Striker's attention was drawn away from the group of chatting ponies by a shout from the newcomers that Vita had noticed. The yelling came from a stallion with a similar color scheme to his own, although Striker hoped the resemblance ended there. He would never act nearly as arrogant as that Orion character, no matter how famous he ever became - at least, he hoped he wouldn't. Striker attempted to keep his feelings of disgust to himself, though, recognizing Orion as one of the famous competitors at the tourney who had the most complex special effects, and he wasn't about to let personal opinions get in the way of doing a good job.

Striker stood facing the general direction of the speaker, without paying any particular attention to what was being said. From his years at the university, Striker had mastered the art of just picking up the information relevant to him out of speeches while only appearing to listen to the rest. His ears twitched at the mention of "rich," and he wondered for a moment how much he would be paid for filling in for the special effects leader. Well, Professor Sparks had probably worked it out with whoever called him. Probably. The professor sometimes forgot about details like bits and food and sleep, since they were so much less exciting compared to pyrotechnics. The rest of the information was aimed at the competitors, and Striker didn't tune in again until near the end, when Harr talked about putting on a good show. That's why I'm here, he thought to himself, smiling, providing entertainment.

"Alright, I should get back to my special effects team now," Striker said, returning his attention to the group after the speaker finished. "Good luck, Mesa, Kite; I'll be cheering for you! And Vita, here's to hoping me and you keep everything moving smoothly behind the scenes while the warriors fight it out!"

"Yeah, Professor Sparks was hoping I'd get some experience and connections running the special effects here, although honestly, I've been more involved with making sure safety regulations are met than anything else." Privately, Striker hoped that his involvement in the tourney would give him a boost when he finally applied for his dream job of working on special effects for DJ P0N-3's concerts, but that was too far in the future for him to be spending time seriously thinking about. He'd have to earn his license first, and make sure this tournament went well before that.

"Ponyville? Hey, my twin sister just moved there recently!" Striker said to Mesa excitedly. "She looks a lot like me, well, except for the fact that she's a mare. You probably haven't met her though, she's only been in Ponyville for a week or so." He turned to Kite. "Which is related to your question, actually. I visited Ponyville for a bit recently, to check up on my sister. I've also been to Manehattan a couple of times on vacation." Striker's left ear twitched in amusement at Mesa's comment about Canterlot being loud. "Loud? I'm a fireworks pony; love loud. I think Canterlot's great for all the big concerts and events and famous ponies we get here. Although I could do without all the stuffy nobles," Striker said, not for the first time forgetting to keep such opinions to himself in front of ponies he hardly knew. Belatedly, he remembered that many ponies of nobility were trained in the art of combat, so there were probably several with in earshot. "Ah, I mean, no offense intended to said nobles," he stammered, face flushing.

Striker was slightly taken aback by Honey's minimal response, but he guessed that she might not want to talk about Samareai, so he decided not to pursue the subject further. He watched Sero disappear into the crowd, then turned back to the rest of the group. "Plenty of flashy fireworks, if that's what you like," Striker said to Kite, grinning. "Which I do, anyway. I didn't design the show, but the pony who did must have had some really crazy ideas. To tell the truth, I'm a little bit nervous about pulling it off, but it should be alright." Striker looked over the gathering crowd of fighters, wondering if any of the more famous ones he'd read about in the special effects notes were milling about, or if, more likely, they had separate preparation areas in the arena. "So, Samareai titles aside, any of you have any claims to fame?" Striker asked.

Striker felt much more relieved after meeting with the rest of the special effects crew. They seemed like a competent group of ponies, and were familiar with the fireworks and other equipment being used, so Striker didn't expect too many problems. Still, he felt the restless sense of nervousness that accompanies waiting to do something for the first time. While all the other members of the crew look relaxed, even bored, about another day of their job, Striker was practically prancing in place to try and distract himself. Realizing that he would drive himself crazy just standing around waiting for the show, Striker decided to find something else to do. He could probably chat with somepony or watch a few of the preliminary matches before he was actually needed. After making one last check that the storage room was safely organized, he walked out to join the shifting crowd gathered at the arena.

He spotted a group of four ponies, two unicorns and two pegasi, in a waiting area for the combatants. Three had weapons with them, but the fourth appeared to only have a book. "Hi, I'm Striker," he introduced himself as he approached. "How are you all liking the tourney so far?"

Striker woke up in his dorm at the university in Canterlot, prepared to start his typical morning routine: breakfast and washing up before a day filled with magic theory, research, and practice. Striker loved studying to be a pyrotechnician, but truth to be told, the same old thing every day was beginning to wear him out. Even explosions can get boring, after trying for hours on end in the same room to perfect one particular type. But he stuck it out, knowing that the intense magical training would pay off when he could get a job working with special effects.

Striker's breakfast was interrupted by a knock on his door and somepony calling, "Hello, Striker?"

"Just a minute," he replied, and trotted over to open the door. His mentor, Professor Sparklerspun, called simply Sparks by his longtime students, stood outside the door. "What is it?" Striker asked. It was unusual for his teacher to come looking for him this early in the morning, before any classes had started.

"I received a call from Marigold this morning, asking for a replacement for their special effects pony for a tourney they're running in Canterlot. I told them I knew just the stallion for the job," Sparks said.

"Who, me?" Striker said, shocked by the suddenness of the news. "What happened to their guy?"

"Yes, you, do you know anyone else studying advanced pyrotechnics in this university?" Sparks replied sarcastically. "As for the original special effects leader, don't know, didn't ask. Now get moving, the tourney's starting today."

Striker closed the door to his dorm behind him as his mentor shooed him out and into the hallway, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on the table. "Can't you do it? You're more experienced, after all. I'm not even officially licensed yet!"

"I've got a lab to run for the first-years today, and they'll probably set themselves on fire if I give someone else the job of looking after them." Striker winced, remembering a particular lab mishap that had ended with half of his hair burnt off and Professor Sparks vowing never to let him near a Bunsen burner again. Sparks had obviously broken that vow, but since then, Striker had kept his hair cut much shorter. "Besides, lack of experience is exactly why you are going - you'll get more of it. As for licenses, you're not designing anything, just making sure nopony blows themselves up. Less talking, more moving!"

"Alright, I'll do it," Striker said, accepting that Sparks wouldn't change his mind. "Where's this tourney at?"

"That's what I like to hear! It's down by that old arena, south of campus. Can't miss it. Good luck, have fun, don't let anything explode where or when it shouldn't," said Sparks, already moving away from Striker, back towards the university's main building.

Striker ran like mad towards the arena, only slowing to a trot after several nobles had glanced at him disdainfully. When he arrived at the location of the tourney, small crowds had already begun to form. He spotted a pair of working ponies carrying a box with explosives warning labels and followed them into a side building. "Hi, I'm Striker, the replacement... What are you doing?" Striker stood in the entrance of the building, horrified by the sight of room that violated nearly every safety precaution he knew of, and probably several others he didn't. "You can't just stack them up like that! If one was lit by accident, this whole room would explode! And half of these containers aren't even sealed properly..."

By the time Striker had finished sorting out the mess of the storage room, he at least agreed with Sparks that he was qualified for the job. Most of the workers didn't seem to know the first thing about fireworks, although they did what he asked them too quickly and efficiently. Once he was reasonably sure that a stray spark of static electricity wouldn't set off enough explosive force to send them all to the moon, Striker found the original special effects pony's notes and began to study them. As he read through the tourney's program, his eyes grew wider and wider. He hoped that the special effects team he would be leading was well trained, and that somepony knew how to operate a fog machine, because if not, the show would be a disaster waiting to happen.

Striker heard his name and nearly stuck his head out from behind his cover to locate where the voice was coming from. Fortunately, he was prevented from making this disastrous mistake when a loud hiss and thick cloud of smoke filled the street. Striker briefly recoiled, and a bolt of green magic based right in front of his nose, just where his he had been about to move his head. He needed to be more careful. "Foxtrot? Golden? Ironfire?" Striker called. He could hear ponies moving somewhere farther down the street, but he wasn't sure where. Taking advantage of the cover the smoke provided, he dashed back into the street. He saw a few magical blasts go by, lighting up the smoke with an eeire green glow, but none hit anywhere near him. The enemy must have been shooting in the dark. Striker checked the alleys that he passed, but they were all empty. The cover began to dissipate, and Striker's efforts grew more frantic. He would have to get to cover soon, whether or not he found the others. When Striker could begin to make out the clock tower through the fog, he gave up the search and dashed back into a side street, flattening himself against the wall to avoid being seen. As the smoke cleared further, Striker could make out two ponies on the other side of the street, huddled behind a staircase. Foxtrot and Golden looked to have taken much more direct hits than him. "Hey! Are you two okay?" Striker called across the street as loud as he dared.

Striker caught the stun gun with a levitation spell and kept it in front of him as the group began moving. He looked around anxiously at Foxtrot's warning. Canterlot looked completely different without the usual passersby filling the streets, almost like another town altogether. He could see other ponies moving around in the distance father down the streets, but he had no idea if they were changelings or not. The air all around them was filled with an infernal buzzing sound, seemingly created by the changelings themselves.

When yet another changeling plummeted to the ground behind them, Striker turned around and took the opportunity to test his new weapon. He took aim at the changeling and pulled the trigger with his magic. A ray of energy shot out towards the creature, which ducked and avoided the blast. Before Striker could take aim again, it scampered out of sight. "Missed that one," Striker muttered, but he turned back around to continue following the group. If they chased down every changeling they saw, they would never make it to the castle.

Striker trotted over to the other two unicorns, noting in relief that they were unharmed by his magically-induced explosion. He was about to ask the mare they'd saved for her name, but he was interrupted by another crash. A light gray unicorn landed in the middle of the street, followed by a large hammer. Striker winced, glad that the stallion had been wearing a helmet. Foxtrot seemed alright with the new arrival, so Striker assumed that he wasn't a changeling.

"Are you okay? And where did you come from?" Striker asked, hoping his blast hadn't somehow caused the unicorn's flight. Striker stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out why the pony seemed vaguely familiar. "Oh, I've heard of you. You're Ironfire, right? Run a forge in Canterlot? My dad's a blacksmith too, he talks about you sometimes, says you're competition. Which is a compliment," Striker added hurriedly, hoping he hadn't offended Ironfire, "Since only considers good blacksmiths competition. I'm Striker, this is Foxtrot, and..." He turned to the brown mare. "Sorry, what's your name?"