Illusions

by Ltn Vasquez

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 5620

"They took my friend, and I haven’t the right to anguish over him, for I have taken many of their friends. Have they anguished? I am sure they have."

"They took my friend, and I haven’t the right to anguish over him, for I have taken many of their friends. Have they anguished? I am sure they have."

A unicorn is thrown in a very foreign world with very little control as to what occurs. He doesn't understand as to what the point of his task is or why this is not a prison.

"What does it matter, this place is already a prison in itself".

Published 2013-06-26 23:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-26 23:10:01 UTC

I Will See You Soon

Illusions

By Ltn Vasquez

Four metal walls, two benches, and a single window. It isn't all that bad, yet I still feel that this has to be the most depressing prison of all. It doesn't help that it is just a coach, nor does it assure me. If this is just the coach, what was the real thing? I imagine it even more compressed than this one.

A bump shakes the coach violently. The road is getting rocky. Is there no road? I wonder where I am. Nowhere near Equestria, it couldn't be. I strain to see through the window, but my view is obstructed by a tail; A large, furry tail.

Not even the luxury to see the world? I believe this to be an asylum more than a prison if it will not grant me such freedoms. I look down to the restraints on my hooves. Rope, of all the cuffs I could be restrained in, is chaffing my skin. Attempting to remove it would do more harm than good.

CRACK

The sound was familiar, too familiar for my liking, though the source was not easy to find. The metal walls echoed the sound in such a way that I cannot tell what direction it came from. For all I knew, the shot might have come from everywhere at once. The coach stops and I hear the yells of my captors. A pity; Should my captors fall, I would be left in the coach, locked in here. At least it was not too hot. That is a somewhat pathetic plus.

The doors open. A stallion garbed in Kevlar hides behind the door. He tells me to stay put. I show him my cuffs to show the the stupidity of his command. What would I do, crawl my way to freedom? Bah, I'd rather accept my punishment than fall so low.

The cracks of my captors and the enemy continue, than stop. The officer leading the caravan at hand walks into the coach and says to me that that was why they carried such weapons. I roll my eyes.

"Lucky for you, we've arrived" he says. He grabs me by the neck like a cat would carry her youngling. As he drags me out, I notice the enemy in a line, sprawled out with hooves out. My captors stand with their rifles aimed. First, they were jailers. Now, they are a legal firing squad. Some of ponies who’d fired on us were silent, most mumbled, one was sobbing for his release. Pathetic, he should accept his fate rather than beg.

CRACK

I could say it was cruel, but such is life. It would only make another red river. I myself had made too many to count in the name of our goddess. The soldiers would surrender and we wouldn't have the resources to imprison them.

Crack

Such is life.

The officer tosses me through an iron gate. It towers above me and stretches beyond; how could it stretch so far? In the distance, the gate stretches 'round a city. The officer throws me through the gate before I can get better bearings. I stand up, and the officer throws a saddlebag at me.

"Follow the instructions in the envelope. You have seventy-two hours," the officer says. He salutes. I don't, he must be heartless to respect me and send me into Hell.

The officer enters the coach and off it goes. Meanwhile, the red river streams through the gate. I would soon join the line. I look down to the saddle bag and manage to rummage out a small, white envelope. Luckily, it is open. I pull out a short sheet of parchment.

Due to your criminal offense, you have been dishonorably discharged from the Royal Guard.

However, due to the lack of room in any of our disciplinary facilities, we have decided to conduct an experiment.

Not even a signature. How privileged I feel. Other than a few supplies and a suit, a chemical suit from the looks of it, the only item of interest is what looks like an average electric tuner, but the figures are wrong. Where are the notes? E? A? D? They aren’t there. A shame, I would have wanted to play a tune right about now.

And look, a knife! The officer actually had the audacity to free me. Then again, I don’t believe he would really leave me to crawl about; it would not fulfill my task. I made an attempt to grab it, but my hooves were too tightly bound. I remind myself of other methods, and the knife floats up in a sphere of scarlet glow. It floats to my wrist and begins cutting for what seemed to be a decade. The blade was dull, but the ropes eventually fall, and so does the knife.

I stand up and rub my shoulder. The coach was now a distant memory, leaving nothing but dust, casings, and a few rotting corpses. The rebels’ attack on the caravans were nigh to occur. I look back to my destination. Several buildings, one in the shape of a skinny cone. I begin my walk.

Fat clouds cover the sky. I pray to Celestia for a miracle, but the clouds refuse to let go. Perhaps she did not agree with my decisions? She should live with it. I should live with it.

Remember Brutus, success is temporary. Failure is forever.

Forever indeed, if not for the rest of the rest of my life. Yet, seventy-two hours in a deserted city seemed to be a sad excuse for disciplinary action-

Tick

I stop, for I swear upon the goddesses' name that the mirage in the distance is a figure and that I must be seeing it. My eyes cannot deceive me, yet it cannot be-

Tick

It's gone. I wonder what or who that was, but rather I decide to pay attention to other matters. I pull out the tuner. On inspection, it hovered just above the zero.

Tick

I leave it be and walk forward for a distance until the tuner increased in tempo, then becoming a constant metronome. What it meant, I cannot even fathom.

Soon, the ticks become my friend. It never leaves me and it had to remind me it was there for me. Damn metronome, I want to smash it. It has no purpose here, and certainly not reason for it to confuse me with its nonsense.

I keep walking but suddenly realize something. The buildings were not growing. I must be slow, I speed up. All I pass is downed trees, and the buildings are still very far.

Tick
Tick
Tick

My vision begins to blur. I rub my eyes, but the only success is a mirage. No, mirages. More and more illusions appear in the distance looking as fragile as the wind. But they begin to solidify slightly . My head hurts, a ringing in my ears like a mortar has struck trench near me. It is reaching a crescendo and-

~~~

I blink. I am no longer outside; in fact I am no longer where I should be. The room I am in is an office. Papers litter the ground as if a tornado swept through. I suddenly realize I had tripped. Silly Brutus, you must pay attention to your surroundings. If you don’t, you’ll end up having another seizure. And then what? You will have failed your task.

Only vaguely did I notice the slow in beat. The metronome was no longer screeching at me to notice the intensity of the… well what? Something had reached a high point, the metronome had noticed. But what it was, I am still unable to fathom. And yet, the problem remained.

The metronome was still beating at a moderate speed. I notice I’m tapping my hoof. I stop. This was no time for a tune. I must find my way through this place.

I look about. There are several exits. I want to leave though them, but I figure that I should stay put. I decide to look through the papers here, at least the ones stacked on the desks. I shuffle through a few, nothing. I go through another, but it’s all documents and such. Nothing truly important here.

I find one however; it looks to be on the subject of scientific research. I was never a science major, nor had I the experience to understand the language of science. There is a picture. Some sort of pipe. There is an arrow pointing to another, but the other pipe seemed to be broken, for it sprayed some sort of gas From where two pipes connected. There is also a paragraph concerning temperatures. It looks to be dangerous when very high, but again, my knowledge on the subject is limited.

I decide to pocket it. I exit through a pair of double doors and make my way through a corridor. It’s rusted, and the roof is collapsed. Ceiling panels lay on the floor and wires and such hang from the ceiling like many desperate ponies reaching down for something but failing in their attempt. I can see their faces, defeated. I know how they must feel.

It is eerily quiet here. The silence presses down on my ears so that every step was a thunderclap. I find that one door is marked ‘Cells’. The door swings on poorly constructed hinges that had begun to fall off. It is a wonder the door was still intact to the hinges. Of course, the room contained cells. Seeing this, I decide that the caravan was not the worst prison I had to be in.

This place must have had a time where escape was a must. The cells were all open save one where a skeleton lay with a crowbar. It explained the broken door. I open the cell easily due to corrosion and take the crowbar. One wall had been ripped apart by an explosive, a corpse of another prisoner lays, torn by fire and shrapnel. I enter through the wall and find another skeleton.

Celestia has smiled upon me, for this corpse was carrying a weapon. It is a rifle that looks to be in fair condition, despite the burns. I pull it off the corpse, and suddenly I see that Celestia really did abandon me. The rifle breaks in two. I stare at it, unbelieving. However, I see that there is at least one object that is still salvageable. The magazine was definitely intact. I pull it out and inspect it. There is a small amount of rounds, but what use is a bullet without its rifle? Celestia has a cruel sense of humour.

I pocket it and look about. I find that the room I am in is a television room with only one other door. All the televisions are broken save one that seems to be running. I look at the screen and I see the ruins of what seems to be a control room. I look to the door and see that entrance requires access by some sort of round object. I look at the corpse and I want to leave right then, for it was a unicorn.
I grab the corpse. It is heavy, but I don’t let that stop me. Slowly, I drag it to the door, then aim the horn at the hole. I pushed it in, and a green light flashes. The door clicks. I drop the corpse and enter the next room, only to be met by a copy of the last. I have to repeat the process under a furious rage. I finally drop the corpse, making sure to kick it on the way, and enter the next room. It’s a massive chamber of controls and chairs. The controls are dead, but the televisions seems to still work. I believe there must be a generator here. It’s overlooking another, darker chamber. There is machinery in there, and I see a familiar pipe.

I pull out the crumpled paper and raise it so that the picture is next to the screen. There, the second pipe in the picture matched a smaller version on the screen, but the one in the screen was not spewing out steam.

I drop the paper and decide to find this place. I leave the chamber and start my weaving through the building again. Most rooms were nothing but desks, broken computers, and ceiling panels. There were a lot of those around here. I’m lost, that I cannot deny. I feel like I’m doing circles around the building.

I finally encounter a door with a picture on top of a pony running down steps. I enter through there and I notice a sign indicating that I am on ground floor. I go down. I keep going until I reach a door on the bottom. Entering, I find myself in a smaller room with more televisions. They overview the pipes I’d seen before. I start to go through the door when the metronome spikes in speed.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

I stop. Illusions, mirages, whichever it is, I must ignore them.

“The leak in there caused this whole place to burn.”

Leak? I don’t understand what he means, and I don't want to.

“I see you will not budge. Perhaps you should wear some protection.”

He’s right, perhaps it is a he? The voice was very masculine, but it was only an assumption. I levitate the suit out and pull it on. I enter, and even then my metronome is telling me about the danger in there. I ignore it as well. Inside, the pipe is ready to collapse. I don’t understand what had happened here, but the pipe still looks like it can be fixed. I walk up to it, and my metronome sounds as if it was ready to break. I stand next to the pipe and push it. It doesn’t budge, so I use my magic to give weight on it. Still it doesn’t move, then a loud screeching as the pipe slides in place.

My metronome calms considerably, but it still sounded as if it will break. How inconsiderate it was. I turn around and the illusion is there, a smile splaying on transparent lips, but then it is gone. I exit the room and enter the television room again. But something is not right. My vision is blurring, but now that I had something to close by to look at, I see it is not blurriness, but a strange sort of static. I see the illusions again, but it is not the same.

It’s facing away, but I can see a hole that had cut through the neck.

It is not real, it is not real

He should be dead, Brutus. What is he doing here?

I shut my eyes and walk forward. I manage to pass it, then I’m at the hoof of the stairs. I start my way up the stairs slowly and then-

Mistakes are forever, friend. You should know that very well

I begin to gallop as fast as my short legs can take me fast. I don’t remember any time that I’ve galloped this fast. I rammed a door open and blindly gallop through the hallways. I wanted out, and I intended to find a way. And yet, no way out. I find a bathroom and hide in it. I’m gulping air in an attempt to slow my blood flow. I decide to take off the suit and place it in my bag. I stay for a few minutes, then observe the bathroom. It’s empty save a single stall. Out of curiosity, I enter it.

Another one, and this one was trying to open a window. My Celestia, are you going to trick me again? I wish not to raise my hopes. Nonetheless, I tried to open the window. Of course, it was locked. The window was also too hard to break. I am angry again, I simply want to leave. This time, I notice a corpse next to a cracked mirror where the sink was. I lunge at the mirror and crack it further. Again and again I strike until it shatters. I fall to the ground, my arm bleeding profusely. I grab some toilet paper and wrap it around my forehooves. When I finish, I notice the mirror again.

A hole, ventilation duct to be exact. No wonder the corpse was here, he’d probably known the exit, but died on the spot. I pull myself in and crawl through it. The smell of rust is overpowering. I keep crawling until I reach a grate with light pouring in.

Perhaps I have reached the outside world? No such luck. It is but another room. However, this must be in another part of the building. I decide to leave it be and move to another direction. I continue on but stop shortly after. The duct was shaking, and it gives in. I can’t move, so I’m forced to bounce on the walls. When the duct lands, I slide down and slam my head against a wall.

Luckily, that wall was a door. Double doors. Windows. Light! I scramble out of the duct and peek through the window. I gasp at the expanse, for it stretched out as far as the eyes can see. Though, there is only one pair of eyes seeing this. I feel very alone.

I pull the knob and the door opens. A breath of humid air blasts through the building. The metronome spikes again, and my vision blurs as well. I pull the door shut. Whatever I had soaked in from the opening had stayed with me. I see the illusions again, but there are more, many more. They look like shadows, so fragile and transparent, making them very difficult to see.

My head is pulsating under an immense pain. I can’t even hear my thoughts.. Staring into the brightness of the window felt like another morning with my brother sprawled on the floor with a few bottles about. The figures weren’t leaving. In fact, they are easier to see than before.

I am surprised, I see that they are but normal ponies. Nothing particularly strange, in fact it seems to be more of a normal evening for the proletariat to walk back to his house after a hard work in the factory. It was a shame, they look so kind, even a little bored. I care to join them, to speak with one of them, but I pull myself away from that dream. The outside air was contaminated, that was for sure.

I move away from the window and turn to the corridor. It looks to be a reception area, but I can’t tell. This place looks to be in even worse condition than the other building I was in.

There must be a generator here, the lights are on. I think about searching for it. Some of the lights flicker, but I don’t mind. Whatever light it can provide is enough. I start forward in the hallway. Dust covers the air and the hallway is a dull gray. Despite the lack of colour here, I find that this might have been the remnants of some sort of hotel. There are chairs and benches about. Not the fanciest, but it was the closest thing I could think of. I walk up to the receptionist desk and I look over.

There is not much but papers, a clipboard, and matches. I have no need for matches, but I look back to the clipboard. It’s a list of names. Customers? No, the names have a descriptions. I look at a random name.

Dusk, of all names. Sprained ankle. A very common occurrence that I myself have encountered. Three times, one as a colt, should’ve listened to mother. Another when I first rode a boat. The joy I felt only to be shattered after attempting to sprint to the boat and the inevitable occurring. The third...

Mistakes are forever

I find it strange, I had been working with the very ponies who would soon throw me in this hell. I had no right to feel ill about them, but I still do. I look down the list, but I don’t even know what I am looking for. There is nothing here but names from... how long? I could not tell, there are no dates here.

Gale. What the bloody hell are you doing on this list, friend? I thought you were out there being a fine guard, not a patient. You should be out there fighting against the terror trying to murder our queens. Speaking of queens, why should I protect her now? She has thrown me into a prison without a second thought and is playing with memories I was trying to forget.

Bullet wound. I want to smash this clipboard for tormenting me so, but I see a figure. B34. It’s drilled in my head, I won’t forget it. I’m about to drop the clipboard, but I decide to let off steam. I toss it at a wall and the wood breaks easily. It feels good to do that. I leave swiftly past the receptionist desk and stop.

Elevators flanked me, and the stairs were in front. Damn, I was tired as it was and my head is feels ready to rupture. The metronome was not helping. Its ticks were still moderate, but each beat was like a strike to the head. I open the door to the stairs and move up. If this was ground floor, then C level must be three floors up. As I go up, the metronome is slowing. Even then, I stop. I had begun to feel an intense nausea. I wait for a moment to let the feeling pass. When it does, I continue on.

Ground... A... B! I’m exhausted, but I don’t let that stop me. I must see my brother, even if it kills me. I pass by many doors, all marked with their respective designation. B32... B33... B34! It’s here. The door is intact, even the hinges. I try to open it, but is locked. No, hell no. I did not go this far to let a locked door stop me. I need a way in, something. A thought passes, and it clicks. I dig through my saddlebag and pull out the crowbar. So I was wrong, Celestia had smiled, but I had been wrong as to when she had.

I rip the door open and barge in to see two ponies inside. One is pushing his rifle against another who was leaning against the window. The armed soldier pulls his rifle and aims the butt at the smaller one, He smashes it into the other's face. Blood spews from his face as he’s flung out the window from the force. No, not again. I grab the soldier and push him away. Without a second thought I jump out.

I see Gale, and I don’t want him to leave, not again. I see him falling down, the blood spewing from his nose. I land, and it hurts. The fall was not very far, perhaps a story or so. I don’t know where I am, but I feel pain pulsing through my whole body. I try to move but I can’t. I rather open my eyes and see that he is not far. I want to go and help him, but I cannot move. The soldier appears next to me, he strikes the butt of his rifle on me. I cough blood, the pain is excruciating.

He has his rifle and is aiming when Gale turns and grabs the rifle.

Crack

My ears ring, and dust flies from a spot next to Gale. The soldier presses the rifle down on Gale again and I feel helpless. I suddenly notice the pistol that he had. I try to crawl, but I can’t. Once again, I remind myself of other methods. I pick myself up, leaning against a piece of rubble and the pistol flies to my hand. I take aim and I realize my mistake. If I fired then... no, this is enough. I fire and the bullet cuts through. They’re both still, and I stand here, shaking. The pistol drops from my hoof, but I do not notice it disappear from existence, nor the transparency of Gale and the soldier. However, I do notice a very familiar bullet hole that had cut through the soldier’s torso and through my late friend’s neck.

I am a murderer. I never thought so before, but I see it now. I am nothing but a cold-blooded murder and certainly a selfish bastard for trying to end this madness...

~~~

I wake up, and I see that I am outside. I feel like I have landed on my shoulder. I believe I have. I look up, and the sun is there. Before, It was completely set to night. Now it looked like it had decided to reverse direction. It was sunset.

My task was almost fullfilled. The bodies are gone, and I feel my anguish is all but gone. I try to walk, but when I do, I collapse. The nausea comes in another wave, then, vomit. A discoloured slime pours out of my moth in burst, then in spit, and nothing but a painful dry heave. I can’t breathe, my stomach is convulsing. I start to see black forms around my eyes, and the heaving stops. I try to stand up. When I do, I cough again. Out comes blood. I must have been struck hard.

I look up and I see more illusions. They are very solid. One of them is dressed in a a tie, he approaches me. I ignore it, he was much more real than I like it to be. I start forward. I notice the metronome, it looked like it would shatter. The needle was very far to the right. I decide to drop it on the ground. It breaks, and the cursed metronome stops.Goodbye, friend.

The pony wearing a tie walks up to me. I can’t tell what colour he is, his solidification was not enough to let me see this.

"The lust of pain is the vice of ponies given the capability to send their brethren to Hell with no further regret."

I feel as if he is wrong, but I am living proof of his words. How many ponies have I sent? I could not tell, but I know I had that lust many times. They took my brother and I haven’t the right to anguish over him, for I have taken many of their brothers. Have they anguished? I am sure they have.

I stumble away, but the illusion follows me. As I walk forward, I manage to see that the gate is not very far. The sun is setting, my seventy-two hours are up. I look to the illusion. He is looking at me, and then he looks away. He waves his hoof and a group of soldiers join him. I count seven, all with rifles. What was this, another firing squad?

I cough into my arm, and in the process I made my arm look like I had slit it with glass. I want to do that, now. I wish to leave the world and not feel this pain that I must carry. I keep going and soon I am at the gate. Seventy two-hours up. The caravan is here. The officer, a pony in a lab coat, even my captors. He is speaking to the officer when he sees me and approaches me. He’s a gray-coloured pony with a a white mane. How odd.

He says something, but I don’t acknowledge. The pain in my head had reached a high point to which my hearing made him sound like a far away echo in a long chamber. I notice the illusions lined up, rifles pointed up. What the bloody hell were they doing? They can’t kill if they aren’t aiming right.

He inspects me and writes down his observations on a clipboard. The officer approaches me. He seems to be listening to something from the scientist, and then he nods. I want to say something, but I can't. I see the officer reach for his pistol.

CRACK!

I fall to the ground. It was so much louder than I expected. It sounded like multiple shots were fired, not just from the officer. I see him turn back to the scientist, his pistol holstered. The pressure in my chest is great, but I do not feel the sensation of death coming. Wait...

I smile, for I had miscalculated once again. This was the second miracle. I look to his pistol and manage to float it out. It comes to my hand and I aim.

CRACK!

I notice that the illusions had fired, all seven in line, rifles in the air. This was the second time. I pick myself up and try to move around. My captors were already moving about, one already had his rifle pointed down range.

CRACK!

Eight shots, I fall to the ground. My body is soaked. My chest has been ripped apart by this monstrosity, and I must bear this torture until my body gives in. My head slides and I can see the illusions lowering their rifles. They look very solid now, but not quite. I can see now that they all have a uniform of a sort, most carry the guards' armour, but others ranged from different lands.

I see the suit illusion approaching me, but I care not to speak with him. I believe that I have gotten what I deserve, I just wonder, if I am sent to Hell, how it will feel to see all the ponies I’d sent. I just hope that I see Gale. Hopefully I will, for I loved him like a brother. Hopefully I will...

~~~

“Do you need a hand?”

I don’t know. I open my eyes. The sky is black save the shining moon. His face is illuminated, and I do not see an illusion in a tie. I see a towering alicorn with a pale body and a mane that shone so brightly, I think it is made of pure light. It probably is. I take his hand and he pulls me up. As he does, I notice my hoof giving away- no, wait. It’s separating in two. When I am up, another body falls to the ground. I look at it and see a two bullet holes, one which has struck the neck, another which was stopped by a small magazine.

I look back at the massive alicorn. He is a pale stallion, and I know that the name granted to him was Death. Beyond him, I know is the stretch of Hell. The little city which I had glimpsed is devastated. Ashes cover the air as fires rage through the city. Many of the illusions I had seen now were real. Many of them wandered about as if they had nothing else to do. What are they waiting for? I believe that is something I should know, I needn’t ask. I look to the soldiers and back to Death.

I ask him why. He looks at me with eyes as black as an onyx.

“Despite it being an honour only to the highest of society, I find that those who have lived through life at its extent deserve this honour, regardless of their rank or status.”

I ask him if he has seen my brother.

“Of course I have, but he is not here. You know well where he fell, and that is where you will find him. “

I want to ask further, but I decide to leave him be. I thank him, and he says not to thank him, for he is just a pilot. “How so”, I ask. He says that he simply brought me from life to death.

He wore a tie before, that I think he stole it from my brother. Even Death knows my thoughts. He raises his hoof. Nothing, and just then, dust gathered in that area. It conforms into a dark-blue tie. I can't believe I'm seeing it. I wonder just how many times Gale wore this tie. I take it and nod to Death. He smiles, then turns away.

I turn around and see that there is something missing. The officer and the scientist were gone, though I had an idea over where they had gone.

I look to the seven soldiers soldiers and give a nod. Three of them nod back, and the other four salute to me. I do not understand, and I look down and realize that I was wearing my armour. It was proper, I came into this world a true guard. I wonder if my late brother is wearing his armour. I salute the other four and wonder what had become of them. I look towards the gate and realize that they were the rebels. I have more of a reason to thank them.

I exit through the gate and start forward into the unknown. I believe that any other pony would be going in any random direction, but I feel that I know where I am going. I look at the distance and I see ashes coming from that direction.

My brother has fallen, and I am going to find him and pick him up. I want to see him now, but I must be patient. I will see him soon, I know it well.