“Soon, Feather Tail was alone. There was nothing around him but the silent echo of the crypt. He opened his mouth to call out to his companions, but he lost his voice before he could utter a sound. He wasn't sure why, but the hair's on the back of his neck began to tingle again.
He wasn't alone.
Then, without warning, the dark creature leaped out of the shadows. Before Feather could react, the beast struck out at him with a pair of large, hook-like claws. They tore into his shoulder armor like it was made of paper, and were soon sunk deep into his flesh.
'AUGH!' Feather screamed in pain as he felt.....felt......”
The young, well suited stallion paused in the middle of his reading. He simply sat in his chair, not moving, as he pondered the words before him. The old book in his hooves felt old and rough, its yellowing pages, depicting a rather gory scene of a courageous hero, Feather Tail, about to meet his unjust demise. At least, that’s what it looked like. The next page might say that Feather Tail would be saved by his friends, or perhaps his friends would find his cold body, or the remains of it, much later when the creature was long gone.
Who could say, though, unless one had already read the book? The stallion certainly hadn't, which was why he was reading it now, and, much like Feather Tail, he wasn't alone. Nervous that he might have said something wrong, he simply stared at the page before him.
"He's stuck."
"He's not stuck. He's just...."
"Stuck."
The stallion glanced up from the tome in his now clammy, brown hooves, and gazed about the room for a moment. The room in question was just a normal family room that had a couple of tan chairs, a small coffee table and a rather large, white fireplace with a roaring fire already crackling inside of it. On either side of this welcome sight, sat two enormous bookshelves, each filled with a great many tomes, both old and new, with an occasional knick knack in between.
He then looked over to the one other pony in the room with him. To him, she was beautiful. Her white fur complimented her blond mane quite nicely, while her simple, light blue dress seemed to radiate her brilliance before him. She tilted her head a bit at him while wearing a small smile, as if she were trying to read his thoughts.
"I told you, he's stuck. They always get stuck at this point."
"Not always. Remember Number Eight? HE nearly made it."
"Nearly isn't enough in my book. Pun not intended."
"What pun?"
"I'm terminating the test."
"Wait! Maybe he-"
"He's stuck."
He is not! He's just-"
"I'm sorry." the stallion suddenly said, "But is this an appropriate book to read right now? I mean....." He looked down at the paragraph he was reading earlier, and read aloud from it once more.
“They tore into his shoulder armor like it was made of paper, and were soon sunk deep into his flesh.” He glanced back up at the mare with a sly grin. "Not very nice for a date, am I right?" The mare giggled at the remark and shook her head.
"HA! I told you!"
"He was merely improvising."
"Admit it. You're impressed."
"Improvisation only gets one so far. Number Twenty-one proved that, as I'm sure you remember."
"Please don't bring him up. I can't stand that guy."
"Agreed."
The stallion chuckled to himself, while he replaced the book back onto one of the shelves.
"What would you like to do now? I have plenty of books here, as you can see." He glanced back at the mare, hoping for a reaction, but was instead met with a rather blank stare.
"Miss? Is something wrong?" He asked her with a bit of concern.
"Umm.....is that supposed to happen?"
"No......at least I don't think so...."
"Oh geez....let's get him out of there and-"
"No."
"No? We can't just let him-"
"I want to see what he does."
"But....."
"You show too much sympathy for them. The test shall continue."
"........."
"What is it?"
"......I.........never mind."
"..........."
The white mare didn't react, nor did she respond. She just stayed still, her once happy demeanor now replaced with an expressionless face.
"Miss?" The stallion asked again, and yet again she didn't respond. This was unnerving to the stallion, but he didn't give up. He walked up to the mare and knelt beside her, and then he took one of her slender white hooves into his course brown ones.
"Miss....I am sorry if I offended you in some way." No response.
"Is there anything I can do to make up for whatever I have done?" No response.
"Please.....I cannot fix my mistake if you do not tell me what I did...." No response.
"Interesting....he's getting desperate...."
"He's starting to freak out. I can tell."
"No....he is merely trying to figure out what has happened. Do the technicians know of the problem?"
"I sent for them already. Perhaps we should-"
"No."
"..........."
"Not yet....."
"Miss?" The stallion asked once again. His grip on the mare's hoof began to shake. Small droplets of sweat appeared around his brow as he spoke.
"Please.....say something......" Soon, his whole body began to shake. His eyes darted back and forth from the mare to something off to the side, then back to the mare.
"Anything......"
"Interesting.......his mind...."
"...Blue......"
"..It appears that it does not comprehend the situation...."
"Blue....stop this....."
"Almost like it's......"
"Blue....he is clearly losing it....stop....."
"Like it's...."
"Blue!"
"Stuck."
"That's it.....TERMINATE THE TEST! TERMINATE THE TEST NOW!"
"..........Please.......say something..........I beg of you......"
The stallion was now slumped against the ground. His dark mane was strewn across his face, and his hooves twitched in unnatural spasms. The white mare remained motionless above him. He was barely paying attention to anything at that point. Only the abrupt sound of a familiar voice snapped him out of it.
"Number Sixty-Two." The stallion didn't move.
"Number Sixty-Two." The cold voice said again. "Please stand up."
The stallion didn't get up, but he did lift his head to look at the scientist that was now standing inside the ornate room with him. He was in the white coat. Actually, his whole body was dressed up in a completely white outfit. White boots. White gloves. White shirt and lab coat. Even his mask was white. Not a single part of his body was revealed. The only thing that wasn't white was the lenses in his goggles.
They were blue.
"I asked you to stand up Number Sixty-Two." Reluctantly, Sixty-Two slowly got onto his knees, and from there he stood up on his hooves. He was a complete mess, he realized, and he blushed out of embarrassment. He sheepishly began to straighten out the black suit that he was wearing, but it was far too wrinkled and tangled up in his matted, brown fur that he eventually just gave up. The blue goggled pony tilted his head at Sixty-Two for a moment, before he nodded towards another white coated pony with a sharp, spiraling point protruding out of his forehead behind him who was standing just inside of a hidden door that wasn't in the wall before. This one wore black tinted goggles. After a moment of looking around the room, the unicorn's horn was enveloped by a dark aura as a small clipboard and a pen with a similar colored aura around them were both slipped out from behind him. He made a quick note on the clipboard before the blue goggled pony turned back towards Sixty-Two.
"Number Sixty-Two." He said in his usual cold tone. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes." Sixty-Two replied. "You're Blue."
He could clearly hear the scratch of a quill against the clipboard behind Blue.
"Very good. Do you know who the pony behind me is?"
"That's Black."
Scratch-scratch.
"Good." Blue said with little emotion in his voice. He cleared his throat before asking the one question that Sixty-Two hated the most.
"Can you tell me why you failed the test?"
"I got stuck when...." He glanced at the still motionless mare beside him. "When the Miss stopped moving."
Scratch-scratch.
"What about before? When you were reading the book?"
The stallion looked back at Blue, a stunned look on his face. "I didn't get stuck there."
Scratch-scratch.
"Don't lie to me Sixty-Two. I know you got stuck there."
"I....I didn't! Honest!"
Scritch-scritch.
"Sixty-Two! Why did you get stuck?!"
"I wasn't stuck!"
Scra-BAM.
Clackity-clack.
"He wasn't stuck!" Yelled a new voice. Blue sighed a little, as he looked behind him. Another white coated pony was now standing in the room. Beside him, Black was retrieving his fallen clipboard that the new pony had knocked out of his hooves, and onto the marble floor behind him. This new white coat had goggles that were tinted green.
"He wasn't stuck......" He repeated, "He was just improvising....." He looked past Blue at Sixty-Two, and though he couldn't see his face or his eyes, Sixty-Two could still feel the pleading look that he was trying to give him.
"Right? Sixty-Two?"
"Yes!" He replied, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm, "I was just improvising!"
Blue looked back and forth between the two ponies, trying to gauge whether or not to believe them. Both Sixty-Two and the green goggled pony stood their grounds, each expecting to be found out.
"Very well." Blue said after a while. "I believe you." He glanced at the green goggled pony and nodded once before turning back to Black, who was then scribbling furiously on the clipboard. He began to make his way towards the door with a calm pace, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Just before he left the warm room with the books and the fireplace, he turned around and acknowledged the green goggled pony, one more time.
"Green." He said. "Please escort Number Sixty-Two back to his quarters. Now." And with that, he turned tail and left with Black at his side, who was still taking notes. Green and Sixty-Two didn't move for a moment, neither moving a muscle, each pondering what had just occurred.
Then they both busted out laughing.
If another pony were to come into the testing room at that moment, he or she would have witnessed a very strange sight. A white coated pony with green tinted goggles, doubled over a chair that appeared to have a motionless mare residing in it, and a brown stallion wearing a crumpled up, black suit was rolling on the ground, his hoof repeatedly pounding the ground in front of him, both of which were howling with laughter at what seemed to be nothing whatsoever. A very, very strange sight indeed.
After a time of this nonsense, both calmed down long enough to regain their wits and realize where they were again. Sixty-Two cleared the tears that were coming out of his eyes, while Green came over to him and helped him back onto his hooves. Despite the fact that Green was wearing a mask, they both had rather content faces on themselves.
Without a word to each other, they moved to leave the room. Green was almost out the door when, suddenly, Number Sixty-Two stopped. Green looked at him and saw that he was staring at the motionless mare, his content face no longer appeared on his features, and was instead replaced with a rather solemn look.
"How many times must I fail?" He began to say, "Before I pass one of these blasted tests......" Green didn't know how to answer him, so he remained silent. "How many times," he continued, "must I see her face again......?”
"Those...." Green tried to say, "Are rather hard to answer......" The stallion looked back at Green, his features now displaying a look of desperation.
"Have any of us ever passed?"
Green hesitated before answering. "None that I know of......" The stallion drooped a bit, defeat in his eyes. "BUT!" Green exclaimed. "This facility has been around for a long time, so I'm sure that somepony has passed the tests!"
The stallion with a number for a name perked up at that thought. He looked at the white coat with a color for a name before asking, "Are you sure?"
"Positive." He replied. "Now come on. Let's get you back to your unit." Number Sixty-Two agreed, and made his way towards the door. Green observed him go, and just as he left the room, Green saw the picture on his flank where a "Cutie Mark" was supposed to be, but instead of a picture of his special talent, there was only a large black number.
The number sixty-two.
Green quickly followed the strange stallion, and just as the door was being closed behind him, one could hear a small part of their conversation.
"Improvisation? Really? Like Number Twenty-One?"
"Please....don't bring him up. I can't stand that guy."
"Agreed."
