Dark Matter blinks against the sweat from the effort of maintaining the illusion... or was it sauce? No matter, either one getting in his eye would hurt. Possibly like the proverbial Dickens.

His concentration lapses, though, when he sees a pegasus fly forth heroically from the wreckage of the building, brandishing a... something... weapon of some sort... that glints in the sun. He seemed to be taunting the beast, although Dark couldn't hear what he was saying; something incredibly awesome and dramatic, no doubt. What a cool pegasus.

The neglected illusion quickly dissolves into thin air without any focus on it, granting apparent victory to the Calzolem (working title, he'll come up with a better name for it later).

Dark Matter turns to check on the unicorn mare who had run to the building for some reason to find that she'd found a friend and was heading towards him now. Satisfied that she was probably safe now, he turned to leave... until he remembered the pegasus. He couldn't let that guy have the spotlight all to himself.

He blows out of the corner of his mouth to dislodge a tomato chunk; he didn't exactly cut a terribly heroic figure covered in this stuff. Alas, there's no time to do anything about it now.

He nods to the approaching mare(s). "You ladies had best make yourselves scarce. This could get-" He sets his hooves and begins charging a spell. "-messy."

He even manages not to chuckle.

Dark Matter recovers from his daze in time to see imminent watery demise coming towards him. Reacting... we'll call it quickly to spare his feelings... he manages to send out a reflexive burst of magic from his horn, dispersing the water streams into a fine mist, which proves to be surprisingly refreshing after all the excitement so far. He doesn't have time to enjoy it, though, because the mouseseseseseses keep up their assault. He dashes to the side, slipping a bit on the newly slicked floor, and picks up his frying pike with his magic.

Not terribly optimistic about his chances alone against the droids, he looks around for possible allies. There was the unconscious stallion and the one with the wand. They look like they could use some help. Then again, it looks like Supermare could use some impressing help of her own.

He poses heroically and says in a heroic voice: "Stop, in the na-" but is stopped by a jet of water. Thoroughly irritated now, he spits and gives up the dramatics in favor of a sustained shout as he runs and attempts to use his polearm to polevault up closer to the platform whereon the Superdamsel in Distress was locked in combat with the metal bird thing. He didn't achieve much lift, and was thrown drastically to the side, but in the end it worked out because he landed on the pad of what seemed to be some sort of giant pancake-flipper which catapulted him directly up where he wanted to go.

He would have rather landed on his hooves than his back, and he's most certain he'll be unhappy about dropping his pan, but I guess he can't have everything he wants.

Dark Matter instinctively ducks as the power flashed from the machine, his eyes more used to the gentle glow of starlight than this tacky bright flash that makes everything an ugly shade of white for a moment, accompanied by a rather loud thunderclap that is just too much for his poor, sensitive ears. Blinded and deafened, he figues he must be dead for a moment when the anesthetic gas hits him because he can hardly feel his limbs. In a fit of panic, he begins randomly flailing about, right into the pack of scurry, vicious droids chasing him.

He completely fails to notice as his violent flailing allows him to dodge all harm from them while not allowing them the same privilege, and the entire pack of mouseseseseseseses around him is a pile of sparking wreckage littered with silly string, confetti, assorted robo-faces, and thirteen pounds of cottage cheese before he regains his senses.

He stands dumbfounded for a moment, wondering what happened to the robo-beasts.

Dark Matter's vision swims as a spray of silly peanut brittle string shoots into his left nostril, causing him to sneeze mightily enough to take the droid in front of him out of commission. His joy is short-lived, though, as his forehooves are punched out from under him and he falls just in time for a net to wrap around him, pinning them to his chest. Almost panicking, but not quite, he conjures a large hemisphere of darkness, completely plunging the swarm around him into darkness. A few seconds later, the darkness fades but the guard pony is nowhere to be seen. The robo-mouseseses mill in confusion for a moment, then go elsewhere to find a new target.

The last one to get moving seems... off, somehow, a bit fat and bloated, and moving rather strangely. Its fisty-glove stick also seems to be broken, sticking out at an odd angle and not retracting.

Dark Matter heaves a quiet sigh of relief as his disguise illusion seems to be working. He scoots forward, simultaneously working at the spontaneous knots that seem to have spawned in the devilish net trapping his legs as he searches for a way to get to the controls for the cannon.

Patrol Officer Dark Matter shivered against a seemingly random breeze as it tore through the night. He wished the armor provided just a little bit more cover. His storyteller senses tingled; that breeze was just enough to send a villain's cape billowing! There must be crime afoot!

He peered around suspiciously. He was alone tonight; his partner had caught a cold (which he blamed on the weather) and opted to stay home. Regulation stated that he should take another officer, but he didn't care. More exciting things happen when you're on your own, that's basic drama FACT, and nopony will know if you just decide to take a short break.

Seeing nothing overtly villainous in the immediate vicinity, he decided to follow his instincts, which said... This way! He began galloping in the direction his instincts said before he begins hearing the rumblings of a no-doubt evil machine. In the completely opposite direction. Cursing under his breath, he wheeled about, tripping over his regulation pike as he did so. He did really hate the thing; heroes had swords, or knives, or hoofblades, or what have you, while the spear was for no-name soldiers who did nothing but bungle everything up and possibly get saved. He'd have to remember to have another talk with his commander about that.

He galloped on, into a district of mostly uninhabited buildings in various states of decrepitness. Near the center, he could see blue flashes from some unknown source, probably eldritch, sinister, or some mix of the two. Whatever the source, it appeared to be hidden behind the walls of the building in front of him, which in turn appeared to have some sort of huge... pole sticking out of it? Almost like...

A cannon!

From the inside, he could swear he could hear a villainous cackle even above the machinery. He slowed, feeling a little apprehensive. That's a pretty evil pony if their laugh is louder than their doomsday devices.

He decided not to follow proper protocol, and instead just barge in uninvited and unannounced. Heroes don't say they're there to stop the villain until they can actually see them, after all, and they most certainly don't ask permission. He does more or less regret making his entrance so hasty, though, as he tripped over the entranceway, unknowingly dodging a barrage of marbles shooting over his head by one of the dastardly devices guarding the lair. He stood up in time, however, to catch a wave of what seemed to be mostly pots and pans coming from where the marbles shot, the tide of cookery pulling him deeper into the workshop.

He hopes this isn't loud enough for the dastardly villain to hear. Heroes are heralded by their own heroic decree of challenge, not by the dishes their mothers couldn't get them to clean.

Dark Matter is taken aback when he feels, then sees the cloak on his back, but he decides not to question it. The world is so much a nicer place when ponies do nice things for each other. "As long as you do as well."

He has a nagging feeling that he's forgetting something, but he shrugs it off as he canters off, a spring in his step.

Dark Matter's eyes widen in mock surprise. "Really? I suppose in hindsight I did detect an air of elegance there that couldn't have come from anypony else in town that I know of. As for the grey filly..." He shakes his head in dismay. "She may be an earth pony, but down-to-earth is not something I would use to describe her. She seemed rather put out, even, that somepony would do that. I think she even went so far as to swear revenge."

Dark Matter shrugs as she pulls away the black garment. "It did seem rather out of place there, I will admit."

He's taken aback when she asks about his cloak. He takes a glance at it in an attempt to discern what she means, and his eyes fill with surprise as he discovers his unintended alteration.

Huh. I guess I was looking at that cape a tad too closely.

"Um", he says, demonstrating once again his catlike conversational reflexes, " I don't recall having done so. If I did, it would likely be one of yours, and I suspect you would recognize it.

"Anyway", he says in an attempt to change the subject, "while your summer line is impressive, as you said, the season is indeed coming to a close. Did you have anything else perhaps on your autumn or winter racks I could peruse?"