think these little fuckers know what gunpowder is. If they did, there’d be more ponies with less than four legs. Maybe even a wing or too. (Oh yeah, some of the horses here have wings. Isn’t that freaky?)

After my bows, we all continued eating our sundaes in silence. Sundays were for the girls. After after weeks of acclimation I finally got invited into their inner circle. Turns out these girls are actually ladies. Like grown ass adult horses. Running businesses and shit. I can’t tell what’s worse, the “hot teen goss” I was expecting or the boring talk about mortgages I ended up with. (If you have spare yen, invest in DerpyCoin, it’s on the up right now.)

I shouldn’t be complaining though. There’s no violence here. There’s no life-threatening mission every day. There’s no threat to my friends. Life in Ponyville is exactly what I wished for.

I wished for this. I wanted this.

I want this.

Sincerely,

Revy

Dear Rock,

I feel okay.

As usual, not much is happening here in Ponyville, and anything that does happens is stuff I should stay out of. The Mane 6 go through their usual shenanigans on a weekly basis, but it’s never anything that can be solved with violence (which is what I’m best at, obviously).

But recently, I decided to stop sitting on my ass and twiddling my thumbs all day. I told you that I was rooming with Twilight, right? In her giant, crystal castle? Did I mention that she’s a huge nerd who lives with a massive library? And before that, she told me that she used to live in a library. This egghead loves reading. Kinda freaks me out. I could never do that shit.

Or so I thought.

You see, dear Rocky, boredom’s a bitch. It makes you do the most insane things, things you’d never even dream of doing. And in my case, that was reading.

Not gonna lie, it was rough at first. After living a life hard-wired on adrenaline, doing something that didn’t reward me instantly felt… wrong. There wasn’t the feedback that you have when fighting. There’s a familiar rhythm, or a call and response. You shoot, they die. Simple.

With books, you’re all alone. It’s you. It’s just you. There’s no one there to experience it with but you. I hate that feeling. I hate it so much.

But I didn’t have much else to do, so I powered through. And you know what? I’ve been missing out. This whole reading thing is kinda nice when you get used to it. All my mercenary work would have gotten in the way of me reading back on Earth. But here in Equestria, I can kick back and read all I want.

A few days ago, Twilight caught me reading. She was pretty surprised, which I tried not to be offended by. Unsurprisingly, she had already read every book in her library. That’s a shit-ton of books. Like three floors. But we just spent an hour or two chatting about the books we read. She gave me more recommendations, and I’m making my way through them right now.

It was over breakfast with the girls that Twilight suggested something I had never even thought of.

“Would you like to go to university?” she asked.

I stopped mid-chew, which is a miracle if you’ve ever had pancakes as good as Pinkie’s.

“University?” I said.

“Or some other higher education,” Applejack said. “I assume you have that in your world.”

I swallowed my pancakes. “We do. But I never got a chance to really go. Y’know. Work and all.”

Twilight nodded. “Right, but you also never had a chance to read before, and you’re loving it! Maybe now’s a good time to consider going.”

The rest of the Mane Six chimed in and gave their experiences with college. Twilight obviously went. Rarity had gone for a fashion degree, and Fluttershy for a Veterinary Studies degree. Rainbow Dash got in on a sports scholarship but dropped out cuz she thought studying was boring. Applejack never did because she wanted to maintain her family’s apple orchard, and Pinkie said the same but for her bakery. It wasn’t a path for everyone, that was pretty clear. But was it a path for me?

I mulled over it for the next few days. And what do you know? I wanted to do it. Anything to take my mind off of the past. It was time to leave that life of violence behind.

The universities here open and close with the harvest seasons. That’s when most families can afford to lose a child of theirs to do work. At least that’s what Twilight told me. But also most families don’t farm. And also there’s magic. So I don’t really know what that’s all about.

That fucking giraffe had whisked me away at just the right time. Harvest season was around the corner, and so were college admissions.

Because of how small Equestria is, there aren’t many colleges. But still, I want to get into one. And if they’re as racist as Ponyville, I really need to make a good case for myself.

I’ll be studying my ass off for the next two months. And next time I write, hopefully I’ll be enrolled already.

Best,

Revy.

Chapter Text

The mage in pink breathed in the cool night air and slowly exhaled. Her nose wrinkled. The faint diesel in the air still bothered her, even after all the years spent in the States. It was particularly present in California. Even at night, the lights flowed through the streets of Culver City like blood through veins.

She stood atop a building, an office probably, which provided a gorgeous view of the skyline. And of her current target. A TV set. Her two loyal familiars stood behind her, a lion and an angel.

The lion raised its brow. “Not to cast doubt on the situation, but are you sure this is the place?” he asked.

The mage nodded. “I can sense it,” she said, gripping her staff.

“What in tarnation even is this? A game show?”

“From what I gather, yes. I don’t think it ever made its way to Japan, but it’s a popular series in many other countries.”

“Shhh,” said the angel. “It’s starting.”

The mage nodded. She muttered “Number Twelve” under her breath, held out her hand, and conjured rope from nothing. The rope sailed through the air, and landed on the wall of a nearby skyscraper with a thwip. It fastened itself in place, as if by magic.

She swung down from the building. The air rushing past reminded her of her Fly spell from long ago. But magic is anything but consistent.

The two guardians watched as their master descended and approached an entrance to the building. Quiet as a mouse, she slipped in. Fifteen minutes later, she slipped out. She scanned the skyline for her familiars. When she saw them with their questioning looks, she gave a thumbs up.

The lion sighed loud and theatrically. The angel was similarly relieved, but he played it off. The three regrouped on the ground.

The mage held up the card. The two familiars leaned in to read it. Wheel of Fortune. Number Ten.

“So what does it do?” the lion asked.

The mage shrugged. “Something luck-related, I’m guessing.” She tucked it into her back pocket. “Besides, there’s a bigger issue I want to address.” She grasped her staff tighter and took a deep breath. “I think I’m ready.”

The jaws of both demigods dropped.

“You can’t be serious,” the lion said.

“Please reconsider, Master,” the angel said.

“I have to face her eventually. The sooner, the better.”

The lion and the angel shared a look.

“Oh come on. I’ll live,” she said. “Probably.”

Probably was right.

Less than 48 hours later, the pink mage was lying injured on the Shibuya pavement. Her pink frills were stained red. The crowds had fled mere minutes prior, leaving all by herself. It was just her and her next target.

She sat up as fast as her body would allow her to. But even that strain was too much, and she coughed into her hand. She looked down at her formerly white glove.

Her thoughts were fuzzy, barely coherent. Her eyes had trouble focusing. This was bad.

The screens surrounding her glowed again, and she shielded her eyes. Electric peals of laughter filled the empty city. There it was again. The teal-haired demon appeared, duplicated among all the nearby screens. It bore its awful, digital fangs at the prone magical girl.

And for the first time in years, someone spoke to her in her native tongue.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Cardcaptor.”