(EqG) Spider-Shimmer: A Warm Christmas (short one -shot)

A/N: This has no connection with any other Spider-Shimmer story. It stands on its own. Enjoy.

>I sat on the snowy rooftop of an old pharmacy, shivering under the thin layer of spandex as night fell with tiny flakes of snow.
>I hate the cold, really. I used to never get cold, even in the coldest conditions.
>My blood was always hot and boiling with life and fire that made me passionate about many things.
>Too many things.
>Things that I regret doing.
>Things that were wrong of me.
>I was hot--I was on /fire/.
>But scorching hot is different from warm and embracing.
>I wish I knew that back then.
>Would’ve made things a lot easier than they are now, that’s for sure.
>I sigh, the fog expelling from my masked mouth into the frosty air.
>Ever since I changed my ways, that life, that fire, had been dormant, it’s smoldering remains stagnant and forgotten.
>My blood was still like I was once a rapid river of feelings now turned into a little tranquil stream of politeness.
>It’s one of the things I’m the guiltiest about.
>That as much as I’m glad I’m no longer the “old me”, I still miss that power, that thrill...and that rush.
>It kept me fiery; I took no nonsense, and things like “cold” were just a trifle.
>When I was mean, when I was ruthless--I was truly powerful.
>“And irresponsible,” says a little voice in my head.
>And it’s right. It’s always right.
>I was powerful, but that’s not an excuse to be irresponsible and as ruthless as I was, much unlike the woman I am now.
>I got to have responsibilities to balance out the things I’m capable of, but still...I’m freezing out here, and this little coat over my spandex just ain’t cuttin’ it.
>The sirens several blocks away go off, and I’m reminded that Christmas Eve doesn’t mean everyone goes to sleep, more specifically the “naughty” children.
>I sigh, standing up from the rooftop’s edge and shake my body out to increase my blood flow.
>Satisfied, I leap, shooting a line of web with a thwip.
>Time for work.

Later…

>I hop onto the police car, and my heart beats fast thanks to the rush of web-slinging as my slightly warmed up body prepares itself for anything.
>My spider-sense helps me have a better understanding of my surroundings, knowing what’s where, what’s happening, and anything that could be hazardous.
>Thanks to this, I have a slightly better understanding of what’s going on here.
>The police car I’ve hopped on; its officers just let out a gasp from under the hood.
>The sidewalks are also empty tonight, and there's a car ahead of us going way too fast.
>Must be a getaway.
>I see it.
>Honda Accord, gray, barreling down the street like a runaway stagecoach.
>I thank the Moon of Equestria that it’s Christmas Eve tonight and that humans spend the night off at home because if the roads were as busy as they usually are, an accident would surely have happened by now.
>Doesn’t mean one won’t, though.
>So, car’s going crazy fast, I’m clinging to this police car chasing it; so what do I do?
>I jump off of it, launching another line of webbing that I sling on.
>I should see what’s up with the gray Honda Accord.
>Spider-sense will warn me if something bad happens.
>I continue to sling overhead, following the car.
>I /could/ run after it, considering how fast I’m capable of sprinting, but this overhead view along with my spider-sense’s ability to help me understand my surroundings adds a bonus amount of assistance, giving it more to observe and comprehend.
>With a few minutes, I know the surrounds even better than my old bedroom back in Celestia’s castle.
>Wait.
>Hold up.
>Spider-sense is going all weird on me--trying to inform me of something else.
>Huh.
>That’s strange.
>The speeding car isn’t taking any turns that are closest to it, nor any sporadic ones to throw off the police.
>No, no they’re waiting for the “correct” turn.

>They’re not trying to run away, they’re trying to go somewhere, but where?
>What for?
>I swing myself down a bit lower, about a mere twenty or so feet above the street itself.
>When I’m close enough, I hop onto their hood.
>They’re going fast.
>Wherever these folks are off to, they’re in one hell of a hurry.
>I need to see what the drivers are doing.
>I lean my head to the right side of the car, staring through the window of the passenger seat, knocking on the window with a little wave.
>To my surprise, I don’t see two armed dorks in ill-fitting ski mask…
>…I see two average people: the driver a male with jet black hair in a panicked frenzy, and in the passenger seat a…
>Oh.
>Oh come on…
>A woman--a pregnant woman--screams loudly, shrieking bloody murder as she clutches her stomach.
>She’s in labor.
>I the dread drop into the pit of my stomach.
>You have /got/ to be kidding me.
>I want to back out now; I’m not equipped to deal with this.
>If I were to mess up this situation, it wouldn’t just be bad, it’d be unforgivable.
>I don’t know what to do.
>Should I intervene?
>I don’t know!
>My body screams at me to run, jump, sprint away from this madness before it gets any worse than it can be, but my conscious scolds me to stay and do what’s right, despite logic forbidding it.
>Oh jeez, oh jeez…
>What’s more responsible?
>…
>I knock on the passenger window again, and as the woman looks at me, she screams more.
>The man, I’m assuming he’s her husband, glances over, his eyes widening even more.
>Wasn’t expecting me of all things tonight, I bet.
>I urge him to put the window down, and dumbstruck and frightened, he does so obligingly.
>“S-spider-Woman? You’re real!?”
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say quickly. I have no time to quip.
>“TOOOMMMY, OH GOD, OH GOD IT’S KICKING! IT’S KICKING!!”
>‘Tommy’ looks at me.

>“Uh, w-we’re trying to go to the hospital. The baby is not suppose to be ready yet, and the brakes are out! I don’t know what to do!”
>I look behind me, glancing at the following police car.
>Or cars!?
>Oh this is great!
>The police’s numbers are growing as apparently it’s gone from a small chase from one police vehicle after a runaway Honda up to a group of cops pursuing a car with it’s brakes broken with an early Christmas present waiting to kick out from mommy’s vagina.
>Sheesh.
>I look back at Tommy and speak.
“I’d stop the car for you if I could, but there're too many cars behind you now. I’m going to try and tell them what’s going on, alright? Maybe I can do something.”
>“But my wife’s about to--”
“I can get her to the hospital on time. How far is it by car?”
>“Fifteen minutes away, b-but you’re not fast enough to--”
“I am. Trust me. I’ll be right back, okay?”
>He nods nervously and I jump off the car with another line of web.
>I slow my swinging down so I can get behind the police cars, and when I see the leading one come nearest to me, I land on it gracefully.
>Again, I knock on the window.
>The driver gives an incredulous look at me and pulls it down.
>“What do you want wall-crawler?” he asks.
>Doesn’t seem to like a costumed character such as yourself on his hood.
“I don’t want anything--I just need help. Look, that driver’s brakes are broken, and his wife’s in premature labor. They’re trying to get to the hospital, but are freaking out.”

>“And why should I believe you? For all I know you’re in cahoots with one of ‘em,” he growls.
>“Uh, actually, Smit, she’s telling the truth,” his partner says. He brings up his phone’s GPS. “Look where we’ve been drivin’! All the turns they’ve made...they’re tryin’ to--”

“Get to the hospital, but can’t because their brakes are broken. See? Told ya. Now I can’t stop them with my web; the ice on the road is making their car skid all over, and by the time I’d stop, all your cars would crash into theirs. If we don’t do something it’s only a matter of time before more people get hurt and a baby gets a late abortion.”
>The driver frowns, reluctant to accept help from the likes of me.
>Despite this, however, he knows his options are low.
>“What do we do?”
“Get all your cars and wait at the end of this road. This street ends in 15 minutes. I’m going to get the mom out of the car and swing her to the hospital. I’ll be back in about five minutes to help stop the Accord before it crashes into you all. Then you get to ask your questions and all as momma gets to welcome junior to the world.”
>“Hnn…And if you mess up?”
“I won’t.”
>“You might.”
“Then I’ll turn myself in.”
>‘Smit’ nods, satisfied.
>He picks up his radio as I hop off the vehicle.
>I proceed lunging across the hoods of each police car till I leap to the Honda Accord once more, a plan set in my mind.
>Once again, I talk through the passenger seat’s window.
“Hey, so, uh, Tommy’s your name, right sir? Uh, we got a plan.”
>He sighs in relief.
>“Oh thank God…”
“That, unfortunately, does not mean it’s over. You’re gonna have to keep driving straight down this street, okay? I’ll take your lovely gal pal here to the hospital for ya. The cops are gonna be at the end of this street by the time you get there, and I’ll be back in time to stop the car. Meanwhile, your little wifey here’ll be delivering. Got it?”
“TOMMY, DON’T YOU DARE!” screams his wife.
>Her husband, however, seems to weigh his options.
>“Fuck…Yeah. Yeah, good as anything I guess.”
>“TOMMY! NO!”
“Good. Now I’m gonna open this here door and…”

>The wife screams loudly, flailing in hysteria as I pick her up carefully by her side.
>I give Tommy a look.
>He seemingly reads it through my mask.
“She’s gonna be fine. I promise. You both will.”
>“Do your stuff, Spidey.”
>I salute him, swinging on a line of webbing as the soon-to-be mother howls, the cold air blowing against both of us.
>Her squirming and flailing proves to not be the most helpful.
>In fact, it's messing my direction and positioning up, not to mention her center of gravity is a tad different that what would be normal.
>She sends my swings into odd shapes, misdirecting me.
>It’s making the speed at which I go at dangerous.
>I have to slow down--hell, I could get us killed if I don’t slow down…but I can’t slow down.
>If I do, I risk everything.
>She needs to calm down before I get us both killed!
>I got to get us down.
>I search for a rooftop and thank Luna’s Moon--my Luna, of course--when I do, landing carefully and making sure the impact isn’t dangerous for my “passenger”.
>I’m hoping that by running across the snow-covered roofs of shorter buildings, then leap to another, I can still make a timely arrival.
>If only it were that simple.
>The wife’s panicked state is /still/ messing my whole balance up.
>I have to get her under control.
>I keep running and leaping, but now, I try to talk to her…try to relax her…
“Ma’am? Ma’am, what’s your name?”
>“OOOOOH! OOOH NO! AUGH! GOD! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”
“Well, that’s a nice name…”
>“FUUUCK YOOOUU!!!”
“Um, I’m gonna need you to stop squirming Miss. Uh, if you do anymore, I might slip and, like, crack our…necks…open. You know. Yeah.”
>“WHAT?!”
“Er, just relax, please. We’re almost there. Just need you to hold still.”
>“I’M HAVING A FUCKING BABY YOU GODDAMNED CUNT!”
“Oy.”
>This is tough.
>I persist in my efforts.
“Um, okay, do you have a name? I saw your hubby, I heard his name “Tommy” but, uh, yours?”

>She tries to get a grip, and considering the fact that a little brat is having a freak-out inside of her uterus, I’m impressed she’s capable of doing so.
>“S-sarah…” she says through gritted teeth with strange breaths. “M-my name’s Sarah…”
“Huh. Nice name. Well, ‘Sarah’, I, uh, need you to be careful, okay? We’re almost there, you can totally make it, alright?”
>“AUUGH! HURRY! PLEASE!”
>And we’re back to screaming again.
>Joy.
>As she screams, I continue running across the rooftops, appreciating her attempt at being still, but still fight to keep balance as I leap.
>She holds onto my arms in a tight grip, her nails digging through my costume and piercing my skin.
>I bite my chilled, blue lips as I try to ignore it.
>Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.
>Almost there, just another minute, please!
>“WAIT! STOOOOOOP!”
>I skid to a halt on the roof, the hospital just three more leaps away and it’s gigantic tower staring down at us.
>I look at her, and I fear the worst is about to come.
>“I…”
>Please don’t say it.
>“I THINK IT’S--”
>Don’t you dare.
>“THE BABY’S COOOOOOMING!”
>Why me?
>I place her down quickly, hoping I don’t enter a blind panic, not really knowing that I already am in one.
“Uh, uuuuhh, what do I do? I don’t know what to do!”
>“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO!? YOU’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!?”
“Yes--I mean, no! I haven’t! I just--”
>“AAAAUUUUGH! SHIT SHIT SHIT IT’S COMING! OHMIGODOHMIGOD…”
>I shouldn’t have done this.
>I really, really, really shouldn’t have done this.
>I’m just a kid for the Sun’s sake, I can’t deliver a baby!
>I could just swing away and--NO.
>No, Sunset, you are NOT swinging away.
>You have to do this and you have to do it now.
“Um, okay, do you know your breathing exercises? Um, d-do those. Alright, I’ll try and do this.”
>“AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”
>She goes into a mixed state of screams and huffs.

>With my cold, numb hands, I fumble my fingers as I help take her pants off.
>I feel so wrong for doing this as I spread her legs apart and rest them on my shoulder, her clothed back resting on the snowy ground of the roof giving an extra sting to what awful pain she’s experiencing.
“Alright, uh, push, okay!? I need you to push!”
>“UUUUNNGGHHH…”
>She huffs.
>“AAAUUUUUUGGGHHH…”
>She puffs.
>“OHMIGODOHMIGOOOOAAAAAAUUUUUUU---”
>And the only the head sticks out.
>It’s slimy.
>Nasty.
>Gross, even.
>Now…I have something to admit.
>I…well, I never knew what human birth looked like.
>I knew how sex itself worked, though, but I never felt the need to exactly witness or learn about birth here unless I were to, I dunno, get my freak on and have a happy little accident in my uterus.
>But have gotten my freak on?
>Well, with /him/, sure, but that’s not relevant at the moment.
>What is, however, is that I’m not sure of what the fuck to do.
>If I were a pony, and she one as well, then yeah, I’d know exactly what to do since I went to the School for Gifted Unicorn’s emergency help-course.
>This is different, though.
>A lot different.
>And here I am, delivering a human baby.
>It’s disgusting and horrifying at the same time, much like it is for a pony--but it’s weirder doing this with a human.
>In fact, whoever the fuck said this shit was beautiful must’ve been sick or something.
>Anyways, she screams more, I tell her to push more, and I’m scared.
>From what little I’ve heard about human birth. it’s not only one of the most painful experiences imaginable, but it can take, like, forever.
>Like, anywhere from nine hours to nine minutes.
>I barely have fifteen minutes before a possible father dies in an accident with several lined up police cars while I deliver what might be a late abortion.
>I thought I could do this, but I thought wrong.
>I sigh and ask myself what to do.

>The answer I get is another question: “what’s most responsible?”
>I make up my mind.
“Sarah, I’m going to take you to the hospital.”
>“NO! NO DON’T YOU DARE!”
“SARAH, IT’S ONLY THREE ROOFS AWAY, IT’LL BE LESS THAN A MINUTE!”
>I scoop her up, not even giving her a chance to put her pants back on. I shoot web at them and bring 'em to me.
>Now with both mother, child, and pants, I make a dash for the hospital.
>One roof, leap.
>Another roof, leap.
>Third roof, and a leap against the side of the hospital building, and I leap to the ground, surviving the thirty-foot drop thanks to my proportionate strength.
>The entrance of the building stares at me like the pearly gates, and I’m relieved to see a group of nurses run over.
>I lay Sarah down.
“Premature birth, can’t talk, gotta go!”
>I swing away praying that I haven’t killed the future of a happy family.

---

>I swing back over to the street.
>The Honda Accord is still out of control, and while there are no pursuing vehicles chasing it, I can still see the end of the road in the distance, my spider-sense picking up that they’re holding a line of cars waiting, just as I’d told them to do.
>I swing down from my height of the roofs, slinging my way along the street.
>As my last rope of webbing starts to loosen upon the end of my swing, I time myself just right to land far in front of the charging vehicle.
>It’s black form grows as it accelerates towards me, and the smoking exhaust puffs out like fire.
>It’s a mad bull coming after me.
“Knew I should’ve made that left turn at Albuquerque,” I mumble to myself.
>My spider-sense gives me a good idea of how long I have to stop the car.
>It’s only increasing in speed, but it’s still gonna take a minute, probably a bit less, to hit me.
>With the police cars behind my back in a line instead of chasing behind the Accord, there are no cars able to smash into the back of the oncoming vehicle.

>Finally, I can end this.
>The first thing I do scan my surroundings.
>I know, I mention it often but it truly is necessary to know your environment so you can use it to your advantage, trust me.
>The buildings here are closed for the night, some streetlights are on, several planted more firmly on the ground than others, and the road is clear.
>With this information, I form my plan knowing I have plenty of space to work with.
>I spread my arms out, firing two, thick strands of gooey web that solidifies into what is essentially webbed-up concrete.
>The strand I fire to the right hits the street-light.
>It’s a new one--I can tell by the abnormal tightness of the bolts that plant it to the ground.
>The left strand hits the brick of a sturdy building, it’s brick mortar stronger than the structures around it, despite being decades old I assume.
>I’m not done yet, though.
>I have to make a fence--a wall--to capture the car without it tearing through my webbing.
>This is easy.
>After all, a pencil lead thick strand of spider silk can stop a Boeing 727 mid-flight without tearing.
>I, on the other hand, have much more webbing.
>The problem isn’t that my web could not stop it due to a lack of strength of the webbing itself...
>It’s finding the /safest/ way to stop it.
>I could have just yanked his car back with one large web-rope from the rear, but that would probably tear off part of his car, and he’d be flung so hard, his seat-belt would tear as he flies out the window.
>This net is the smartest, safest, and most foolproof way I can be sure to save him.
>After fifteen seconds, I’ve completed it and the car comes a-running towards me.
>I see Tommy’s eyes as the car approaches.
>He sees the web--questions its strength and stability.
>I notice several policemen in their own cars twitch nervously.
>Then, it happens.
>The car hits the gigantic web, its tires still running but the car un-moving.

>It’s caught like a fly in a spider’s web.
>A collective sigh of relief seemingly permeates the winter air as Tommy steps out.
>He falls on his knees, exhausted. I help him up.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
>He ignores the question.
>“How’s Sarah?”
“I almost had to deliver on a roof, but, uh, I got her there. She’ll be okay.”
>His shoulders drop, and he hugs me.
>“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
>…
>“FREEZE! HANDS OFF THE MAN! SIR, STEP AWAY FROM HER RIGHT NOW!”
>I turn around and face the wall of police cars.
>Every officer holds up a gun, aiming at me.
>I’m livid.
“What the hell are you doing!?”
>It’s then a familiar officer walks out of his car, drawing his gun from its holster.
>It’s officer Smit.
>He sneers.
>“We’re taking you in.”
>You’re shocked--outraged!
“But I did it! WE did it! No one got hurt, we saved the day!”
>“And you’re still a criminal,” he states firmly. “We take criminals in.”
“B-but…I helped…”
>I feel my knees grow weak.
>I collapse on them.
“I h-helped…” I repeat, this time more quietly.
>My throat starts to shut and my eyes start to water.
>I did everything well tonight.
>Everything.
>And what was damaged?
>Nothing.
>Tonight I proved I was responsible.
>Nothing was destroyed.
>Ye here I am, getting arrested.
>Then, I notice something.
>I feel cold.
>Even colder than I have for the entirety of the night.
>That’s when I realize it.
>The flame inside me--that fire and passion I was talking about earlier?
>I thought it went away, but did it really?
>Did that passion really become snuffed the moment I became who I am now?
>A better person?
>I thought I grew colder on the inside because it was gone, but…maybe it never left.
>Maybe it just changed?
>Yeah, that’s it.
>I changed my passion.
>I was awful, evil, and bitter.
>But now?
>I save the fucking day.
>Tommy places a hand on my shoulder.

>“Hey, it’s okay,” he says comfortingly.
>Officer Smit sneers.
>“Not in court, it ain’t.”
>“Oh shut the fuck up! The hell’s wrong with you! She practically did your job and MORE. My baby could’ve just been born in a car accident, and you fucks were chasing me down! The fuck is up with that!? And now? Now you’re just gonna arrest her!?” Tommy shouts angrily.
>“She’s a vigilante. She’s a criminal.”
>“A CRIMINAL!? ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?”
>He shakes his head.
>“DO YOU SEE ANY DAMAGE!? IS ANYONE HURT!? NO! SO LEAVE. HER. BE.”
>“Look, we can’t just--”
>“IT’S CHRISTMAS FOR FUCK’S SAKE, GIVE HER A FUCKING BREAK!” barks Tommy.
>He sighs, turning towards me.
>Then, he gets out his wallet.
>“Look, I don’t care what they say, but you’ve saved my wife, my kid…and you saved my future tonight. Hell, you even saved my car from crashing. Take this. Spend some time with a friend. Something.”
>In his hand reaching towards me is a one hundred dollar bill.
>I look at it.
>I deserve it.
>I should snatch that money up like it’s the last water I’ll ever have…
>But I don’t.
“N-no. I can’t.”
>I sniffle, shaking my head to decline his largesse offer.
“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” I say hoarsely. “You and Sarah have a good life.”
>Next thing I know, I’m swinging away…
>I’m swinging home…

EPILOGUE

>I knock on the second story window of the suburban house, peeking through the blinds into the lit room.
>I see Anon in there notice my knocking, and he approaches me, opening up the window to allow an entrance.
“Hey.”
>“You sound tired.”
“…I should. I almost delivered a…nevermind.”
>“No, you can tell me. I wanna hear.”
“Okay… I’ll tell ya in the morning.”
>I try to walk, but exhaustion fights me from doing so properly.
“Hey, you think you can--”
>“I gotcha,” he says with a warm smile.
>He picks me up bridal style.
>I chuckle wearily.
“You know, holding me by the shoulder as I walk slowly would’ve done fine enough.”
>“I know, and I’d do that normally…but uh, I got something for you.”
“Oh?” I question curiously.
>He cautiously seats me down atop our bed.
“Lemme guess, a ‘tactical whoopie cushion again?”
>“Don’t act like you didn’t love the tactical whoopie cushion,” Anon says. “And Sunset? I, ah, gotta ask ya something,” he asks nervously.
>What’s he doing?
“Yeah? What’s up? You okay?”
>“Yeah, i-it’s just…” he sinks down onto one knee, slowly reaches for his back pocket, and finally, kneeling on the bedside, he smiles the biggest, goofiest smile with his cheeks a rosy red.
>He retrieves a small box and…
“Oh my gosh.”
>“Sunset Shimmer…
“Oh my gosh…”
>“…Will you marry me?”
>Right as Anon opens the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring inside, my heart beats faster than it’s ever beat in it’s life.
>That warm fiery passion returns like a full-fledged flame, and…I sob.
>I sob more than I’ve sobbed before.
>And finally, for the first time in all of tonight, I take my mask off, crying with a gigantic smile across my jaded face.
>My chest tightens as I sob, tears running freely down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and into the lap of my costumed legs.

>Everything tonight lead to this moment. My emotions all burst forth at once with one, single word.
“Yes.”
>And then, with a kiss, we laid ourselves down, holding the other in our arms...

THE
END