The Monster in Celestia

by The Music Man

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Princess Luna, Original Character, Comedy, Rarity, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Pinkie Pie
Length: 4104

Even Celestia has skeletons in her closet.

VX is an experimental pony weapon. Hackmid comes from a war-torn griffon tribe.

And together they fight crime!

And together they rip ponies to shreds!

Published 2013-08-19 17:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-19 17:50:02 UTC

Cuteness and Cut Throat All in One!

“Twilgiht!” yelled Princess Celestia, “did you get those Griffania reports read, notarized, and filed yet?”

“Not yet,” the newly anointed alicorn said in the middle of a hurricane of paperwork, folders, envelopes, and a disgruntled lobbyist from one of the many unions in Equestria. This was not the kind of work she imagined when the princess gave her her wings.

“Well then hurry up!” she barked. “I need a speech to reassure the Suejay Corporation that we are doing our best to protect their foreign interests, and them having better reports than we do isn’t helping.”

“O.k.,” Twilight grumbled at her former mentor, which now turned into her dementor. As she furiously sorted through the dozens of reports, she wondered what changed about Princess Celsetia, and more importantly why she was less patient than usual. Back then, Twilight could get away with making a town go insane, but now if she misplaces one report, Celestia loses it and starts commanding her like she was a private in the Royal Guard. If she wanted-

“Twilight! Stop daydreaming and get your job done.” Celetia was responding to the slowdown in the hurricane.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is putting you on edge today?” Twilight asked.

“Well if you filed the reports like I asked you to and actually took time out of your oh so busy schedule to actually do what you’re told, instead of trying to learn to fly, you would see that the Saxdan Griffin tribe has declared all-out war on Equestrian forces in their so called, ‘ancestral lands’.”

“But aren’t griffons naturally tribal? I mean, they fly in flocks and have nesting grounds and...”

“Twilight please,” Celestia said, rubbing her temples. “I’ve been dealing with griffins for over a thousand years. I think I know a little bit more about how they behave than you.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and kept looking. She could have sworn that she had seen those papers just yesterday.

“Looking for this, sister?”

Both Celestia’s and Twilight’s head turned toward the door with “Secretary” painted on it. Princess Luna stood in the doorway levitating the sought-after report.

Celestia shot Twilight the stink eye. “I told you to file it!” Celestia seethed.

“We should have know that thou hast kept with thy old ways,” Luna said.

“You weren’t meant to see it. If Twilight...”

Luna shredded the report. “Leave her out of our battle, sister! You and I rule, not her.”

Celestia grinned wide. “I declare that Twilight Sparkle co-rule with us. All in favor.” Celestia raised a hoof. Luna rolled her eyes and huffed. “Twilight, are you in favor?”

“I guess.”

“Then raise your hoof!”

Slowly, Twilight’s hoof made it past her pointed ear.

“Any opposed?” Celestia asked. Luna scowled but still raised her hoof. “Then it is settled. We are now a democratic triarchy.”

“Quadarky,” Luna said. “You forget Discord.”

“He’s not present, so he doesn’t count,” Celestia said, almost teasing.

“FINE!” Luna yelled in her Canterlot Voice (tm), causing Twilight to plug her ears. “PLAY YOUR WRETCHED GAME OF LIES AND DECEIT! WE SHALL ALL SEE HOW THIS ENDS!”

Manehatten. Among the hubbub and crime infesting the industrial factories and wide warehouses fly rumors. Salt deals, weapons traders, and secret government agencies are the talk of the night guards.

It was also the talk of secret agent Soft Touch, a rather deep blue unicorn mare, with a well-comb light blue mane to match. It was long enough to be attractive, but short enough as to stay out of the way.

She is currently employed at the Equestria Information Gathering Center (EIGC) with an experimental weapon: VX.

While looking at the portfolio of the current “client,” she could not help but wonder how VX was doing. She raised it ever since it was two years old.

Two guards gave her a quick and casual “hi.” She would have preferred salutes, but everything was on the down low, so formalities were out. The smell of cut pine and the whirl of saw blades helped keep this branch of the EIGC secret. It provided a good front. Plus if they ever needed an “accident” it wouldn’t be too hard to stage. But of course, she wasn’t there for a skid of two-by-fours.

She was there to quite literally squeeze information out of griffons.

As she entered into the elevator that would take her down to the Information Center, she reminisced on the good old days: knives, batteries, water, fleshlights, pron... Now it was all magic crap. It felt like cheating, but she could care less. As long as one more break beak got mentally and physically scarred at the end of the day, she was happy.

The elevator opened to a claustrophobic hallway, cheaply built out of concrete and I-beams. It was a short walk from the elevator to the steel door of VX’s room. One code later and she was staring into the pasty blank face of evil.

Mommy? it telepathically said. Touch always thought it was cute that it called her that.

“Come on honey. Let’s work.”

Do I get to play with another friend?

“Yes dear.” The pair walked into a slightly larger room. Basically a surgeon's workplace that was never cleaned. No pony cares if a break beak gets a staph infection while its talons are being ripped from it’s claw.

“Morning ma’am,” said one of the corporals.

“So we got a kid today?” Soft touch said.

“Yeah. A real son of a bitch from what I hear. ‘Killed two soldiers before we could get him.”

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?” Soft Touch asked as she flipped back in his file.

“He’s the son of the Saxdan leader, and he’s got the mouth of one too.”

“Bring him in.”

Two soldiers pushed a small griffin chained to a stretcher. “Let me go, you ass-stuffers!” he yelled. “If you hadn’t gotten lucky, I would of had your flanks for dinner, and I would have saved the eyes for desert! Then, I would dip your heads in acid and...”

“VX, please shut him up,” Soft Touch said, unphased. Using the unicorn stones planted within its bones, VX tightened the jaw of the young griffin. Soft Touch ran her plush hoof around her chatty victim's chin. “Now sweety, if you tell us where your ammunitions deposit is, we will let you live here in beautiful Equestria. You’ll never have to worry about war, or starving, or killing ever again.” VX instinctively let the griffon’s jaw go. “Now wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Go to hell, pony cut,” the griffon said.

“VX!”

VX loved this moment. It could do whatever it felt like. Boil blood, cause vacuums, explode limbs, start mental tormenting. It could feel its magic flow from every pour, find the victim, and begin...

For a few seconds nothing happened. Soft Touch grinned wide. “Had enough?”

The young griffon expectantly looked around the room. Knives, saws, blood, three stupid ponies, and one that looked like a poorly sculpted statue with skin over it’s eye holes and no mouth, and not much else. “Yeah,” he deadpanned, “I’m really in real agony here.”

Soft Touch scowled. “VX, torture him now,” she demanded.

No

“VX, you listen to me-”

I will not torture him.

Soft Touch put on her soft voice. “It’s not torture, you’re playing...”

Then why do they all scream for me to stop?!

Soft Touch took a few moment to let VX calm down. “I know this is hard for you, but more ponies will die if...”

And what about the griffons?!

The soldiers in the room looked for the source of the voice. The little griffon looked up from the stretcher. He knew it was the pasty one talking.

You always talk about the ponies, yet all I’ve ever seen were griffons being killed and taken by ponies...

“VX,” Soft Touch said.

...you’ve never felt their pain.

“VX, stop!”

VX stepped back. This was the first time Soft Touch has ever shouted at it. She never shouted at VX before.

Where’s dad?

“Excuse me?” Soft Touch said.

I want to talk to dad.

“Honey-”

DON’T CALL ME THAT!

The room went dead silent. Not even the whisper of thoughts could be heard.

“That’s it,” said the corporal. “Steel Sink, get the knife. We’re cutting this griffon with-”

Before the commander could say much else, VX vaporized him, his soldiers and Soft Touch in a flash of rage. The pasty pony slowly walked to the door to return to it’s room. “Hey,” the kid griffon said, “you’re not just going to leave me here to starve, are you?”

The pasty pony turned. This was unusual thing for any griffon to do. Usually, they’d shout, and curse, and scream; not talk in a soft voice like Soft Touch used. I guess not.

“Then cut me loose!”

... Do you mean your limbs or the restraints?

“Hmmm, I like my limbs, so I guess the restraints,” the kid griffon said, and like magic, the restraints popped open. “Sweet!” the kid griffon said as he catapulted himself to a hovor, then dived down to hug the pony. It’s hard claws and forearms felt weird against VX’s skin, especially since griffons used those appendages to kill ponies.

“So what’s the escape plan?” the griffon kid asked.

Escape plan?

“Yeah! How are we going to dupe those stupid claw-clippers?”

I don’t have an escape plan, it thought to the griffon, hanging it’s head.

“Ah don’t worry, I come up with them all the time, Slendy.”

Who’s this ‘Slendy’? I don’t feel anyone else but us.

“You! You’re almost skin and bones! But I wouldn’t be too concerned about it. Most male ponies like wimpy female ponies. Hell, if you had hair, I could use you as a decoy. That and eyes. And a nose. And mouth... You’re really messed up now that I look at you,” the griffon said.

At that moment, Slendy projected an image of herself as Soft Touch into his brain.

“Perfect!” the griffon said. He ran over to the wall, got some rope, tied it loosely around his neck, and handed the other end to Slendy.

What am I going to do with this?

“Jeeze, to I have to tell you everything?” The griffon rolled his eyes. “You pretend to be the pony you killed while holding the rope, and we walk past the guards like nothing is happening. It’s foolproof! Now, let’s go.”

So the griffon and Slendy walked up the short hallway. Luckily, the elevator wasn’t locked. As they went up, Slendy asked, So, what’s your name?

“Hackmid, from the Saxdan tribe,” Hackmid said as he swiveled around and held out his claw. He skewed his head as his claw hung in the air. “You’re suppose to let me shake your hoof.”

Oh, Slendy thought aloud, then proceeded with the shake. In no time, the pair were up top, and everything was going smoothly. The fake crate opened without a problem, all the wareponies ignored them, and the exit was only a few more steps away.

Then two guards came up and stopped them. “Work done early today, Solt Touch?” one asked.

What am I suppose to do? Slendy thought to Hackmid. All he did was jerk his head toward the guard, probably meaning, “Respond.”

Uh... Yeah. There was only one kid today so it didn’t take very long.

The one guard pony chuckled. “Celestia alive, I wish I had your job, instead of watching these agent wannabes.” The other guard started swiping his head between his friend and Slendy. With narrowed eyes, he pointed his hoof-gun at Slendy, mouthpiece in jaw.

“Stand down, Redrun!” the one guard pony barked as soon as he noticed the other. “Can’t you see that this is Soft Touch? She is allowed to-”

“Her lips didn’t move,” Redrun said, almost inaudible.

“What?”

“Her lips didn’t move!” Redrun said louder.

“That’s impossible. We were...” then Redrun pointed his shaking gun at the guard. “Redrun, put your weapon down! That is an order!” Redrun backed away, pointing the gun back and forth between the guard and Slendy. “Redrun.”

“No,” Redrun said. “I... I... I won’t!”

“Redrun, I am your commanding officer! You will do as I-”

Bang.

The guard fell limp to the floor. “Kill him,” Hackdirt whispered to Slendy.

But he is already dead.

Hackmid faceclawed. “I mean the other guard.”

But- Then the other guard shoved the gun under her chin. “What are you? A changeling? Because we-” Then in there, Redrun’s weapon flew off, along with his forleg. He screamed as he collapsed to the ground, shriveling up like a dead spider, and pressing on the missing limb. Hackmid then swooped in and ripped out Redrun’s throat, spraying blood all over the front of his body.

Wha... Wha... Was that really necessary?

“Doesn’t matter. RUN!” Almost like clockwork, buzzers and sirens sounded off and lighting the room red. Some of the wareponies pulled out hoof-guns and started firing at the pair.

Both ran toward the door, Slendy absorbing any guard in her way, leaving bloody halves as she made her escape. Hackmid flew ahead and tangoed with the guard pony at the closing door, first circling around her, and then diving in and ripping open her midsection with his claw, leaving her on the ground literally holding her guts in.

Before the rolling door could shut, both Hackmid and Slendy were able to escape. That was insane!

“It’s not over yet!” Hackdirt pointed down the street at the armored car. “Flip it!” With the extra energy from the cannibalized guards, Slendy expended the air on the vehical’s right, causing it to barrel-roll into the warehouse. “We got to get to Canterlot. Do you think you can teleport us there?”

I don’t know how. I don’t even know where that is! I’ve-

“THEN RUN TOWARD THAT MOUNTAIN!” Hackmid shouted, pointing toward said mountain. Slendy ran, vaporizing anything and anyone that stood in her way.

Once they were in the middle of a dense forest, however, Slendy slowed down, and collapsed.

* * *

“Terminal?”

“Yes, but we have a special program for her.”

“When can we see her again?”

“I’m sorry. Never.”

* * *

Cold water rushed over Slendy as she launched her head up. Mom? Dad?

“Good, you’re not dead,” said Hackmid. Slowly Slendy readjusted to being part of the land of the still living. “I got some food while you were out. Eat quickly. We don’t...” Hackmid didn’t finish his sentence because by magic, the food evaporated. “Wow, you’re good.” Then he started walking toward the mountain.

Where are you going?

“To Canterlot to kill Celestia,” Hackmid said, frankly.

Why?

Hackdirt faceclawed. “You really don’t know anything, do you? Come on, I’ll tell you on the way.” Slendy followed the strange griffon, part because of curiosity, part because she would need more food.

“It all started when the ‘Great and Benevolent Equestrian Nation’ decided to buy the land of the Saxdan. Only problem is, they bought it from the phony national government of ‘Griffonia’ without approval of the Saxdan tribe.”

So?

“SO now all of Equestria is out to take our nesting grounds! And trust me, they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Jeeze, you are stupid.”

Slendy ignored the “stupid” comment. Being a professional torturer, she had heard a lot worse. I meant what’s wrong with the deal?

Yet another faceclaw. “The national government of Griffiania is Celestia’s little puppet! It’s been that way ever since the battle between the dragons and equines. All you damn ponies think you can do whatever the hell you like.” Hackdirt walked a little faster. Slendy could tell he just had a shot of adrenaline and noradrenaline.

Are you okay?

“I’m fine.”

Is there anything I can do?

“Unless you can murder that colored witch, no.”

After another day of and a half of traveling, Hackmid and Slendy arrived at a bridge into a small hamlet. And as soon as they touched dirt...

“HI!” said a pink, crazy haired earth pony that probably had a shot of whatever Soft Touch put into the prisoners to help them talk.

Hi, thought Slendy, causing her to suddenly freeze faster than water in liquid nitrogen. After thirty seconds or so, Hackmid flew eye-level with the pony, and in the most genteel manner the situation would allow, slapped her.

“Ow!” she yelped. “Hey, that’s not nice.” Here hoof rubbed her red cheek.

Well, you did freeze.

With that, the pink pony froze again, necessitating the need of another very gentlemanly slap.

“Stop that!” she demanded.

“Then stop freezing!” Hackmid said. “Now-”

“I’m sorry. It’s just there is this voice in my head that says scary things like ‘eat them’ or ‘kill her,’ and every time I think like that I just freeze, and count to three, and sing to myself ‘te little de, I am a normal poneeeeeeee!’”

Hackmid slapped her again. “She’s the voice in your head.” He pointed to Slendy.

“Oh, you hear her too? Good, because I thought I was the only one to hear voices like that in my head. They get even stronger when I eat some of the ingredients that Mr. and Mrs. Cake keep down in the basement. Sometimes we eat it together and...”

Hackmid slapped her again. “I mean it literally!”

Wait, thought Slendy, I only talk in ponies’ heads?

“And griffons’.”

“And Pinkie’s!” To which she pulled a party cannon conveniently out of view of everyone and shoots it, causing Slendy and Hackmid to fly into a tree. “Oops. Too much gunpowder.”

“And you wonder why I hate ponies,” Hackmid said.

I don’t think I’m fond of them either. To which Pinkie froze.

“RUN!” Hackmid screamed, and the pair bolted for the nearest building. Hackmid slammed on it, then pulled the handle back and forth. Pinkie Pie simple blinked a few times, turned around, and bounced toward them. “Open, damn it!” But alas, the door was locked. He took one look back at the pink menace. “RUN!”

The pair dashed across the road, bumping ponies over, toppling carts, and making a cabbage vendor very angry. Soon, they found shelter in a store built like a gingerbread house. “Phew,” Hackmid puffed, “I think we are going...”

“HI!” Pinkie said as she popped from behind the counter.

“...RUN AGAIN!” Hackmid shouted. The pair bolted out the door, overturned two more fruit carts, plowed through a small orange pegasus on a scooter, and dived into the next available store, immediately closing the door.

Are they all insane?! asked Slendy.

“Each and every...” But his voice trailed off as he turned to the horror of vanities, frilly curtains, mannequin ponies, and an empty dias. “Elements have mercy,” he whispered to himself.

“Next time,” said a white unicorn, emerging from some dark backroom where those horrors must have been made, “you can just enter my...” She turned around and saw Hackmid. “Oh, my my! What a cute griffon we have here today. And how can little old Rarity help you, young griffon?”

“I’m not cute!” Hackmid snapped, “I’m just very small... And I’ve eaten ponies like you for breakfast.”

No

Rarity furrowed her eyebrows and stepped closer. “How did you do that?”

Do what?

“Talk to me telepathically? The only unicorn I’ve ever know to do that was Twilight Sparkle, and you don’t even have a horn!”

Hackmid rolled his eyes. “She’s special. Now could you-”

Rarity gasped. “You have no eyes, or mouth, or tail, or mane! Not even a cutie-mark to your flank, oh you poor thing.”

“Yeah, that’s great-” Hackmid tried to say.

“Don’t worry! We’ll find you the proper attire to cover up you blank flank. Here at The Carousel Boutique, we serve one and-”

“We’re not interested in your stupid cloths!” Hackmid shouted. “We came here because some psycho pink pony blasted us in a tree then chased us all over town.”

“Pinkie Pie?” Rarity said. “She’s harmless, except for that one time, but other than that, she loves meeting new ponies... and griffons.”

An even smaller version of Rarity stepped out of the abyssal backroom with a large rack of clothing in mouth. “Who’s at the...” she spat out the handle and stared deeply into the eyes of Hackmid. To her, it was if some mysterious fire lit within her heart, as if the Angelic Cloudsdallion Choir descended from the heavens to sing for them, and Celestia herself designed a sacred sunray just for this creation of masculine beauty.

“Crap,” Hackmid whispered when he felt the little unicorn’s hug.

“YOU ARE SO CUTE!” she barely made out. “My name is Sweetie Belle, what’s yours?”

“Get off me,” Hackmid deadpanned.

“I’ve never heard that name before, but I guess that’s just because you’re... foreign.” She almost drooled over the last word.

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

At that, Rarity levitated Sweetie Belle away from her newly beloved. “Sweetie Belle, How many times do I have to tell you, no flirting with the customers,” she said.

“But you do it all the time when Big Mac comes in, or Thunderlane, and with Berry Punch, but they never buy anything! You just take them in the back and-” Immediately a bolt of fabric found it’s way into Sweetie Belle’s mouth.

“I’m sorry you two. I’m sure you both know how hard it is to find good help these days.” Rarity turned back to her sister. “Now go do inventory,” Rarity said as she let Sweetie Bell down and kindly removed the rude bolt.

“This was a lot better job before you shoved me into inventory,” Sweetie Bell griped as the backroom returned her to the abyss of fabric.

“So what brings you two to Ponyville?” Rarity asked.

“I’m going to Canterlot to see my parents, and Mrs. Slendy is here to escort me.”

I thought we were... Slendy thought before a stiff griffon elbow stabbed her in the ribs.

“Sorry to tell you both this, but the next train leaves in the morning,” Rarity said as she peered into the setting sun outside a window. “You two can spend the night here.” Then after flipping her hair and a few bats of her unnaturally long eyebrows, she continued, “And I’m sure Sweetie and I can keep you two company over this long, cold, lonely night.”

That would be...

“We’ll be better off on our own for the night, thank you very much,” Hackmid cut in.

Rarity shrugged. “Suit yourself, darling. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” Then the disgusting spat of a unicorn went back upstairs to whatever abyss seamstress pony go to at night.

Why did you cut me off like that? Slendy asked, She only wanted to keep me company.

Hackmid faceclawed. “You really are clueless, aren’t you? She didn’t want to talk to you. She wanted to rub your rump!”

So?

Suddenly, Hackmid jumped up, flew inches from her face, and yelled, “You ponies are all a bunch of sick hole-fillers that would mount a tree if it promised you it wouldn’t give you a silver all over you sorry gut! I thought you were better than that, but of course, I was wrong!” He flew down, ripped a dress of its hanger, and made a quick nest. “My dad was right. All ponies are good for is eating.”

Hackmid turned his head, trying to fall asleep, even though Celestia’s damn sun still passed through the window.

I’m sorry. I didn’t know.

“That’s o.k.,” Hackmid said, “You’re just ignorant, that’s all.”

But why is it such a big deal? Slendy settled down, preparing to fall asleep as well.

“Well, in the Saxdan tribe, parents try to stick together to raise their kids, instead of having a loser fathers that plug and run. It’s what makes us the strongest tribe in Griffonia. That is until Celestia tried to buy our land. Every generation refused that tri-color tyrant until she made backroom deals with the other tribes to ‘unite the nation in the name of peace and tranquility,’” he said. “More like in the name of bits.

“Now because of that evil bitch, my mom is dead and my dad is in one of her dungeons. I would love to see her immortal heart in my claws, so I could eat it in front of her high and mighty face.”

I... I never knew.

“If ponies love anything, Slendy, it’s lies. Now let’s try to get some sleep. It’s going to be one hell of a day tomorrow.”