Ripples: Reborn

by WinCamXP

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Tragedy, Adventure
Length: 3463

After years of civil war, Equestria fell under the rule of a dictatorship. One stallion, a pony whose body was not in his control, manages to escape. After seeing the world for what it has become, he makes it his goal to make a difference.

Long ago, the civilization known as Equestria plunged into a civil war. Ponies turned on their brethren in a mad struggle for power. When the war subsided, one company rose to power - Parasprite Technologies. The company was shrouded in secrecy, even some of the most elite guards had little to no knowledge of the innermost workings of the facility. Parasprite Technologies enslaved all of Equestria, pioneering in new forms of slavery and torture to build the ultimate empire. They went as far as creating slaves with no control of their own bodies - but all the mind of a normal pony. It was the ultimate torture.

One of these slaves, a unicorn stallion, escapes in ways not even he is aware of. After seeing Equestria for what it had become, his lifelong goal was to make the world a better place. Equestria had other intentions, presenting him with never-ending challenges, conspiracies, conflicts and the occasional craziness. It is up to him whether he keeps fighting for what is right, or if he collapses under the pressure of the harsh reality of the world.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-19 02:00:01 UTC

Keyframe

Chapter 1

KEYFRAME

“Life is full of surprises. Always changing, growing, expanding, life is never constant. If someone’s life remains the exact same, an unchanging routine day after day... it would destroy them.”

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a slave? The kinds of work you would be forced to do against your will, day after day? Have you ever seen slavery with your own eyes? As horrible as it already sounds, allow me to enlighten you about something much worse than crude and simple slavery. Something much deeper than a simple dictatorship, a pony driven mad with power. Let’s talk about the end of the world, and what happened afterwards. But let’s start with the aftermath - it’s more fun that way.

Much like you, I was once a foal. Young and helpless, brand-new to this terrible world we call home. Unlike the others, however, I was different. I was only given 24 hours with my mother, the only 24 hours of freedom I ever had. But it wasn’t so much for me as it was for her. I didn’t know her, other than the obvious fact she gave birth to me. But little did I know, I meant everything to her. I was the only glimmer of hope in the dark and depressing world she lived in.

After the far-too-short time had passed, they came. They came to take me away from the only mare I had ever known. I was one of those really, really unlucky ponies. More than just unlucky. The place I was headed was worse than death itself. I wasn’t alone, I had 66% of the population to join me. But it didn’t make any difference who I was with.

The foals from today’s Gathering were all tossed helplessly into the back of a cargo truck, with no concern for health or safety. The truck sped full-throttle through the neighborhood (if you could call it that), each of us tumbling around in the back. Sharp and careless turns hurled us against the walls and each other, severely injuring many of us. Somehow, I was unlucky enough to survive unscathed. When we arrived at the destination, sounds of screaming foals filled the truck - along with a very sickening amount of fresh blood.

Worker ponies stuffed us roughly into flimsy plastic bags, air holes had been poked in them to keep us alive - barely. The pony who had taken me acted as if I was some kind of vermin, poisonous to touch. Those of us who survived the terrible journey were placed on a bloody, unsanitary operation table. Three ponies dressed in lab coats began working on us. Without any medication or painkiller, scalpels sliced through our bodies and blood seeped from the incisions. The pain was unbearable for all of us. It seemed to last for an eternity, but after a long struggle of pain and agony, it was over.

But it was not the end. Oh no, it was much worse than the end. It was the prelude. The introduction to a story that would eat away at our souls for all of eternity. We were experiencing firsthand what torture is like. No, not just whipping, hanging, hot coals, none of that - that’s the foam dart guns of torture. We experienced real torture.

We were no longer an individual. We were now just pawns on their chessboard, each and every one of our moves controlled by the player of the game. The catch? There was no opponent. We were moved around on the chessboard as if the player was bored. Nothing to do except run around wherever the player wanted. And we ran to terrible places.

Remember what I said about slavery? This wasn’t slavery. As a slave, you can still move. You can talk, maybe even voice your opinion - it’s probably not a good idea, but you still can. We couldn’t. Each and every movement of our bodies was out of our control. Our legs moved without us, our eyes blinked only when they wanted them to. We ate, slept, moved, scratched or relieved ourselves only according to schedule. We couldn’t move anything, no matter how hard we tried. And believe me, we’ve tried.

It was the perfect way to get servants that would never falter. No rebellions, outbreaks, disagreements. Only complete submission and obedience, nothing more and nothing less. But it was worse than that.

Our minds were left alone. We could still see from our eyes, feel what we feel, hear what we hear. We could still think whatever thoughts we wanted. But what good was it to think if you couldn’t do?

You may ask how I remember in such vivid detail the first days of my miserable life. Well, they liked to play games. To make things even harder on us than they already were. We actually did get sleep...a little, just enough to keep us from collapsing from lack of nutrients in our starving bodies. But not only was it far too short, they hijacked our dreams. Don’t ask me how, but they recorded my first memories and set them to play back to me every single time I slept. One thing I don’t understand, however, is that they removed any memory of how my mother looked. She’s a blank figure in the memory, no discernable physical features. Almost a ghost, an empty void. But does it matter? It’s not like I’d ever see her again anyway...

I got used to it after a while. I knew what would happen, how exactly it would hurt, what to expect. Almost everything had become quite routine, not much could really affect me emotionally - not anymore. I was one of the older ones here, meaning I got to do the “fun” stuff. Most of it was no big deal: mining in the caves below the complex, working the indoor farms, simple manual labor such as moving boxes, that kind of thing. The kinds of things you’d expect from a slave.

There was really only one thing that still hurts me to this day. Something I did that hurt me then, hurts me now, and will hurt me for as long as I live. Apparently, a suspiciously large portion of the “free” population were “rebels”. I didn’t believe in freedom nor rebels. It was obvious enough there were much luckier ponies out there, but none were truly free. But under the shadow of such evil, who would dare show their face as a rebel?

It happened most days of my life, rarely did a day go by without this on the schedule. Our bodies marched themselves through the cramped and unsanitary hallways specifically built for us, heading down the worst path of all. Today was another one of those days. I marched upright as my hooves lifted from the ground in that oh-so-familiar pattern. My head was pointed straight forward, currently staring in the direction of a three-way intersection. My gaze turned to the right passageway, and my body followed shortly.

This building was as boring as buildings could get, or at least on the inside. There was hardly any decorations on the walls. Just plain white tiles. Not much to look at aside from the occasional crack. The same cracks I had seen almost every day greeted me during my journey through that hallway. I willed them to pass quicker, to get everything over with. They never obeyed.

A door entered my vision down the long hallway, my heart sinking in my chest. Yeah, we could feel that feeling. And we felt it far too much. The most horrible door I had ever known approached me with agonizingly slow speed, causing the second-worst feeling I had ever known to fill my soul. The worst would come very soon.

Eventually, the door swung open automatically. My body marched through the open doorway and into the most horrible room in the entire complex. An enclosed circular dome expanded around me, a trap door mechanism installed in the very center of the room. A metallic walkway extended from the door which I came to the edge of the trapdoor. The platform at which it ended showcased a small control panel, complete with microphone and giant red levers. Suspended directly above the trapdoor was a barred cage, hanging precariously from the ceiling.

A lavender, blue-maned mare stared at me from inside the cage. Her hair was tangled into a chaotic mess, multiple scars covering her face. A ring of raw flesh was visible around her neck, where a rope had been tied. But the physical appearance was of no importance to me. What mattered was the way she looked into my eyes, staring directly at me. She looked at me like I was a monster.

On the outside, my body held its unwavering composure. But within, the eyes of the mare dug into the very depths of my soul. The sheer terror of the mare ate into me, corroding like acid and hurting more than any physical pain ever would. I wanted to break free, to tell her I was sorry. I really was sorry, and I would do anything to let her know I cared about her. It did not matter whether I knew her, or would even like her as a pony. But I cared. I cared about those unlucky souls, but the same did not apply when the viewpoints were switched. Caring for somepony who hated every ounce of being in you for reasons out entirely of your control. That was the very definition of torture.

My body finished its excruciatingly painful journey to the control panel. It stopped moving, my heart taking another plummeting drop in my chest.

“You have been taken here today for crimes against the peoples of Equestria,” I spoke in a firm voice, not very deep but firm enough to radiate extreme authority. She stared wordlessly into my eyes, her mouth hanging slightly open. “You have been charged with murder of authorities, the support of and involvement with rebellious organizations, and attempted escape from city walls.”

A tear escaped the eyes of the mare, streaming down her muddy cheek. That tear belonged to me just as much as it did to her.

“What do you say in your defense?”

Just like every single last pony before her, she did not say a word. She merely stood in horror, staring at my slowly rising hoof.

“You are hereby sentenced to the death penalty. Your evil deeds have come to an end.”

My hoof came into contact with the large red lever, causing the lever to inch closer to the other side of the panel.

Two large metal arms extended from either side of the room, making their way towards the terrified mare. Her eyes darted back and forth. They focused on the advancing metal arms, then to me. Then the arms, then to me. The arms entered the cage which housed the pony, the hands on their ends opening their fingers. She backed to the edge of the cage, trying to avoid them in any way possible. As the hands changed course to follow her directly, the expression on her face turned into pure fear. A scream escaped her lips as the hands grasped around her neck, the scream tearing my soul apart.

They held her head high so that her neck was exposed. It was practically suffocating her already, but she’d live long enough for the finale. A hidden compartment on the nearby wall slid open to reveal a rotating sawblade, causing more terrified screams from the doomed mare. It extended out from its hole, the increasing speed amplifying the mare’s terror.

These last few seconds of the ponies’ lives were the worst part of my entire existence. The only remaining thing that could truly hurt me. I just wished I could say two words... just two small words to the poor, poor pony... two words...

“I’m sorry.”

Wait - who said that? I felt a tingling sensation originating in my shoulder, quickly spreading across my entire body. What in Equestria...?

The sawblade stopped as my hoof lifted from the lever. For a fraction of a second, I could see a glimmer of hope in the mare’s eyes. Then I collapsed onto my side, falling limp.

What the actual fuck? My eyes began moving, darting to the very few things I could see - the base of the control panel and my outstretched hooves. It took me a moment to realize I was controlling them. My mouth opened into an expression of shock, and began to curve into a slight smile. The first smile I had ever smiled. It felt alien, strange... but good.

An alarm sounded, interrupting my feeling of joy. My mind snapped back to the situation, and I flailed my hooves wildly in an attempt to stand. Eventually, I somehow managed to pull myself back onto my hooves. I looked away from the mare, unsure of what I would feel if I looked back. I didn’t want to risk any further emotional distress. I prayed that she would live, as unlikely as it was.

Instead, I headed back to the doorway. I marched as fast as I had ever marched, peering through the glass door and into the long hallway. Two earth ponies, both enormous and muscular, were charging towards me at full speed. I had never seen a pony move in such a peculiar fashion, but it occurred to me that they were approaching quickly. The length of the hallway proved helpful for once, allowing me to study their movement enough to have enough confidence to try it myself.

The metal walkway in this room was a fair bit wider than the hallway, so I stepped to the side of the doorway. The charging ponies - both nearly identical; they were dark gray with white manes and far more muscles than I suspected was normal for a pony - sent the glass door flying into the wall as they burst through. The glass shattered, shards of glass scattering around our hooves and an ear-piercing sound nearly deafening us. The ponies stopped for a fraction of a second to observe their destructive accomplishment, giving me the perfect opportunity to escape back down the hall.

Even through the many noises sounding around me, I thought I could hear the words "thank you". Even though it was probably my mind just trying to make me feel better, I felt happy. The first time I ever felt any sense of joy or accomplishment in my miserable life.

~~ ~~ ~~

Finding my way out of the complex was suspiciously easy, despite the large size and various winding pathways. The two muscular ponies were nowhere to be seen after the little episode in the execution room, leading me to believe I was being let out easy. Surely they assumed that, being so unaccustomed to the world around me, I would die off quickly. I actually felt that way myself, but I was determined to at least do something with my newly achieved freedom.

A burst of static exploded in my right ear, causing me to flinch. I had never flinched before, the feeling was alien but strangely comforting. The static subsided, followed by a broadcast by them.

“I know your audio receiver still works. Get the fuck back inside the complex or we are going to murder you!”

While I wasn’t the most familiar with how threats worked (or for that matter, anything) I still had trouble believing they were going to follow through with that claim. If anything, it sounded badly rehearsed. All of us slaves received occasional broadcasts, mostly just scolding us for reasons we were unaware. After a few years, you tended to start ignoring them. It was a great way to learn how to speak, though. At least a little. Maybe a bit heavy on the more foul side of language, but it was a start.

I eventually found my ways to what was apparently the front doors. It was merely another automatic glass door at the end of another small, badly-maintained hallway. I had almost thought I turned in a circle until I got close enough to see outside.

Dilapidated housings stood on either side of a cracked road, modified to contain locking mechanisms on the doors and windows. Virtually identical buildings stretched for a while in front of me, an intersection visible in the distance. What really got me, however, was when I looked upwards. A seemingly endless void of black expanded above me, dotted with little white specks. I froze in place, mouth agape as I stared for what seemed like forever. I felt as if I would fall up into the void, away from everything.

I never did. After several more long moments of astonished gaping, I squeezed my eyelids shut and looked back forward. After a life of enclosed spaces, I was quite agoraphobic while outside. I lowered myself to the ground and forced my eyes to point as straight forward as possible.

I inched across the road, careful not to trip on any cracks. Walking of my own free will was still a new experience to me, several times I stumbled and almost fell over. I could still feel remnants of marching in my steps, it would probably take weeks to get out of that habit. Or did ponies normally march? Hell if I knew. I’d still have enough trouble getting used to standing up for more than thirty seconds at this rate. It was a miracle I hadn’t even toppled over yet.

The miracle was fairly short-lived. My legs finally gave out and sent me slamming onto the damaged concrete. I thought I could feel a pebble slice into my side, a warmth trickling down my leg. The pain had no effect on me, however I was unsure if this... unsupervised injury would have any negative repercussions. It was always their goal not to kill us.

I pulled myself back to my hooves, having much more difficulty than the first time. I looked back at the wretched building from which I had come. The front entrance certainly wasn’t an attention-hog, leaving a lot to be desired in terms of aesthetics. Looking upward, however, was a new definition of intimidating.

The complex towered into the sky, built with bricks made from reflective silvery metal. Four turrets adorned each corner, with more turrets (the weapon kind) mounted atop them. They appeared to be self-powered and automated, no pony was visible near them. A massive central building rose from the center of the turrets, its walls covered in propaganda posters easily visible from afar. While the concept of written language was alien to me, pictures of advanced weaponry and ponies working hard labor covered the posters. The walls ended in crenulations sharpened into points, and shined to the point of challenging a mirror in terms of reflectiveness. I gulped as I noticed ancient pony bodies impaled on several of the points. Judging by the condition of the bodies, they had been there for a while. It was almost like every inch of the... castle?… had been kept spotless, save for the decaying bodies.

Staring at the building in which I had spent my entire life sent terror burning through my veins. There was no question why the not-slaves feared us as much as they did. I looked downward, reminding myself that wasn’t really us. It was them, concealed within our bodies. I was free now... as far as I could tell. The remaining question now - where do I go?

I pushed myself back in the direction I was originally headed. When I reached the intersection, I decided to turn left. After more uneventful walking, I felt a little déjà vu as I wondered if I had made another circle. I was really bad with directions.

Just as I was about to turn around (again), an enormous wall entered my field of view. Decorated in the same manner as the castle... thing, it rose at least twenty feet. Climbing over was impossible thanks to its smooth surface, although clearly ponies had tried - several dead bodies of various ages littered both the ground around it and the crenulations. I was fixing to turn back in search of another pathway when a faint click! sounded to my right. Looking towards it, all I saw was a dying bush.

I approached the bush. Through the gaps in the brown, dying leaves was a small opening. Looking behind me, no immediate threat was imminent. With a lack of anything else to try, I pushed myself through. It was a squeeze, but I made it.