Chapters Prologue - The Game Begins
Discord walked the winding and cluttered paths of the Canterlot garden and watched the cleaning staff pick up garbage that had accumulated from the ascension party for Princess Twilight Sparkle. The party was glorious, the most fun he had had in centuries.
He didn’t really count the fact he was stuck in a fun-lacking stone prison for a thousand years only a good few months ago. He preferred looking back upon his better days, had he been able to remember them. Which, of course, he couldn’t. Being a few thousand years old can do that to a person.
He had to sidestep over unconscious ponies, which were sprawled out all over the ground like discarded candy wrappers. The amount of hard cider that was passed around during the party made Discord tipsy even thinking about it. And, as it could plainly be observed, he was no stranger to alcohol or revelry. The party was so rowdy that all of Equestria would probably be feeling a nationwide hangover come the next morning.
Of course, if Twilight had her way, it wouldn’t have been fun at all. She tried to organize the candy mix by calorie content, and made the party activities each last 23 minutes exactly. Discord was one more book reading activity away from snapping his fingers and making every written page in a twenty mile radius turn into saltwater taffy.
Fortunately, the party finally became interesting once Twilight retired for the night, and handed the reigns of the party over to Pinkie Pie. As it could be plainly seen, the results of that decision were showing itself from the sheer amount of ponies laying unconscious all over the garden. The cleaning crew studiously swept the ponies into a large pile set near the path. Discord did not envy those that had to wake up on the bottom of that pile.
Discord wandered over to the edge of the hedge maze featured in the gardens, and extended his senses to encompass it. He could sense quite a few ponies wandering aimlessly through the leafy corridors, no doubt lost because they took a bet from their fellow drunken party guests to navigate the maze while hopelessly drunk. Discord reached out with his mind, and mentally nudged the tipsy equines onto the correct path to the exit of the maze.
He could have just as easily teleported them out of the maze, but mind meddling was his favorite power to perform, and the God of Chaos didn’t take kindly to being told he couldn’t do it, even if it was “morally wrong” , or “unsafe for pony minds” . He could do whatever he damned well please, he was infinitely more powerful than anything these pastel horses could even dream of.
Not that Discord was ungrateful to Twilight Sparkle and her friends for reforming him, far from it. They managed to rescue him from the worst of his madness, something he has carried within himself for far too long. He could still feel it there, writhing against the boundaries of the self control Fluttershy had taught him to maintain, trying to feel for a weak spot in his discipline. Discord shivered at the thought of having to deal with another thousand years of madness.
He unfurled his wings and launched himself over the maze, scanning over it to make sure that the lost ponies were on the track to the exit. Satisfied with what he saw, he then flew over the rest of the hedge maze and along to the statue garden situated nearby. He landed on all fours and sat right in front of where he had been sitting for the past few weeks that he has been freed.
His statue pedestal.
It was an odd sight in the garden otherwise full of regular, not-missing statues. A squat, Corinthian column made of the magically enchanted stone he was sealed in for thousands of years. Discord had been drawn towards it for many nights now, and the pillar’s foreign yet familiar aura subtly alluded to his forgotten past, tempting him to return there night after night. He conjured a cloth out of the void, and began polishing it. This was the only piece of his past that was left, and the world can burn before it takes even this away from him. This was the last bit of Discord’s past that the princesses haven’t scrubbed from the world, and he damned well won’t let anything take that away from him.
“You really shouldn’t be so stubborn, chaos god.”
Discord jumped a few feet into the air, and circled himself protectively around his column, searching for the source of the voice.
“Show yourself, shadowed one, so that I may see your face when I rip you apart, molecule by molecule! Nopony sneaks up on Discord! Not even Pinkie Pie! And believe me, she tries.”
Nopony jumped out from their hiding spot and cowered before his godhood, so he allowed himself to relax. Maybe he was just hearing things, after all. He really should just head over to Fluttershy’s cottage next chance that he gets, maybe something is wrong with his eardrums...
“Oh, I think not, chaos god. Do you not remember me?”
Discord whirled around again, and tried again to pin the voice to something he could see. Nothing unusual could be noted from the surrounding area. His shadow, on the other hand, was extremely unusual. It was slowly writhing around in agony. It drew itself up to Discord’s height, and seemed to gain substance in front of him. Two red and glowing eyes opened and stared at him, daring him to try and attack it.
Now that he knew what he was aiming at, Discord launched into the air and conjured a fireball. Aiming carefully, he lined up his throw with his shadow’s head. He was so putting this in his headshot count. Does a headshot on your own shadow truly count as a headshot? He shook his head. He didn’t quite know for certain, but he would probably find out later, maybe Twilight had something on headshot ethics in her library. For now, he had to focus on the shadow, which was slowly gaining form. It looked almost exactly like him, apart from the shadow part and the glowing red eyes.
With his target in his sights, he let loose the the fireball he was holding and it flew, without fail, straight into the the face of the shadow. The shadow, as expected, dissipated when the fireball hit it, exploding into a thousand particles. Discord would have liked to have left it there and was about to continue on with his early morning constitutional, but his plans were dashed when the particles started moving back into the form of his silhouette. It got up, brushed itself off, and began to speak in the same voice that was talking to him a few moments ago.
“Really, I don’t believe attacking me will do you any good. I’m here to help you, chaos god.”
Discord found that hard to believe. I’m pretty sure I’ve used the same schtick this guy is trying to use on me. I may as well play along. He drew himself to his full height and tried to look interested. “What do you have to offer me?”
“I can offer you lots of things, chaos god. What would you like?”
Ooh, he’s good. Discord pretended to ponder for a moment, but he knew exactly what he would ask.
“I want to remember my reign of chaos.”
“I was so hoping you would ask that. “
Discord knew what would happen next. The evil mastermind would barter a deal with him, he would refuse, and then the evil mastermind would try and silence him, most likely using imprisonment. A bit like those goody two-shoes princesses, actually...
“All you need to do…”
Here it goes. This chump is going to make me an offer. Did he not realise how experienced he was in the field of manipulation?
“... is hold still.”
Wait, what?
Discord barely had time to register what the shadowy apparition had said before it charged directly into his body . It didn’t tackle him, it dove into him, melting into his body. A cold shiver passed through his body. Well, this escalated quickly. I at least expected him to invite me to dinner before going inside me. Discord’s own humor was lost on him as the shadow exploded inside of his being, and he could feel the cold and slimy evil of this individual trying to turn his very essence to darkness. He tried to fight it, but it was no use. The power of this individual rivaled even his own level of magic, and Discord was a god .
Waves of shadow continued up his body. The chaos god was horribly reminded of how he was turned to stone for the first time. The slow, painful loss of control in his legs, the searing pain as his brain frantically sent commands to nonresponsive limbs, it was all there, drawn out in stark black and white, and all the shades of pain between it. The memory paralyzed Discord even further. A mocking laugh played in his head, obviously from the shadowy invader of his body.
“Oh, this is just too rich, chaos god. You seem so tense. Why don’t we lighten things up a bit? The *old you always liked a little bit of...
chaos.”
With that remark, the shadow made its way up to Discord’s head, and began to ebb away at Discord’s sanity. The draconequus was powerless. Come on, Discord, remember Fluttershy’s exercises. Breathe..
Find your happy place...
WHERE THE HELL IS MY HAPPY PLACE?! I’M BEING INVADED! REPEL ALL BOARDERS! FOR THE LOVE OF CELESTIA, REPEL ALL BOARDERS!
Discord’s sanity didn't last much longer beyond his panic. The last of his walls crumbled, and he crumpled down as well. He felt…
He felt….
Fantastic.
Discord was elated. He felt liberated . No more Mr. Nice Discord. That time was over, done with, ended. Equine conventions of warfare? Please. He was a GOD! Discord could not be stopped, not even by those blasted Elements of Harmony. He could take over the world!
Do not get too cocky, chaos god.
The aforementioned chaos god was startled yet again as the voice, this time playing out in his head, communicated with him.
“But why should I not be cocky? These pastel little freaks mean nothing next to me!”
No matter how much you deny it, chaos god, the Elements pose a significant threat to whatever you want to wreak upon Equestria. Might I suggest a course of action?
Discord had no reason to trust him, but he didn’t really care. He was free Discord, he could do whatever he damned well please! Hell, he could take over the entire country with a snap of his lion paw! However, those blasted Elements of Harmony would get in his way, and the chaos god could freely admit that.
“Why not turn the Elements into cheese?”
Because, you deluded imbecile, you cannot affect the Elements directly. No, we must alter the bearers.
Discord’s ear twitched. “Imbecile?”
Never mind that. I trust you know how to cross dimensions?
He nodded. Of course he did.
Good. Now, open a portal to Earth. I believe you are familiar with that place. I will give you your instructions upon arrival.
He scoffed, but nodded in affirmation to his request. Hell, why not? However, as Discord was preparing his magic to cross planes, he noted that the light was on at the window where Luna’s chamber was located, and he could see a telescope peering at him.
Perfect. All the better to put on a show with my dimension crossing. It really is quite spectacular.
He threw his arms out in a flourish, and began channeling his inner magic. When he felt the tongues of magical flame lick at his insides, he let it out, giving a roar for effect. The fire spread outwards for about an arm length before slowing to a stop. Discord then sucked in the flaming vortex, fashioning the fire into a blade and using the magical energy to pierce a hole between the planes. He enjoyed this next bit.
With yet another flourish, he reached into the cut, and pryed it open, viewing the majestic void that was the mortar between worlds. Diving into the portal, he then shut the doorway behind him with a click of his heels. The result of the air displaced from the portal snapping shut created a sharp crack , wakening some of the drunken ponies still laying about.
The chaos has just begun.
***
The snowy forest sank into silence as the fading noises of the battle retreated into the city. Having won the battle in the forest, the Allied troops managed to push the Germans out of the trenches and into the city. They were in retreat.
However, the victory took its toll on the wilderness. Anyone on the ground would have been almost choking on the leftover mustard gas, and been appalled at the sight before them. Broken bodies littered the ground, their equipment strewn about, a gruesome reminder of the chaos that took place not even an hour ago.
Within this desolate area, a single site stood out among the rest. It would be easy for the passing stranger to note that this place was where the majority of the battle occurred. The snowy trees that usually spotted the area were mowed down and replaced with muddy ruts in the ground, some deep enough to hide in. Bodies were even more frequent in this place, denoting areas where the struggle was the fiercest. Even more gruesome were the bodies that still had a spark of life, moaning their plight and bracing themselves for their final breath. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking the place lifeless, had they not seen two biplanes dicking about in the sunrise.
***
Kurtis didn't know how to proceed. On one hand, he still had Greg with him, but he wasn't terribly useful when fighting actually happens . And, on the other hand, Michael had told them to stay put, muttering something about ‘the last time you tried to do something productive’ and ‘dozens of lives on our side lost.’ Kurtis decided that he just wasn't going to contradict that, and let him go off on his own to defeat all the enemies ever. If Michael’s strength was half as powerful as his ego, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Not that Kurtis was complaining. The less dying at the hands of the enemy, the better. They weren't exactly the best of teams. He and Greg could work together fantastically, only if the task at hand was doing nothing. Which, fortunately, was the task they were performing at the time..
“Hey, Greg, see anything on the horizon?” Kurtis maneuvered his biplane over closer to Greg's so he could talk with him.
“Nothing to see. You know, I could get used to this spot. No fighting, and I get to make all the puns I can think of.”
“If you make a pun, I will kill you. It doesn't matter if we're on the same side, you will die, and you will die because I killed you.”
“Don't worry, there's nothing to com-plane about, we're all in this toge- Why are you aiming your gun at me?”
Kurtis was about to fire off a few rounds at Greg, at least enough to get him to shut up, when he got a sharp feeling in his gut. Something wasn't right. Someone else was here. Could it be Michael? No, Michael was long gone. It was someone else. Where could he be?
He turned to warn Greg, but a god awful sputtering sound interrupted him. From the clouds above came the most hideous biplane Kurtis had ever seen.
Every inch of it looked like it was patched up with cloth or metal, leading him to doubt that there was any of the original plane left. The engine was protesting loudly from the moisture it received from the clouds it passed through, and a small trail of smoke rose up from the edges of its cowling. Weapons of various sizes and descriptions decked the sides, some of them looking salvaged and useless, while others looked all too deadly. Kurtis swerved sharply to avoid its sights, and nearly crashed himself into a tree in his haste.
Greg, however, was not so lucky. With a very loud string of curses and insults, the recently entered biplane pilot took a gnarled old gatling gun, aimed directly at Greg’s propeller, and fired, completely forgetting the steering of his plane in the process. Greg went up in flames almost immediately, no match for the freakish weapon the assailant was wielding. The enemy then proceeded to fly through some branches, breaking the pilot from his tirade. With a freshly renewed stream of curses, he freed himself from the tree and scanned the sky above for Kurtis, who was busily hiding himself to no avail behind a cloud.
Kurtis barely managed to avoid the stream of bullets fired off by the crazed assailant. Shit, he found my ingenious hiding spot. Kurtis decided to assess the situation. Well, maybe I could just dodge him until he crashes. He doesn’t seem to be the sharpest spoon in the toolshed when it comes to flying.
His newfound plan solely focused in mind, Kurtis set off on his survival strategy. He climbed up into the sky, and stalled his engine. When he began his plummet towards the ground, he did a few spirals and pulled away just as the ground was getting dangerously close. He looked over to the enemy pilot, who was circling above, obviously dumbfounded.
High off of the success of his trick, Kurtis decided to perform a flip above the assailant, just to drive home how dazzling his dodging skills were. Fondling his control column yet again, he pushed his plane to the breaking point, locking it into a frontflip encircling the enemy’s plane. He looked over and made eye contact with the assailant, gloating his skill with his eyes. Just when the momentum threatened to tear his aircraft apart, he pulled out and flew away, slightly disoriented from the flip, but satisfied with the elegance in which he performed it.
However, the ground was unimpressed by his display, and showed no prejudice when Kurtis hit the ground and exploded all over it.
***
Patrick took a moment to compose himself after observing the idiocy of Kurtis’ death. In his opinion, flying into the ground should not be considered a legitimate strategy. Other than that, all went according to the plan. First, they kill off the two stragglers. As expected, they didn't put up much of a fight. Maybe with the next one, he would get an actual struggle. Patrick saw Michael fly off towards the city a short while before he came in to destroy the two of the amateur pilots. Michael would be the harder challenge. Arrogant as he was, he was an effective fighter when cornered. He would take a bit more effort than these two. Now he must wait for Austin’s signal to complete the next phase of the plan.
A few moments later, his signal arrived in the form of a line of bullet holes appearing in his left wing. Patrick looked up to the sky and saw his teammate. Was this his idea for a signal? The combined roars of the motors proved challenging as Patrick tried to yell at Austin over the racket.
“AUSTIN, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
“I’M GIVING YOU THE SIGNAL!”
“YOUR SIGNAL IS SHIT! WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE JUST YELLED AT ME? I’M GOING TO NEED ANOTHER PATCH TO PUT ON THIS.”
“YOU BRING UP A GOOD POINT, AND I RESPECTFULLY IGNORE IT. INITIATE STAGE TWO! BESIDES, YOUR PLANE IS TERRIBLE ANYWAY! I’M PRETTY SURE I IMPROVED IT!”
With his message made, Austin flew back up into the sky. He then hit his engine cowling with a wrench, causing a bright white smoke to flow out, making his plane resemble a small cloud. Austin then went back to watching, waiting for Patrick to perform stage two of his plan.
Fortunately for said plan, but unfortunately for Patrick, someone was drawn to the violent exchange of words, and, with a flash of gunpowder, Michael came down from the sky, guns blazing, with an arrogant look on his face to rival that of James Bond. Patrick managed to avoid the onslaught, but barely.
Austin’s tinny voice came over the radio Patrick had installed on his biplane. “Shit! He was supposed to be near the city! When did he get here? Oh well, the plan doesn’t change. Distract him, but this time try and see if you can lure him back to the city. Our entire plan hinges on his arrival.”
“Acknowledged, Austin.” Patrick was about to turn off the radio, but a thought hit him. “Wait just a god damn second. Why didn’t you use the radio to send the signal instead of shooting me?” However, Austin had already shut off his radio and was wholeheartedly hiding in his personal cloud. Making sure his outstretched middle finger was aimed at the right cloud, Patrick then turned his attention to Michael, and was surprised to see him diving towards him, carefully aiming a grenade his way.
Shit. Patrick rolled out of the way, letting the grenade strike and demolish a fallen tree. How am I going to get him near the city? The only way to do that is to…
Oh, damnit all.
Patrick looked over to the smoking city far on the horizon, then back to Michael.
All the way over there?
Sighing, Patrick looped around the newly shattered fallen tree and sped off towards the city, with Michael in hot pursuit.
***
From his personal little cloud up in the sky, Austin chuckled to himself as he watched Michael engage Patrick in combat. Everything is going according to plan. If he played his cards right, Austin could get both Michael and Patrick to die. His entire plan, however, hinged on neither of them killing the other until they both entered the city.
It didn’t look like he would have to wait too much longer. From his perch, Austin observed Michael beginning to strafe Patrick, guns blazing. Patrick was struggling to keep up under the fire, dodging under the treetops, and weaving his way between the trunks. Michael was circling above, trying to properly aim, but the leaves and branches were interfering with his shot.
By the erratic way Michael was flying, it was apparent that he was unhappy about being led around. Patrick, however, had no qualms about not dying to Michael, and hurriedly made his way to where the forest ended and the trenches began, the dividing line between the city and the forest.
Austin shot out of his exhaust cloud and began trailing them above, moving from cloud to cloud, carefully making sure he wasn't seen by either party. He was only here to make sure they both lived to the point where he can spring phase three. Michael, it seemed, had a different idea of how it should go. Without the trees, Michael had a clear shot on Patrick, and he was gearing up to put down Patrick with a stream of lead. Austin couldn't allow that to happen.
Picking up his wrench, Austin carefully aimed for Michael’s head, and threw it. After hearing a faint “SHIT, WHAT WAS THAT?” , Austin cackled and phased into a pillar of smoke produced by a smoldering tank, satisfied to see that Michael was now off of his focus, wildly searching around for his assailant. Patrick, seeing his opportunity, managed to escape into the city, giving Michael no choice but to follow him.
***
Meanwhile, Patrick was having a bad time. With Michael hot on his tail, he had little room to plan his next move. The city ruins below him offered little to no cover. And Austin was hiding above, his pitiful attempts at being stealthy obvious to both pilots. The fighting had died down on the ground, and the Allied soldiers were mopping up the last of the German forces. Most of the heavy artillery had moved out, except for a lone anti aircraft gun poised in the center of the town square. This is what Patrick needed to lead Michael to.
The loud crack of Michael’s machine gun interrupted Patrick’s plan, and he managed to pull up after almost crashing into the remains of a pre-war statue. Correcting his flight path, he began trying to lead Michael to the center, weaving his way around the remains of the fallen buildings and pile of rubble. Looking back, he saw Michael looming above, circling the block and trying to figure out what he was attempting to do.
Patrick dodged back and forth in the city, flying dangerously low above the remaining troops. The narrow streets and lampposts made a terrible path for Patrick to follow, but he would be annihilated if he dared fly above what was left of the rooftops. The soldiers shook their fists and cursed him as he drowned out their thoughts with his noise, and Michael cursed him because he wasn’t being a good little pilot by allowing Michael to kill him.
The only thing lying between Patrick and the AA gun was the crumbling market district. While dodging an angry soldier throwing rubble, Patrick looked down and noticed the newest bullet holes dotting the wings and fuselage of his plane. Shit, I don’t have much time left . He fired a few more curses off in Michael’s general direction, and promptly received tenfold in return.
Realizing he had no other choice in cover, Patrick dove near the soldiers he nearly bowled down, and allowed them to throw their refuse at him, the sawdust and exploded pieces of stool and expired meats further obscuring Michael’s aim on him. Patrick’s craft was soon cluttered with banana peels, raw beef, and other unspeakable garbage.
Patrick was only a hundred yards from the town square. His sweaty hands struggled to grip the yoke, his nervousness showing through. This wasn’t going according to the plan. From what Austin told him, Michael was supposed to be slower than this. It didn’t matter, though. Patrick was almost to the town square, he could see the AA turret warming up, and beginning to take aim. In fact, it had already locked on…
You know, that AA gun looks a bit like its aiming at me. I wonder wh-
Wait, SHIT!
***
Austin chuckled to himself again from his perch above the city as Patrick was ripped apart by a few rounds from the AA gun. This was simply perfect. The shrapnel from his explosion hit under Michael’s fuselage, sending his plane spiraling off over the town square. Righting himself, Michael flew over to observe his fallen adversary. Not much of him was left. Shooting the wrecking a few times for good measure, he then flew over and did a few loops around the AA gun, seemingly confused at the friendly fire. He flew around the market square, trying to find out who managed to steal his kill.
But Austin wasn’t going to leave any witnesses.
Quickly and silently, Austin descended from the clouds and made his way over to where Michael was circling the AA gun. Ever so slowly, he lined up his sights, balancing the yoke with his legs so he wouldn’t lose control of his plane.
Slowly…
Slowly….
Michael suddenly whipped his head around and sighted Austin’s attempted assassination attempt.
Shit, he saw me.
Austin had to duck to avoid the barrage of shots and the returned wrench that flew his way, all delivered with a snarl on Michael’s face, who did not appreciate being snuck up on. With a few extra curses, he tried to launch another barrage of bullets, but one thing stopped him.
His gun clicked. He was out of ammo.
Austin couldn’t believe his luck. He expected it to be harder to take him down. It seemed that Michael wasted all of his ammo trying to murder Patrick. Austin couldn’t blame him, though. Patrick is a very killable person. With a triumphant battle cry, Austin lunged forward, his rifle primed and ready to go.
Michael quickly turned tail and ran, flying back over the market district where Patrick’s still smouldering remains were lying, and around the edge of the city, desperately trying to outrun Austin’s guns. Austin couldn’t help but appreciate the irony in the situation. A man who prided himself on the chase was being chased himself! He couldn’t help but cackle at the prospect of ending his killstreak.
While he was distracted, Austin forgot the most essential part of his plan, which was killing Michael. While he was fantasizing his utter victory, Michael had managed to extract himself from the city, and was speeding off towards the area where Kurtis and Greg had died. Austin just smirked and leisurely followed him. Oh, he’s just postponing the inevitable. He can’t go too far.
With that thought etched in his mind, Austin went off after Michael, flying above the piles of rubble on his way out of the city. Scanning the horizon, he spotted Michael fast approaching the beginning of the nearby forest, where Patrick had killed his allies. Austin sped up to meet him, but he was too far off. Would he lose him?
Austin put on more speed, intent on not losing his kill. Michael had already reached where Kurtis and Greg had died, and was hurriedly trying to make his way to the other side. Austin wasn’t going to make it. Michael was crossing the edge of the forest, and was making his way across a river. Austin couldn’t catch him in time.
MAP BOUNDARY REACHED. TURN BACK NOW.
No, wait! I want that kill!
3
Austin could see the double take even from this distance as Michael realised his mistake.
2
He tried turning around, but his plane wasn’t responding.
1
Austin laid back in his cockpit, resentfully accepting the game taking his kill.
0
Michael lost all speed in midair, and began hovering, neither moving forward nor back. Slowly, he began breaking apart, piece by piece, until a thousand tiny particles dotted the air. The particles then shot out in different directions. The world then dissolved into wireframe, and a voice announced:
ALL BLUE TEAM MEMBERS KILLED. RED TEAM IS THE WINNER.
Austin’s plane was the only material thing remaining in the world, and he took the time to do a victory flip as his radio opened up to listen to the chatter of the dead players.
“AUSTIN YOU TEAMKILLING ASSHOLE. WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?”
“You would think that they would have bigger maps with these dogfight matches. This is the third time I died to that wall.”
“I didn’t die, I just went to a higher plane.”
“This is why we kill you first, Greg.”
With a lengthy and held out sigh, Austin flipped off the radio, and let himself be dissolved into a thousand little microscopic particles.
***
In the skybox, there was nothing. The round was over, the match was won, and there was no need for the map to still be running. Nothing remained from the match, and the game was silently waiting for the command to boot up another match.
However, a single pink floating cloud betrayed itself as not belonging to the nothingness. The game did not recognize nor see this object, failing to identify an object not of it’s software, nor even of this world. The cloud then condensed, and started forming the body of a draconequus.
Discord was happy. Discord was very happy. These humans are perfect for transport. My master will be most pleased. Yes, very pleased indeed. Discord snapped his fingers, and he himself exploded into a thousand tiny particles, fading into the skybox of the map.
Meanwhile, the five friends in question were bickering their hearts out in the game room, not realising they have proven themselves capable of bringing about the downfall of Equestria.
Chapter 01 - Beam Me Up, Discord
RED TEAM WINS
RED TEAM WINS!
RED TEAM WI-
“WHERE THE HELL IS THE MUTE SWITCH?”
I rolled over in my pod, trying to look around for something, anything to turn off the droning of the announcer. I didn’t need to be told that I lost, I perfectly well knew that. I already had the shame of dying to a map barrier, I didn’t want to have the game itself rubbing it in. I found the power switch hidden in the rubber seal of the hatch, and eagerly swatted it off. The game powered down and left the pod in darkness, letting me ponder my loss. I suppose I had some part in losing, along with my two so-called teammates . My friends and I weren’t really suited at all for teamwork.
I sighed. My friends. They didn’t seem too much like friends anymore. We were a very closely knit group of friends back in highschool.But, ever since we all got back together after college, something had changed. We each now had our own completely different interests and careers to take care of, and we were drifting farther and farther apart.
Austin, the guy that had chased me out of the map, had talked about setting up his own gaming studio back in high school. Surprisingly, he actually went and did it once he got his degree. Hell, his studio pretty much invented this arcade pod I’m sitting in, but one of his employees turned out to be a regular Benedict Arnold, and he sold the secret to Austin’s competitors, who took the idea and marketed it before Austin could get his idea out there enough for his own studio to be recognized for it. I find that a bit of a shame, his gaming pods were much roomier than these cramped little things. As the match has demonstrated, Austin still hasn’t quite gotten over the bitterness.
Patrick, Austin’s unlucky teammate, had been busy as well. Since I last saw him, he had managed to become a chemistry prodigy, get hired by a prestigious chemical technology company and turn a 25 square mile area in Oregon into a chemical wasteland that nothing would be able to grow in for the next thousand years. Needless to say, he has been fired from the company, and a guard was assigned to him by the government to make sure he doesn’t cause another catastrophe. He would have been imprisoned, but the government spends enough money as it was, and they didn't want to have to constantly replace pieces of the prison he broke while he was incarcerated there. They didn’t want to kill him either, since they didn’t know how radioactive his corpse would be from the Oregon incident. I kind of figured all of that would happen, really. I don’t know who had the lack of foresight to let him near anything that could violently explode. Patrick’s guard would have followed him to the arcade any other day, but, fortunately for our purposes, a recent event that may or not have been poison had left him passed out on Patrick’s toilet.
Patrick always was a fan of laxatives.
Kurtis had faded off of my radar for a while when he was attempting to pursue the career of his dreams. He claimed to have been one of the best in his occupation, but I didn't really want to check for myself.
I’m not in the business of watching male strippers. I simply don’t have the taste for it.
Fortunately for my innocence, a freakish pole accident left Kurtis mortally terrified of pole dancing as a profession. He has now instead taken up the mantle of an author, but his sci-fi fantasy books haven’t sold well at all. They’re awful. I don’t even know why he thought “Space Chimps from the Moon” was a good idea. He tries so desperately to keep up the deception of being a struggling sci-fi writer, but I’ve found out his dirty secret. He was actually a bestselling erotica author, and his books get ridiculously positive reviews. Of course, it isn’t like I’ve read any of them. I don’t read erotica. Never would, not in a million years. Nope, never. I just read the reviews. Definitely just the reviews.
No one knows what happened to Greg while we haven’t seen him. One day, he disappeared. No one knows where and why he went. A few years later, he showed up on Kurtis’ doorstep, clothed in a toga and lathered in motor oil. I’m mortified of asking what happened. However, his puns haven’t changed. They’re still as blood boiling and as terrible as before. God damn, I forgot how much I fucking hated those puns. He now lives with Kurtis in his apartment. Kurtis has told me that he always ducks under the furniture whenever a police siren sounds off nearby. That adds yet another reason to why I don’t want to know what happened to him. I’m probably already on a few watchlists just knowing his name.
I have done actually pretty well in my career as an actor. My height coupled with my natural sense of authority made me a perfect selection for many different performances on many different stages. I was so amazingly fantastic on all of those productions that I will be on all of those theatres’ good lists for years. Of course, none of those theatres are on Broadway, not yet. I haven’t yet gotten a callback from a single one of my Broadway auditions. I mean, I even baked them a cake shaped like my face, too! How could they say no to a face cake? Oh, and my friends often call me an arrogant bastard.
I don’t really know why, though. With my rugged good looks, modesty would be a crime.
We had all come to the arcade just to have a nice, soothing cooldown just to relax from a mind breaking week of work. I put off some auditions, Patrick poisoned his guard, and Kurtis put aside his “creative process”, all in the name of friendship and brotherhood.
All expectations of brotherhood and friendship went out the window when we all decided to play the plane game together in those tiny little pods.
We decided that since Austin developed the console he should be put on the smaller team, so it would be a bit more balanced for my side. And, for some reason, I decided Patrick and Austin would make a great team together. Obviously, I was completely and utterly wrong.
My exposition was interrupted when a knock on my pod dragged me back to reality. These video game pods were for the most part entirely designed to block out outside sound, so the gameplay experience could feel authentic. Nothing short of a hard knock, like the one tapping away insistently on my machine, could penetrate my little chamber.
The knocking rang again a few more times in my chamber, gowing in sound and intensity with each passing thump. Reluctantly I positioned myself so I could reach for the door handle, holding down the disengage button for my safety belt. I opened the door and climbed out, and noticed Kurtis standing right next to my pod with his arm outstretched as if he were about to knock on the pod again. Before I spoke to him, I took some time to examine the arcade room that I had climbed back into again.
The arcade was disgusting and greasy. The entire thing was housed in an old car manufacturing plant, and it looked like it was barely cleaned since it was refurbished. A tacky, 1980’s-esque carpet covered the floors, and some sections of the carpet were unraveling at parts, exposing the scuffed concrete below. The entire business was crammed onto the old manufacturing floor since the offices were taken by a bunch of telemarketing companies, making the place feel all the more cramped. The manager running the arcade devised the cunning strategy of just buying a bunch of simulation pods and jury rigging a quarter system to them. Not like many people even used quarters, nowadays. This arcade was probably too cheap to buy credit card scanners. No, we had to go retrieve quarters from the bank down the street in order to do anything here. Places like these just can’t keep up with the post-post-digital age. It’s the 2020’s, for fuck’s sake.
I snapped back to focusing on Kurtis when he started poking me for attention. He looked like he had something urgent to say.
“What is it, Kurtis?” I maintained a calm and serene face, trying to inject some grace into my stance after skillfully wriggling out of the pod like a lopsided slug. Those pods were small, especially for taller people like myself. Those things were nightmares.
“Well for one thing, I was wondering why you were lying down in that pod for so long,” Kurtis looked over me carefully, as if he suspected that he would find the answer on my body. “ but that really isn’t important now. Michael, we have a problem.”
Oh dear. If he wascoming to me with a problem, things must be terrible. “What happened?”
“They’re at it again.”
***
When I arrived at the antechamber of the arcade with Kurtis, I could tell something was off. Usually in the lobby there was a ticket exchange counter, where you could trade the tickets you got from the pods for various trinkets. There was also a snack machine in the corner, offering a menagerie of assorted decades old protein bars to the patrons of the arcade. I could see none of those things, or at least not in any recognizable form.
The entire room looked like a god damn war zone. Tables were overturned, protein bars lay uneaten upon the ground, and various stuffed animals were scattered about in various states of decay, ranging from slightly torn to I-can-hardly-recognize-it torn. I could see Austin taking cover behind the prize counter, apparently reloading a T-shirt cannon with the stuffed animals that weren’t already torn apart by his attack. Well, there’s one of the causes of this mess. Where could the other have go-
“YOU TEAMKILLING BASTARD! I’LL END YOU LIKE SCIENCE ENDED POLIO!”
Oh, there he is . From what I could observe, Patrick was dashing from table to table, angrily cursing Austin’s honor and family all the while doing so. His face suggested he was intent on ending Austin once and for all. It was nearly a perfect shade of magenta, his blonde hair was drooping over his face, and his beard was damp with perspiration. Austin was barely able to hold him back as he stormed closer and closer, flipping tables to shield himself from Austin’s smoking stuffed animal onslaught.
Meanwhile, Greg was off to the side. He looked fairly entertained.
If these two kept at it, the arcade wouldn’t last the hour. Already, Austin was running low on his stuffed animals. If those two got locked into hand-to-hand combat, the arcade wouldn’t last ten minutes. Patrick may be the stockier of the two, but Austin made up for that with his agility and pure stubborn grit. Knowing Austin, he would probably lead Patrick straight to the easily breakable objects in the room. It already looked like that fate occurred to the protein bar machine. It was apparent that Patrick had actually punched through the glass, grabbed a handful of protein bars and threw them across the room in hopes that they would hinder his victim. This spectacle needed to stop before they tore down the entire damn building . Kurtis probably has a plan. Why else would he bring me here?
I turned over to Kurtis, who was greedily examining one of the protein bars on the floor. “Kurtis, how do you plan on stopping this?”
“I don’t really know. I called you in here so I could take your bet. Right now,Greg and I are betting on Patrick. Austin may be quick, but he won’t be able to run from Patrick forever. Apparently Greg already has dibs on Austin’s left kidney.” Kurtis bent down, picked up one of the protein bars he was eyeing, and took a bite out of it. Realizing that they taste like shit dipped in more shit, he spat it out, and it landed directly on my jeans. Fucking fantastic. I’ll probably need a new pair of jeans. I’ll need to burn this pair. And Kurtis too, for that matter.
“I’m not betting on anyone or taking their kidneys. I kind of want them to survive.” I took one of the napkins lying about on the floor and tried to pry off the glob of protein bar stuck to my pants. The napkin then proceeded to stick to the glob of protein. That wasn’t going to come off either. “We need to figure out how we can get these two to stop fighting, not take bets. No matter how stupid those two seem, they are still our friends. I don’t want to clean up their remains.”
“Whatever, suit yourself. Speaking of the problem, I think it just got worse.” Kurtis pointed over to the fight. Patrick had broken Austin’s defences and had advanced to where Austin was hastily trying to stuff his last few stuffed animals into his cannon. Patrick picked him up, spit on him, and threw him across the room.
Austin flew across the room, trying to latch onto something, anything to save himself as he was launched yet another certain injury caused by Patrick. Fortunately, something was able to break his fall.
Unfortunately, the thing that broke his fall happened to be the arcade manager.
The arcade manager was a gross mockery of the human form. He was big, misshapen, and almost entirely drenched in grease. His hair must have thinned out decades ago, giving the sides of his head an almost Homer Simpson-like hairstyle. His stubble was never motivated enough to form a full beard, mirroring the man’s lack of will to improve his hygiene. He seemed to always wear the same tank top, day after day, same grease stains and all. I couldn’t help but cringe every time I looked at him, doubly so as I watched him struggle to get up. Currently, his ugly face was stretched into an emotion resembling wrath, though it could easily be mistaken for constipation.
Greg walked over to where Kurtis and I were standing. “Could I get my bet placed on the manager, instead?”
Austin looked up at the manager, decided that it wasn’t worth fighting him, and scrambled over to where Kurtis, Greg, and I were standing as well. “Hello, everyone! Hello Michael! You don’t look too good. Did you run into a map boundary on your way here?”
“Fuck you too, Austin.”
The manager finally managed to get up, and glanced around in awe at his shattered tables, machines, and counters. His body shook in rage as he reached near-Patrick level heights of anger himself. His beady eyes focused on Patrick, who was still glaring at Austin and taking offense at his refusal to die.
“WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FUCKING ARCADE, YOU BASTARD?” The manager’s quintuple chins trembled as he yelled at Patrick, his belly bouncing about to accentuate the wild gestures his flabby arms were making.
Patrick stood defiantly against the humanized Hutt. “I simply got rid of your disgusting protein bars. And some tables. And some other things.”
The manager’s pudgy face recoiled as if he were physically punched. His face shuffled through a variety of emotions, trying to decide which one it should attempt to mimic. Eventually, he settled on anger. “YOU ARE A…” –his tongue licked his lips as he struggled to pronounce the word he was trying to use – “...A LIUH-BILITY TO MY ARCADE!” The manager leaned back, smug that his big word usage had put the matter to rest.
“Liability? We’re your only customers. Your entire arcade is a liability to public safety!” Patrick bent down and picked up another of the protein bars, and waved it in the manager’s face. “This thing probably has E. Coli and other completely unmentionable diseases all over it!”
Kurtis looked down in horror at his tongue, took Greg’s shirt sleeve, and began trying to sand the surface off of his tongue. I looked down at the glob of protein bar on my pants, and I swore I saw it twitch.
The manager tried to look surprised. It wasn’t too hard to guess that he knew all about the shoddy quality of his food. “YOU DARE INSULT MY ARCADE?” He took a notepad out of his pocket, and scribbled a small little order. “This is a banning order. You can never enter my arcade ever again!” The manager threw the piece of paper at Patrick, and stormed back into his office.
“Congratulations! You have lost one of your five fucking patrons! You can’t kick me out! I’ll banish myself!” Patrick yelled after the manager, and glanced over to where we were standing. “Some fucking friends you guys are, too. Not sticking up for me? I’m disappointed.” With that, Patrick kicked open the doors to the arcade and stormed out.
Greg was the first to speak up. “So, who won the bet here? Do I still get Austin’s kidney?”
“Wait, my what ?”
I facepalmed. “Kurtis, can you get Greg out of here? I don’t really know how Greg wants to cash in on his bet.”
“Don’t worry Michael, I keep a scalpel in my pocket just for these edgy situations, not poking fun at the occasion, though.”
“Kurtis, get him out of here.”
Kurtis took Greg by the arm. “I got it.” He shoved one of the protein bars into Greg’s mouth, effectively gluing his teeth together for the next few hours. Kurtis led a reluctant Greg out of the door, leaving me and Austin alone in the decimated antechamber.
I broke through the silence. “Austin, I know how the whole corporate espionage thing can get you down, but do you really need to provoke Patrick into almost killing you and whatever is nearby every time you see him?”
Austin looked down and slumped. “I know, I’m just stressed. That should all change tonight, though.”
“So you’re still planning on doing that, eh? Is there anything I can do to stop you?” I rub my temples. He’s been talking about it for weeks. I really hope he doesn’t try it.
“I’m sorry, but I have to. My life has no meaning anymore, not since the espionage incident. That was my life’s work, Michael. Things need to change, and this is the only way I will be able to do that.”
I sigh. “Well, I can’t say anything else, then. Goodbye, Austin.”
“Goodbye, Michael.” Austin walked out of the door, leaving me alone in the annihilated arcade, wondering whether or not I’ve seen him alive for the last time.
***
Patrick stormed through the rain after his exit from the arcade. He was wandering about in the downtown sector, looking for something interesting to do since his friends had so rudely refused to back him up against that pig of a man. Why hadn’t they done anything? Has their friendship really deteriorated this far?
He continued along the sidewalk, lost in thought. The rain didn’t really bother him. He always enjoyed regular, non-acidic rain. It usually isn’t even radioactive, unlike many things in his life. Ever since the “Oregon Incident”, he hasn’t been able to piss normally. He’s had to put it in fucking lead containers to make sure the radiation didn’t cause someone cancer or something. The life of a mad scientist was a hard one, indeed.
Patrick was so wrapped up in his contemplation that he didn’t notice the figure that had stepped behind him until it began to speak.
“ Patrick Jenkins , I presume?”
Patrick whirled around and reached to grab the mysterious figure by the neck, but the figure was too quick, stepping back to avoid Patrick’s grasp. Furthermore, the timely dodge of the figure disrupted Patrick’s balance, causing him to fall squarely onto his ass.
“Who are you, and why do you know my name? I’m warning you, I can and will piss on you. It won’t be pretty.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last bit. My name is Disc- er, Dinsmore, yes, Dinsmore. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Jenkins. May I interest you in some forbidden knowledge?”
Patrick got up, dusted himself off, and examined the figure once forbidden knowledge was mentioned. The mention of the forbidden always piqued his interest. Dinsmore was tall, reaching at least six feet. He was clad in a trench coat and fedora, the fedora hiding all recognizable facial features. Yup, this guy looks like he would have some forbidden knowledge on him. That, or he could be a rapist. Now that I think about it, maybe I should keep walking…
Patrick couldn’t bring himself to pass up forbidden knowledge, however, be it given by a rapist or not. He looked Mr. Might-Be-A-Rapist in the spots where he would have his eyes had they not been covered, and motioned for him to continue.
“Ah, so you are interested. Allow me to hand you this artifact.” Dinsmore reached into his pocket, and, contrary to Patrick’s expectations, did not pull out a chloroform rag, instead pulling out a dusty old book. He shoved the book into Patrick’s hands and stared expectantly at him as the crazed scientist examined the tome.
The book was probably centuries old. Patrick was afraid that he might cause it to disintegrate by opening it. Five hexagonal gems were arranged on the cover in a pentagon, with a single gem embedded in the center. The title of the book, “Equinomicon”, was stamped upon the cover. Patrick looked up, and glared at Dinsmore.
“You’re not a magician, are you? If I had a nickel for every magician I’ve castrated,” --Patrick narrowed his eyes--”I’d have two nickels.”
Dinsmore’s eyes widened and he took a step back.
“Well, er, don’t go summoning everything at once! I would recommend the satanic circle on page fifty to start you off. It has some very interesting results. Well, it was nice meeting you, au revoir ! ” With his point made and book delivered, Dinsmore ran back into the alleyway he came from, leaving Patrick to wonder what just happened to him. Against his better judgement, he decided he was going to take the advice of the Not-Rapist and check out page 50 before throwing the book away. What a strange fellow, Patrick thought, he almost sounded a bit like Q. I wonder if he gets told that a lot…
Patrick shrugged off his mental wanderings, and made a beeline for the block his apartment complex was on. He had some work to do.
***
A candle dimly flickered in its magical grip as the light it radiated danced along the cavern walls. A single alicorn draped in a drab cloak stopped for a moment to steady her magic. The dim glow of the candle illuminated the runes carved into the limestone walls of the chamber, etched long ago by unicorn enchanters not wishing the room to be accessed by anyone wishing it harm. The alicorn could sense the magic pulsing just beneath the surface of the runes, gently casting a faint glow in response to the light it was receiving from the candle.
The alicorn gazed around the dark room, took a deep breath, and pressed her horn to one of the glyphs. The glow became brighter in response, making the candle nearly useless in its entirety. The alicorn set the candle down as the runes set along the circular room became brighter themselves, the magic of their enchantment being enhanced by the alicorn’s touch. Revelling in the illumination of the forgotten spells, the alicorn took hold of the cloak she was wearing with her magic and cast it off, laying it to rest next to the candlestick.
Princess Celestia looked around the now-lit chamber, examining the contents that were revealed by the golden light of the spells. A single pedestal sat in the middle of the room, seemingly carved out of the rock itself. Celestia muttered a few magical prayers to herself, strengthening the enchantment further. She could not risk any form of evil penetrating the chamber while she was performing the ceremony, especially that of Discord. She gripped the pedestal with her magic, and began channeling her spells into it to begin the ceremony.
Luna had burst into her bedroom chamber in the middle of the night a week ago and had quite rudely shoved her out of bed to tell her the news. Discord was gone. He was corrupted. He was out of control. She had failed . Her magic faltered. She had tried so hard to change him, make him see the magic of friendship. She even used her most powerful set of artifacts to try and benefit him. It seemed monsters like him could never be changed, not even by the Elements of Harmony. She shook her head. She shall not be corrupted by thoughts such as this, especially when she was conducting a fickle ritual like the one she was performing. With renewed resolve the alicorn channeled her might into the plinthe, causing a single gemstone to rise out of it.
The Heart of Canterlot.
It was brought here centuries ago, when the Unicorn Council fled from lands unknown to settle in Equestria. The location of it has been kept under wraps for generations. Not even Luna knew where the chamber lies, though she has had her suspicions of its existence. No, the only person that knew of its existence that was alive to visit it was Celestia. She came in this chamber only when she needed to check on the status of her nation. Discord’s reappearance meant that she also had to secure it, to make sure that he could never harm what the stone maintained.
The crystal finished its ascent and cast its glow, filling the confines of the chamber with a spectrum of light. It was multicolored, never settling on the same hue for more than a second. Celestia approached the crystal, cautious of the magical defenses that were surrounding the plinthe and making the air almost vibrate in its intensity. She took a deep breath, charged her magic, and pressed her horn to the stone. Celestia felt through its magic, probing the crystal for any magical tamperings. She could sense no foreign presences warping the crystal internally, so she wrapped up her probing and examined the crystal carefully for external warping. The gem, in addition to keeping Canterlot’s impossible physics in place, was also a sort physical manifestation of the level of chaos in Equestria. By examining how much it deviated from its usual dodecahedron frame, one could tell how badly Equestria was suffering from forces of chaotic intent.
It was then that she noticed a lump on the side of the crystal.
It was hardly noticeable, really. A slight bend in the normally perfect surface, only noticeable to a trained eye like Celestia’s. The slight imperfection, however, told Celestia all she needed to know.
Discord was planning something, and it was big enough to bend reality itself. She must move swiftly to counter his plans. She stepped out of the range of the plinthe holding the Heart, and reinstated the defensive enchantments, causing the Heart to shimmer back out of existence. She pressed her horn to one of the wall runes again, this time taking away the magic she gave it earlier. The glyphs were put out, one by one, until only the candle was casting any form of light. With a swift flourish, Celestia picked up the candle and draped the cloak back over her body with her magic. She had to send off a message to Twilight.
The Elements of Harmony might be the only thing able to stop the coming storm.
***
The fact that Patrick had been drawing a pentagram on the roof of his apartment complex for the past hour might have struck him as odd had he not been blinded by the promise of eldritch abominations and hidden knowledge. His quest for arcane secrets, seeded within him by Dinsmore, had led him to follow the man’s instructions to the letter, even going to far as to start off on the ritual he suggested.
He stepped back, charcoal in hand, and examined his handiwork. It was a rather simple design, really. All he had to do was start from the center, and draw six matching rays extending from that central point. The real problem that had puzzled Patrick, however, was the symmetricality of it. The dusty old tome that he had received told in painstaking detail what could happen to the performer of the ritual if the symbol was not absolutely perfect. Not that Patrick believed that bullshit, of course. He was a man of science.It was hard, but the reward was worth it. Patrick almost drooled at the implications of his actions, most unlike his usual logical self. Forbidden knowledge, stuff only hinted at in the dreams of the wildest scholars, would be all at his disposal! In the case of this specific symbol, all he had to do was spill goat’s blood over the glyph, mutter a prayer, and light a candle in the center of the circle. Then, a spirit of chaos would come forth and answer any requests within their power. Patrick had to word his requests carefully, however. Even the smallest loophole could be enough to hang himself. Patrick steadied himself and retrieved the goat blood he had collected from the local butcher. The look the butcher gave him when he asked for a bucket of goat meat, threw out the goat meat, and kept the blood from the cuts was one of the most confused looks he had ever been given, and he had caused the lot of confused looks. Gently, he poured the gory contents of the bucket over the symbol he drew, and placed the candle in the center of the puddle. With his chin pressed to his chest, he lit the candle and began to chant.
“ Chaotic Powers of the Night,
Visit me in Shaded light,
Gather round my candle's flame,
And impart to me your veiled secrets of shame”
Patrick chanted the mantra a couple more times, and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the ceremony. Very slowly, he peeled open his eyes to behold what had happened.
He saw a nearly burnt out candle in the middle of some congealing goat blood, but the ancient eldritch abomination was nowhere to be seen. He turned to his tome and looked at the chant. I said every single word correctly, Patrick thought, what did I do wrong? Was I actually tricked into performing magic? That Dinsmore character was a magician! I should have castrated him when I had the chance…
What Patrick did not notice, however, was the goat blood slowly starting to shift in a circle around the candle. When Patrick finished imagining his fantasy of Dinsmore being impaled on a stake, he looked down and saw the ritual taking place. Patrick yelped and hid behind a row of empty flower pots.
The blood sluggishly rotated around the candle and began eating away at the roofing of the apartment. Patrick scrambled back over to the ongoing ceremony and stared at the spectacle, watching the candle fall into the sinkhole he had created. If that blood ate through down to the apartments below, he would have a hell of a time explaining why it happened. The blood was eating a noticeably deep hole in the apartment, but Patrick had noticed something peculiar. By now, the hole should have reached the rooms below. However, it had instead been expanding out of Patrick’s line of sight. It was a hole, but it didn’t lead where it was supposed to lead. He could not see the bottom anymore.
He was forced to back away from the hole once again when he heard a rumbling sound coming from deep within. Something was coming up. He cleared the hole just in time to see a pillar of smoke shoot up from the hole into the sky. He was sure his escapade hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Patrick couldn’t really bring himself to care right now. The magician was right.
The smoke, instead of spreading out over the city like it would in any other normal situation, collapsed in on itself, and began coalescing and forming the shape of a dragon. Or, at least, something that resembled a dragon. The smoky form looked to be a bit like a platypus, seemingly assembled from the leftover parts of a butcher shop. The outlines of many different animal body parts came together to create this monstrosity. Patrick rubbed his hands together. Now this was an eldritch abomination. The smoky form opened it’s mouth, and spoke in a voice that Patrick could recognize all too easily.
“Ah, so you followed my advice and used the chaos summoning circle. Now we can begin.” The familiar voice of Dinsmore flowed from the apparition’s mouth. Patrick was flabberghasted. So this was where Mr. Most-Likely-a-Rapist would go for the rape.
I motherfucking knew it.
“Oh, you fucker. I should have suspected you all along. You’re a magician! Stay right there, I’ll go get my rusty hedge clippers for you. Prepare for castration!” Patrick rushed for the rows of pots, reaching for the hedge clipper that he stored under them for special occasions such as this. However, he wasn’t able to go far when Dinsmore sent smoky tendrils to lash him down.
“Let go of me, you magical fiend! I know your tricks! Magic doesn’t exist! AND NO MEANS NO ! ” Patrick struggled as Dinsmore laughed, tightening the unhappy scientist’s restraints and turning him around to face the shadowy form.
“There is no need for castration, my friend. I’m only here to help. You summoned me seeking to discover what has never been discovered by mankind, yes? Then allow me to assist you. I am the god of chaos, Disco-”
“I know who you are, Dinsmore! You can’t fool me anymore with your pseudonyms!” Patrick was still struggling against his bonds, but he had relaxed a slight degree, as if the very mentioning of the unmentionable calmed him. His shoulders slumped in defeat when he realised he couldn’t break free. “But, I am still interested in your wares. You say you know the unknowable?” Patrick saw Dinsmore smile in response to his inquiry.
“Why, of course! My good friend, I can teach you of elements that mankind has never even thought about discovering!” Dinsmore procured a contract and pen, and put them in front of Patrick. He loosened the restraints, causing the curious scientist to be quite rudely dropped onto the ground. Patrick picked up the pen and looked at the contract.
“What is this?”
“Oh, you know, just the usual liability papers, simple things. Just in case the knowledge kills you, you know. Forbidden knowledge tends to do that.”
“So a bit like a Terms of Service agreement?”
“Sure!”
“I’m not fucking reading this. Where do I sign?”
“Just sign right here, on the dotted line.”
“The one next to all those pictures of skulls and crossbones?”
“Yup, sign away!”
“Wait, is this written on human skin ?”
“Never you mind that. It’s not the contract you’re examining, after all. You wish to examine the never examined! You wish to know things that would make the minds of lesser men melt by even thinking of learning it! You don’t need the frivolous things. I mean, honestly, who cares what I print the contract on? It’s legally binding, either way. Take your time.”
Patrick picked up the pen, and with a flourish, signed on the dotted line. He then handed the paper back to Dinsmore.
Dinsmore glanced at the paper. “What in Tartarus is this wavy line supposed to be?”
“My name, of course!”
“Oh, I think I can see at least a few recognizable letters. Well, it’s good enough for me! Allow me to show you to your portal!” Dinsmore gestured to the goat blood pit that extended down into infinity. Patrick’s eyes widened.
“You don’t expect me to slide down there, do you?”
“No, I only need you to look over the edge. From there, you can observe the knowledge I told you about.”
“Ah, like this?” Patrick went down on his knees and gazed into the hole. The hole seemed to have no end in sight. He wondered if there even was an ending to it. “So, what elements will I learn about, Dinsmore?”
Discord smiled. “Well, you see there are six of them. A bit of a bundle deal, if you may. “
“Ooh, sounds promising. What are they called?”
Discord’s smile grew larger. “Oh, just the usual. They are Honesty, Kindness, Loyalty, Laughter, Generosity, and,” --Discord’s grin reached inhuman proportions-- “Magic.”
Patrick’s head snapped around “Wait, is this a fucking moral story?” His eyes bulged. “Wait, did you say MAGIC? ”
He tried to struggled back from the hole, but it was too late. Discord already had a foot resting on his back.
“While I would love to have you stick around and castrate me, I have some more errands to tend to. Allons-y , human!” Discord extended his leg, and pushed Patrick into the hole. Chuckling, he slithered over to the hole and looked down. He watched the retreating form that was Patrick as he fell down the hole, screaming curses all the way down.
“FUCK YOU, DINSMOREEEEEEE!”
*THUMP*
“One down, four to go.”
***
Greg would have been enjoying his evening had it not been for the tuba. He was simply reclining on a chair in the music room of Kurtis’ penthouse apartment when it started playing, all by itself. Greg didn’t even know why Kurtis even bought a tuba. He hasn’t touched it since he purchased it. Once Kurtis came into his mysterious fortune, he started buying the most frivolous of things, claiming it to be “vital for his creative process”. Greg didn’t even know what his creative process entailed, the only thing he wrote was shitty science fiction.
Maybe the mystery musician was a long dead wealthy tenant of the apartment. Do millionaire ghosts exist? I bet they would just brag about the boollions of cash they have. Heh. Greg shook his head and walked over to where the tuba was playing.
The tuba wasn’t even playing decently. It was playing a rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, if the symphony were to be played by a monkey with asthma. Greg didn’t quite know what he should do with it. Maybe he should get a muzzle for it, or put it outside.
The tuba kept playing. Greg went back to writing his life’s work, a novel composed entirely of puns. Maybe if he were to ignore it, it would go away. He waited…
And waited..
And waited…
But, the tuba didn’t stop. It kept playing it’s horrible rendition of Beethoven’s fifth, driving Greg to contemplate suicide. Maybe I should just confront it, Greg thought, maybe I can make the tuba see reason.
“Excuse me, Mr. Tuba, but I need you to be quiet, so I can resume my life’s work.”
Greg patiently waited for a response, but it seemed the tuba had no mercy on
him, and it continued to ruin a perfectly good song.
“If you continue, Mr. Tuba, I will be forced to seal you up with a tuba glue.”
“Oh for *GASP* fuck’s sake.”
Discord popped into existence behind the tuba, red in the face and wildly panting. “I am trying *GASP* to transport you here, you know. The least you could *GASP* do is not make puns.” Discord pressed his lips to the tuba, and drew in his breath. Greg felt the air in the room rush into the tuba, pulling him in. He struggled, but to no avail. He had one last thought before he was sucked into the tuba.
Well, this is just tubad.
***
The cold, unforgiving wind ripped through the air like a dull knife. The night was a cold one, a record low for the city. Pedestrians would find themselves drenched by the cold, bone-soaking downpour that poured down from the skies. They all skittered about, seeking asylum from awning to awning, porch to porch, trying to keep themselves the slightest bit comfortable on their way to their homes.
All except for one figure, who was standing at the top of one of the city’s many skyscrapers, contemplating the weight of the action he was about to perform. He swept back his soaked hair and looked down upon the populace, marvelling at their miniscule size from his perch atop a gargoyle.
Austin stood up, and doubted his resolve for the third time that evening, gripping the wing of the gargoyle to steady himself. He didn’t expect the weather to be that bad. When he planned this, he was expecting clearer skies, to add to the poetics of his actions. It didn’t really matter now, though. He dragged himself all the way up here, he had no reason to haul himself back down because he was too doubtful of himself.
Austin sighed, let go of the gargoyle’s wing, and allowed himself to fall off.
The winds screamed in Austin’s ear, a cry he ignored as he plummeted to the ground. Pedestrians looked up and stood stunned below him, and then started screaming. Others averted their eyes, not wanting to see his guaranteed to be gory fate on the sidewalks below.
Austin squinted his eyes shut. Just a few more yards. Any time now …
The world slowed down around him, and Austin was able to make eye contact with a small boy, maybe around six, who was staring with a look of horror on his face. Austin did a quick salute, and came to a stop almost at his eye level when the bungee cord reached its full extension. The kid screamed as Austin was snapped back up by the extended cord.
Austin let go of the tension in his body and relaxed. Ok, that was intense. I was kind of expecting it to break on me. Austin let his arms hang loose, and he allowed himself to enjoy his time. It felt as though he had fallen from the building without anything to catch him, and that he was willingly letting himself fall to the ground in a self-driven suicide. He shivered as the rain pounded and sliced at him. Maybe he shouldn’t have jumped in the rain.
Austin couldn’t have seen the shadowy apparition curling around the bungee cord, wielding a borrowed pair of rusty hedge clippers. Discord chuckled to himself, and, with a clean snip and a snicker, cut the cord.
Austin glanced to his left, and saw the cut end of his rope fall down past him as he reached the peak of his climb.
He panicked when he realised he was hurtling towards the ground without anything to save him. He closed his eyes, anticipating the end.
...And he lost consciousness.
***
Kurtis swished around the drink that he had ordered at one of the seedier bars in town. He glanced at the patrons, most of whom were trying to cover their faces while gulping down their questionable drinks. He had found this little dive while investigating for material for one of his previous books. He had returned here whenever he needed to escape from his public life and drown his melancholy in alcohol.
He motioned to the bartender, who slid down another drink. He caught the drink and peered at the suspicious objects swirling around in the glass. Kurtis was trying to drown out a bit of guilt. He knew he should have helped Patrick with the manager, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t do what he was supposed to do. Friends stick up for friends. If they stop doing that, are they no longer friends?
“You seem to be looking rather down, my friend. Care for a drink, on me?” Another patron sat down in a chair next to him. Kurtis put down his drink to appraise the figure, and to see if he looked like the kind of person who would make good on his offer. The figure was clothed in a trench coat and fedora, matching the traditional attire of most of the people who filtered through the bar. However, his voice seemed almost welcoming , assuring Kurtis that the man wasn’t a usual patron of the bar. He decided to talk to the man. Maybe he has some nice stories that I could make into a novel .
“Ok, I’ll bite. But, before you do that, could I get your name?”
“The name’s Dinsmore. Care telling me what has you down?” Dinsmore motioned for the bartender. “Waiter, can we get an Applejack Daniels over here?” He handed the drink to Kurtis.
“Well?”
“Well , it all started when my friends and I went over to the arcade to have fun together…”
***
My car coughed up another cloud of smoke from under its hood as I coaxed it to turn on with my sledgehammer. Satisfied with my hasty mechanical job, I pried open the rusted handle to the driver’s seat, and climbed in the car. The decayed leather seat creaked and groaned under my weight as I gently settled myself into it. I don’t want to fall through it, like I did with the passenger seat. I glanced over to the deformed springs that used to make up my passenger seat and shuddered. I did not want to experience that again.
Rummaging through the glove compartment, I pulled out my GPS, and suctioned it to the underside of my windshield. In this city, even if you were familiar with it, you could end up stumbling upon backroads you’ve never even known existed. It’s wise to keep a GPS on you, in case you end up on a one-way street and become forced to take an alternate route. I press the power button, and the GPS sparks to life. A feminine, British voice reverberated from within the device
“Hello, you’ve activated the ATMOS GPS navigation system. A new update is available. Do you wish to download?”
I arched my eyebrows. The model of GPS I use went out of service ten years ago. Why would it be updating this late past its decomission? Oh well, I thought, an update is an update. I held down the voice recognition button and spoke into the microphone.
“Yes, please download the update.”
The GPS menu screen disappeared, and was replaced by a progress bar trudging its way across the screen. “Ninety-five percent remaining.”
While the ATMOS was updating, I took the liberty of withdrawing into myself to think of the events of the evening.
Patrick’s telling off to the manager would probably get us banned from the place for good. We had some incidents there in the past, but nothing that big. I sighed. It was getting extremely difficult to establish a steady gathering place for the five of us. Whenever we got together somewhere, sooner or later someone would be fighting with someone else, and we end up destroying half of the area. Last time, it was between me and Kurtis. The time before, it was Greg and a pair of skis. I didn’t know how much longer I could put up with them.
I mean, I could acknowledge that we were all very good friends in high school. That can be freely admitted. We stood up for each other, and our shenanigans were almost legendary. But, we all moved on. We fought and we bickered. We changed. As much as I hated to admit it, we were no longer really suited to be friends anymore.
That thought scared me.
“Update 1.337 is complete. Would you like to plan your route?” The voice coming from the ATMOS startled me, as it was completely different from the one that I had usually heard. Instead of the female British accent that shipped with the system, I heard the sinister and mischievous voice of what sounded like an old fashioned supervillain. It must have been a part of the update.
“Yes. Plan route home.”
“Did you say, ‘Man the harpoons’?”
My palm sought out my face. The update didn’t seem to change the voice recognition errors.
“No. Plan route home.”
“Planning route home… Take the next left.”
I readily complied with the navigational device. I didn’t quite know the route home from here, and I’ve navigated home with the GPS on other occasions like this, so I had no reason to mistrust it. I cut over to the left, annoying the cars behind me, who gave me generous amounts of insults to both me and my family.
“Take the next right.”
The next right took me into a run down looking neighborhood. The only man walking along the sidewalk spotted me and took out a knife, flashing it menacingly in my direction. I took the hint and took the next right, following the guidance of the ATMOS.
“You have reached your destination.”
I looked around. This definitely wasn’t where my apartment was. The ATMOS had led me into a dead end alleyway. “ATMOS, plan a new route.”
“I’m sorry Michael; I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” The GPS had never referred to me by name before. “I’m sorry, but you have reached your final destination.”
A white gas sluggishly poured from the air vents into the driver area. I tried to unfasten my seatbelt, but the fastener wouldn’t budge. I held my breath as to not breathe in the noxious fumes, but the acrid stench of it pierced through my defenses. The edges of my vision were beginning to get fuzzy. I wouldn’t last much longer.
As I lost consciousness, I heard the mocking voice of the ATMOS one more time.
“Don’t worry Michael, when you wake up, you’ll feel simply f abulous. ”
Chapter 02 ~ Good Morning, Part 1
Austin dreamt that he was flying. An orchard spread out as far as his eyes could see them. The trees seemed oddly comforting, as if he had been here many times before. Which was strange, since Austin didn’t go outside of the city if he could help it. Being out here would have been strange had he not been flying.
He pulled his wings against his side, allowing gravity to pull him towards the ground. His flying skill startled him, he wouldn’t have thought that using wings would be a skill that he mastered. At the last second, he unfurled his wings and flapped furiously, relishing the sudden gust of wind ruffling his feathers. He felt satisfied. No one could bother him there, especially not those lawyers from Gayme Tek. Fuck those guys. He could practice in peace.
Practice? Austin didn’t know what he was practicing for or why, but a voice in his head urged him to do it. Do it for glory. Do it for your chance to shine. He didn’t want to go against the voice’s will, as that would probably end the dream, and he was having quite a bit of fun.
He fell into yet another dive, repeating the same maneuver he did only a few moments ago. He was really enjoying the feeling of the wind. Flying back up into the sky, he was amused to note that the field below him looked little more than a salad plate, filled with various shades of green like it was.
He loop-de-looped, revelling in his newfound skill. The same voice that spoke to him earlier told him that not many people could pull off the maneuvers he was performing, even though it came to him almost like second nature. You are special, it said, You are awesome.
Austin came to a realization that he was building up to something with his maneuvers. His wings were yearning for something, his brow was slick with sweat and furrowed with determination. He didn’t know what his body was planning, so his conscious mind decided to take a back seat and hand the reins over to instinct.
With a few strong wing beats, he found himself even higher. Austin slowed to a stop, and looked down. The orchard was almost out of sight. The voice was almost screaming at him, Do it now! Do it now!
Austin swallowed his trepidation, and began a dive towards the ground. He didn’t open his wings that time. He had an entirely different plan. The wind was screaming in his ears, and the air was desperately trying to hold him back. Small scraps of color played around his vision. Time slowed to a stop as he felt himself stretched out like a rubber band, and…
“Doctor, how is the patient?”
Wait, what?
“Her wounds are almost healed. She should be able to fly very soon. However, we had to give her quite a bit of medication to keep her from acting up overnight. She probably feels slightly disoriented.”
The dream shattered around Austin, the fragments scattered across the infinite of the cosmos. Instead of flying freely through the sky, he found himself smothered and sweating under a heavy blanket. He briefly considered trying to chase the receding dreams, but the details were already blurring and fading in his mind. He stirred, and tried to check his surroundings. However, his vision was blurred, so he could only make out colorful blurred dots scattered around his vision. They must be the medical staff.
It all came back to him. The rainy day, the bungee jumping, all of it. He especially remembered the abomination that cut his bungee cord. Even though he viewed it for only a brief moment, he couldn’t shake off the memory. An evil, calculating glare when it tried to figure out which fiber would make him fall faster if he were to cut it. A malevolent grin as its rusty hedge clippers found their mark. A cold, mirthless laugh as Austin fell to the ground.
It then occurred to Austin that his bungee jumping spectacle wasn’t exactly hidden . He did jump off of a building in the downtown, after all. Maybe someone saw the beast, and could point him in the right direction so he could take his revenge. Yes, that must be it, he mused, I’ll just ask these doctors about it.
“Mrmph Frrrmph.”
Much to Austin’s dismay, his ability to use words seemed to have fled him. Why was that? His mind went back to what the doctor said about him while he was stirring. She needed to be medicated overnight. Austin wasn’t a she.
Well, as far as he knew.
“Ah, she’s awake.”
There was that she again. Austin didn’t know why the doctors referred to him as a she, he would have assumed doctors would have methods of checking that. Maybe he was sharing a room with someone? He decided he would ask them for clarification.
“Krrmph Blrmph Frrrgh?”
“Alright, she definitely is. Nurse, hand me the syringe. We need to administer the painkiller for her wing.”
Austin stopped breathing. Syringe? As in, with needles? Needles? He opened his eyes a bit further, and his eyes immediate focused on the large, pointy needle attached to the end of the syringe. Nothing else mattered.
Austin shook. He was not going to let the needle pierce him.
In one swift movement, Austin threw off of the heavy hospital blanket and bowled over the doctor. After doing so, he struck a pose on top of him.
Or rather, that was what Austin would have liked to have happened. Instead, he tangled himself up in the blanket, and rolled over the doctor. Satisfied by the non-moving lump under his discarded blanket, Austin attempted to stand up, but promptly fell on all fours. Weird. Austin tried again, only to land on all fours again. The medication must have been more severe than he thought.
Come to think of it, Austin didn’t feel right at all. He couldn’t feel his fingers. He had a dull ache near his shoulderblades. Looking down, Austin noted that his skin color looked really off from his medication-addled perspective. Instead of any normal skin color, his skin seemed to be some kind of sky blue color. He needed to get off of these drugs, and fast.
In his stupor, Austin failed to notice the nurse on the other side of the room until a slam forced his attention to door on the other side of the room. The nurse was already gone.
Austin wobbled over to his bed, and tried headbutting the cot against the door with his head, since he was feeling uncomfortable with any form of bipedal movement. He was startled with how well he could handle himself on all four limbs. He never remembered any aptitude for it before.
His confusion was cut short yet again when an ear-piercing alarm shrieked nearby. It was doubtlessly the escaped nurse. He had to put aside his bodily confusion for now, a much more pressing problem had presented itself. The doctor under the blanket wiggled around a bit. Austin stomped on him. It was better to think in silence. Of course, the alarm didn't help anything at all. Combine that with the medication, and even walking in a straight line could prove impossible.
He eyed a blur on the opposite side of the room that looked an awful lot like a window. Hopefully it was, or the next phase of his plan would land him back in his hospital bed. Maybe I should stand for this. Yet again, Austin tried to stand on two feet, and yet again he fell. He whinnied in frustration.
Whinnying? I must be really delusional. I need to get out of here. He searched around the room for something to use to pry open what he hoped was a window, but he found nothing besides the cot, some medical equipment, and a certain non-responsive lump under the blanket. He would use the medical equipment, but it all looked expensive and really dangerous to handle. In addition, some of the items had needles laid out on them, and there wasn't a way in hell that he would touch those needles.
He heard a few subdued clicks coming from the door. They're trying to sneak in, eh? Well, they won't get anywhere with that cot against the do- The door started to swing open.
It was then that Austin realized that the door opened the other way.
Catching his breath, he turned to face the window. There was no other choice. He pawed the ground. He heard footsteps behind him. The nurses had broken in. It was strange that they weren't trying anything on him.
“Rainbow Dash? What are you doing? Get back in your cot. You're hurt.” A voice from behind him spoke up, no doubt trying to dissuade him from his plan of action by confusing him. I will not be confused!
He uttered his battle cry, and surged towards the window. The nurses tried to keep up with him, but he was too quick. Austin felt a shudder behind his shoulder blades, only to see that he was shooting across the room two feet off of the ground. What is going on today?
*CRASH *
An explosion of pain and a shower of drywall and masonry told Austin that the blur he thought was a window wasn't really a window. He gritted his teeth at the shards of masonry and splinters of wood now peppering his body. Oh well, a few extra battle scars wouldn't be too bad. I can say I got them from a fight with a bear. A really big, really mean bear. Made of bricks and drywall.
Austin blinked a few times, and realized his vision had cleared up considerably. He looked down, but immediately wished he hadn't. Somehow he had ended up suspended fifty feet above the ground. He craned his head around, and looked around to his back.
...
Wings. Huh.
…
OH GOD NO
The newly noticed wings locked up, probably because of the attention they were receiving. He tried throwing them open, haphazardly trying to recall the stunts he pulled while dreaming. He flailed wildly in an attempt to slow down his descent, but he ended up getting covered in leaves.
He hit the ground with a wet schlump and a scream of pain. Muscles he didn't even know he owned ached and throbbed. Remembering things you dreamed was really hard in high pressure situations.
Well, duh . He tried getting up, but the pain was too much to bear, and he collapsed back onto the ever-so-welcoming ground. Austin had a sinking feeling that he would be well acquainted with it in the next few hours. He sure as hell wouldn’t try flying again anytime soon.
He caught sight of a puddle a few feet away, and dragged himself over to it to get a drink of water. The water, though dirty, did a lot to moisten his mouth and calm him down. Satisfied, he opened his eyes and gazed upon his reflection.
His panic surged back to its previous levels.
Though it was battered, bruised, bleeding, bandaged, and covered in tree sap, there was something unmistakable about this face.
Suddenly, hospital breakouts and needles seemed to be the least of his problems. Currently, it seemed to be the rainbow maned, bright blue winged horse staring him back in his reflection.
***
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
Patrick was angry. No, he wasn’t angry. He was livid. How could any single word describe the way he was feeling? He was puppy-stranglingly, baby-kickingly upset. If there was a curse that encompassed all of the feelings that he was feeling at that current moment, the word would have been outlawed across civilization, and execution likely for anyone who even dared think it.
Why did he not trust his instincts? Why did he try to use magic? And why did he trust someone in a trench coat? That had to have been one of the tenets of modern society. If he has a trench coat on, don’t fucking trust him. Simple rule, really. But what did I do? I fucking trusted him.
It wasn’t really himself he blamed, though. Could he be blamed for attempting to pursue knowledge that no man had ever dared pursue before? Probably, but the real criminal here is Dinsmore.
Dinsmore. The very mentioning of his name sent a fresh shot of rage through his system. If I ever get my hedge clippers back, Patrick vowed, I will change his gender, and give him a heaping helping of Tetanus as a bonus. What Dinsmore had done to him was unforgivable.
For what Patrick saw in the reflection of a pail was the horse equivalent of Taylor Swift.
He didn’t know how to explain it, he couldn’t explain it. He was some kind of horse. It sure as hell wasn’t a normal horse. He had huge eyes and orange fur, for fuck’s sake. What kind of a normal horse had orange fur? He had a little Stetson hat on, too. He was the dream gift for every five year old spoiled brat that happened to live under the Missouri Compromise Line.
He rubbed his back legs together in anxiety, but stopped immediately. No. He rubbed his legs together a bit more. No, this can’t be happening. He looked down between his legs. They're gone. He frantically looked around the room, looking in vain for his genitals. They were nowhere to be found.
Dinsmore had beaten him to the punch.
He bowed his head, shaking with grief. He was going to miss them.
After a suitable period of mourning, he could build a hypothesis on where he was and why he was a horse. There had to be some scientific explanation for it. Nothing happens by magic.
Just then, Patrick felt an all-too familiar tingle in his bones. It felt almost as if years of his lifespan were being drawn out of him and dispersed into the world. He felt the power of the atom.
He felt radiation.
His troubles forgotten, Patrick began rifling around the rubbish in the barn, using the ache in his bones to play a sort of marco polo with it. If he got cancer, he was getting closer.
Eventually, Patrick found the source of the radiation. A barrel of weirdly multicolored apples lay behind some farming utensils. Patrick smiled. Jackpot. Laughing maniacally, he set to work.
***
Golden Oaks Library had always stood apart from the other buildings. Of course, a building made from a giant hollowed tree has a habit of standing out. Situated in the middle of Ponyville, it was considered a botanical marvel that a tree could survive having even a room carved into it, let alone a fully stocked library. That wasn’t really what made it odd to most ponies in town, though. It had a reputation around town for being a magnet for strange occurrences. One of the reasons for that could be plainly seen if one were to look into one of the library’s windows and observe the situation unfolding within.
“Alright Spike, if you’d set down those books over there, we can begin the field test!” An enthusiastic purple alicorn paraded into the library foyer, trailed closely by a very upset baby dragon.
“Just place them on my desk, we’ll deal with them very soon, don’t worry.” Spike sighed, and staggered over to the desk with a pile of books that dragons his age really shouldn’t be carrying. He gingerly placed the books on the table, and immediately scrambled away from it. After he was satisfied that the books wouldn’t fall, he turned to Twilight.
“Twilight, can’t this wait ‘till later? I got this letter, like, a week ago. It looks really important. ” Spike made to take a scroll out of his pocket, but Twilight brushed him off.
“Spike. I know it’s urgent, but I have been working on this spell since my coronation. If I don’t show results, what if the princesses become disappointed in me? What if they take away my wings? Can they even do that?” Spike rolled his eyes as Twilight slid into another one of her self doubtings. He would have thought becoming one of the most powerful species in existence would have alleviated a few of those doubts.
“Twilight, it’s only been a week since the coronation. Relax. I don’t think the princesses expect you to do this much so soon.” Spike frowned. “What is this spell supposed to do, anyway?”
“Ah, I thought you’d never ask!” Twilight’s mood backpedaled. One moment she was lying on the floor dejected, the next she was buzzing happily around the room, picking seemingly random books off of the shelves and placing them in the center of the room. Spike was suddenly aware of the gravity of the mistake he just committed.
“Now, you’ve probably seen my attention to neatness.” Spike scoffed, but Twilight either didn’t hear him or elected to ignore him. “Now, being neat takes up a lot of time. Usually, I would be okay with that. Who wouldn’t be okay with spending most of the day organizing books? However, the time I’m spending organizing books is severely cutting into my time making checklists. That isn’t okay, Spike. Instead, I have opted to create a spell to free up some of my spare time.”
By now, Twilight had made her way to the center of the room, and had unfurled her wings to make her spellcasting more interesting. Spike clearly wasn’t impressed, as he had taken to undoing the binding of a rather old looking tome to extract the jewels from the cover.
“Now, with the addition of new magic reserves given to me by the alicornization, spells like this are now possible. Now, books, prepare to meet your fate at the hands of the Poney Decimal System!” Fierce battle cry in place, Twilight channeled her magic into her horn, bringing it to a nearly bright white glow. An opaque purple sphere covered the stack of books, shielding it from view.
Thunder was heard outside, and Spike rushed to the window to see a dark, rolling vortex of clouds forming above the library. He silently crossed himself and hoped Twilight knew the extent of her powers. This could very well end badly.
By now the room was shaking, and Twilight was showing signs of overexertion, even though the spell had only just begun. Spike hung onto a table leg for dear life, and watched helplessly as books fell from their shelves, sprawling all over the floor and creating a mess almost unheard of in the library.
But, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The mini-hurricane surrounding the tree subsided, and Twilight collapsed onto the ground. The sphere lasted a little longer, but it too disappeared, leaving a neat pile of books amid the ankle deep ocean of fallen literature.
“Did… did it work?” Twilight barely managed to stand up. She wobbled over to the books, which Spike had been eagerly inspecting. Spike nodded.
“Yup, it worked great! All of the books are in alphabetical ord- Twilight, why are your eyes like that?”
“Al-Alphabetical?” Twilight’s eye twitched. Spike immediately scrambled backwards to the far side of the library. He knew the signs.
“U-Uh, yeah, alphabetical order. Are you ok, Twilight?” Spike only asked the question out of habit, anyone that was “ok” definitely wouldn’t be convulsing like Twilight was.
“NO!” The force of Twilight’s yell probably would have caught the attention of the neighbors had they not been used to her shenanigans.
“I am definitelynot okay, Spike! Do you see these books, Spike? These terrible, alphabetically organized books?” Spike was afraid to answer.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Spike had gradually made his way over to Twilight and attempted to comfort her. “A way to easily organize books?” Twilight smacked away his hand with her hoof.
“I wanted them organized, Spike. Alphabetically doesn’t cut it in a library! What if I wanted to look up a book about Starswirl? It could be titled, ‘The Amazing Adventures of Starswirl’, or ‘101 Facts about Starswirl the Bearded’s Beard’, or even ‘Chronicles of Starswirl’! How would I find all of those, Spike?” Twilight towered over Spike, her wings spread out in a hostile pose. He was thoroughly spooked.
“We don’t use the alphabetical system in a library. We use the Poney Decimal System. Much more efficient.” Twilight relaxed her wings, and slumped into a sitting pose. Spike took this opportunity to hesitantly lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Twilight. You’ll get the hang of it eventually, you always do.” Twilight lifted her head a bit and gave Spike a grateful glance.
“Thank you Spike, I needed that. Now, what was that letter you wanted to show me?”
Relieved at the opportunity to finally deliver his mail, Spike procured the document and presented it to Twilight. “Here you go! It has to be interesting, it has the Royal Seal!”
“THE ROYAL WHAT!?” Twilight immediately shot back up and snatched the scroll from Spike’s outstretched palms. “The Royal Seal? That means it from one of the princesses! Spike, why didn’t you hand this to me earlier!?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “You were kind of preoccupied…” However, Twilight paid him no mind as she read out the letter.
“Dear Princess Twilight,
I suppose I should call you Princess instead of Faithful Student now. The superb way you’ve handled yourself in every situation I’ve handed to you is remarkable. I chose well when I made you my student all those years ago.”
Twilight blushed a little and continued reading:
“But I digress. More important matters require attending to. I am more than certain you remember Discord, our friendly god of chaos. Unfortunately, he is no longer as friendly. We are under the assumption that he has made a full reversion back to his chaotic state. As it can plainly be assumed, that is unacceptable. I beseech you, please keep a wide eye open to watch for anything that looks chaotic in nature and intent.
We are also receiving reports that subtle parts of reality are breaking down near some of our frontier towns. Appleloosa has reported that a large percentage of their apple crop has turned into mangos. Even in Manehattan, we are receiving reports of dramatically increased chaotic outcomes in the Equestrian Market on Palisade Street.
I will keep in contact with you and will send a letter if I require your assistance at Canterlot.
Please be safe,
Celestia.”
Twilight looked up from the paper in shock. “Discord? After all we did for him, after all Fluttershy did for hi-” a shadow passed over her eyes.
“Oh. Fluttershy. We’d better tell her first. We can’t risk anyone else telling her the news before we do. Oh no, I don’t know how she’ll take it…” Twilight got up and beckoned Spike to follow her. She made her way out the door and made her way towards Fluttershy’s cottage.