HOTLINE MARAMI

by sammo5000

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 3747

The phone calls keep coming, and Wire Short has no choice but to comply. Follow the path to the truth as Wire murders his way through Marami, one hit at a time.

Wire Short's life had been dull, an electrician and computer specialist being his primary line of work. Very bland. Very boring.

That is, until he started getting the messages on his answering machine. Now Wire has to comply with the caller's demands, investigating his situation while performing his 'tasks'.

It's a big mess, and Wire's going to have to spill blood for it.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-17 02:11:45 UTC

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE: Who am I?

My name is, uh... what is my name? I don’t remember it. Well, that doesn’t seem to be that important right now. The bigger question is 'Where am I?' It’s real dark, pitch black, and I’m sitting down on what feels like, a sofa?

Jeez, it’s hot in here, though. Almost like somepony turned on the heater. What’s that noise? It sounds like, a tune on a bass guitar? There’s a weird glow coming from under the door that the tune is coming from.

I guess I should check it out. I have my ear against the door now, and it sounds like there’s somepony in there. Maybe not even one person, but two or three, all conversing quietly. I’m gonna open the door and see what this is all about.

I’m looking inside the room now, and three figures, ponies are looking back. They’re sitting in chairs, and they each have a colored glow around them. Each of the ponies is wearing an animal mask, all different. I can’t distinguish their colors because of the bright lights around them. What is this? Am I in a dream?

The room itself is abysmal, in a state of decay and disorder, with the floor dirty and spattered with what might be blood, and the wallpaper peeling and falling off.

I can’t make out any color in the three ponies’ coats because of the light, though I can tell their race. The first, on the left, is a pegasus. It’s wearing a mask shaped like a fox’s face and a summer shirt. It’s chair is surrounded by a bright, yet soft blue glow.

“Well, look who it is,” The fox-mask pony says, “We haven’t seen you in a while, have you been alright?”

As I open my mouth to speak, the pony in the middle interrupts me. It’s an earth pony, wearing a mask shaped like a chicken’s head. I can vaguely tell the gender of this individual from body-shape, assuming it’s a stallion. The stallion is surrounded by a peering yellow light, not dissimilar to that of a street lamp. The light stains out the color of the letterman jacket he’s wearing.

The chicken-faced pony spoke, “I remember you, but do you remember me? I would hope so, you have been doing some terrible things lately.”

I sat, now confused when the final pony on the right cleared his throat and looked at me. Another stallion, by girth, and wearing a mask shaped like an owl, with large golden eyes. I could still feel the stare of disgust he’s throwing me even through his unfeeling mask. The sharp suit he’s wearing is tinted a violent red by the light surrounding him.

He starts to speak, “You again!? I never invited you back here!” His voice rose, “Why are you here?! You're no guest of mine! I hate you!” I could tell from the contempt in his voice that he was either scared of, or just did not care for my presence, even though I didn’t have a clue as to why.

Chicken-mask put a stopper in Owl’s rage, and started to talk to me again, “So you don’t remember me at all? That’s a shame, because I remember the day we first met. You remember that day, right?”

I was about to speak again when a force almost like a winch pulled me from the room into the black abyss behind me. Upon exiting the room I blacked out, and stayed that way for what seemed like a few hours when I awoke in another dark room, this one half-illuminated with a putrid green light.

Judging by the wall tiling I’d have to say it’s a bathroom, although dank and abandoned. Even though it’s dark, I can still see two doors on either side of the room, and the room itself is small as well.

A stench I can’t identify, possibly garbage, is entering my nose, as I notice two stallions with their legs chained to either side of the room. They’re in bad shape, and nervously looking around. I can make out tatters of the same suits that owl-mask was wearing, although badly torn and stained with blood.

Looking up I see an intercom speaker, and almost instantly after noticing it a blare perturbs my ears and a voice follows, “Ah, good to see you’re awake. I almost thought you were dead in there.”

The voice was definitely male, and had a deep undertone to it; familiar for some reason, but nopony I could recognize.

I looked up at the intercom when it started to blare again, “If you’re wondering where we are, I can’t tell you. I’ve only got one job here; and that’s to show you how to kill ponies.”

My heartbeat began to race. This kicked my thoughts into gear and I finally began to question what was going on.

I opened my mouth and started to speak in a shaky voice, “K-kill ponies? Why would I need to know how to do that?”

After a few seconds of sitting there, the voice piped up once more, “You’ll need to know, trust me.” The voice paused and then continued, “See those stallions over there? Yeah, the ones chained to the walls. They’re murderers, both of ‘em. Thirty-six innocent ponies between the two. I want you to kill them both.”

I sat in bewilderment at this voice’s ridiculous request. I could never hurt anypony, let alone kill them, and what was I supposed to do it with? My bare hooves?

Almost like he was reading my mind, the voice put in, “Yes, with your bare hooves. It’ll be easy. Just give ‘em a solid punch to the head, and once they’re down, jump on top and bash their skulls into the floor until they stop moving. You can’t leave until you do it, so take your time. I don’t care.”

I was contemplating my options at the time. Nopony would ever know that I had been the one to splatter blood all over my hooves, and they were cold-blooded killers, but their weakness was noticeable, and it made it that much harder to choose.

I moved slowly to the first stallion and used my calmest tone of voice, “I’m sorry.” I punched him square in the face and he predictably fell down. I figured he was almost out cold because I had hurt my own hoof knocking him down. Even still, before he began to right himself I moved over him, took a firm hold on the sides of his head, and began to slam it into the floor.

It was sickening, the noise his skull made as it shattered piece by piece against the tile. After what I believed to be seven or eight repetitions I stopped and let go. He was definitely dead. I was disgusted with myself as soon I rolled my eyes over what was left of his cranium. Splattered; all over the floor, walls, and me. Especially me.

“Good, now you’re getting it. Only one more to go.” The voice says in an encouraging way. “I’ll even make the kill easier on you: there’s a baseball bat in the room to your left. It’ll make dispatching the other guy much easier.”

I got up off of the first murderer’s cadaver and walked to the door in question. Lo and behold, a blood-soaked baseball bat was lying under the light of a dirty lamp. I picked it up and went back into the room.

The first homicide I had just committed softened the second I was about to do. The second stallion was cowering in fear, quickly glancing back and forth from me to the corpse of his death-mate.

I said nothing this time, and quickly struck his temple without remorse. This knocked the pony out cold and I wailed on his head with the bat. The face of the murderer-pony became that of mush.

The intercom blared, louder this time, “Great job! You’re a born killer!” No I’m not, I thought in vain of what I had just done, “I guess it’s time to let you go. No, we won’t talk again, you animal. I hope I never get to meet you in person!” The voice let out a chuckle before shutting off the intercom completely.

A pain suddenly struck me, like somepony had just smacked me clean in the forehead with the same bat that I was holding. I dropped the makeshift weapon, and fell.

I put my hooves over my face, keeling in agony as my vision blurred and swirled with the color of the room, and in that instant my sight went black and silence fell around me.

“I know you remember the day we first met.”

CHAPTER 1: Messages From Nopony

August 10th, 2013 - Marami, Equestria

BEEP BEEP BEEP!! My alarm clock shook me awake from my strange dream, and I promptly slammed my hoof on the snooze button, “Ugh, fuckin’ thing.” I sat up and stayed that way for a few minutes. Usually this time was saved to think about my life, something I adopted in high school.

My train of thought was one of those ones you have when you contemplate your life. Mine wasn’t that interesting; Wire Short, electrical technician. I guess it’s got some ring, I thought to myself. The job I was employed in had me biding time to tend to the electrical and digital needs of the citizens in Marami, one of Equestria's coastal hotspots . It wasn’t so bad, pretty cush, and it paid well, but holy hell was it boring. My day to day life mostly involved plugging in shit that had come loose outside, something that most homeowners failed to check on, that and fixing problems with obvious solutions on computers.

Nothing abnormal or interesting ever happened to me; just work, home, leisure, and sleep. Every day. I had no real reason to complain, it was just, boring.

Well I guess I should pull myself out of bed. It is Saturday after all, I thought to myself with some comfort. I figured I should at least try to enjoy myself this weekend.

I began my daily routine: first a nice hot shower to wake me up. Being a bit drowsy, I slumped my way to the bathroom. Turning to my left I saw my reflection in the mirror. A deep red coat, almost neon green eyes, and a healthy dark brown mane. I wasn’t too bad looking, not that I put it upon me to flaunt.

I opened the shower door, got inside and turned the knobs to my liking. The warm water felt wonderful running down my back, and eased my mind. After a thorough cleaning I dried off and went back to my bedroom. “Hmm, what should I wear?”, this might have been a strange question to anypony who wasn’t a fashionista. I loved to wear jackets, however, and my favorite one is this brown letterman I had received from Baltimare University after getting my masters in electrical engineering.

I pulled the coat over my hooves and back, and was about trot to the kitchen to rustle up some breakfast when I heard my answering machine beep, indicating new messages. I pushed the playback button expecting a work call, per the usual, but it was somepony else.

The voice that played was familiar, but I couldn’t decipher in my head exactly who it was, “Hi, this is The Bakery on 67th street, we’ve sent you those cookies you were supposed to deliver to 1226 Conning Cherry Avenue. They should be in a package outside your door.” Oh yeah, that package. I had received it earlier at around 6 in the morning, before I had gone back to bed, and didn’t bother to open it or even give it a second thought.

“Might as well see what kind of cookies they are.” I said, running a kitchen knife through the sealed packing tape. To my surprise, the box contained not cookies, but an odd rubber chicken mask and a note.

Setting the mask aside, I read the note:

GO TO THE ADDRESS IN THE MESSAGE.

WHEN YOU GET THERE, PUT ON THIS

MASK AND SEE TO IT THAT NOPONY INSIDE

THE BUILDING LIVES, AND THAT YOU

RETRIEVE A BRIEFCASE FROM A STALLION

WEARING A SUIT. WHEN YOU ARE DONE, TAKE

THE CASE TO 224 BUFFALO STREET, DOWN THE

BACK ALLEY AND THROW IT INTO THE DUMPSTER.

After I finished looking over the note, something clicked in my head. I was to go to that place and kill anyone inside. This is it, the excitement in my life has finally arrived. Not what I was expecting, but who can complain? It was strange how the urge to do what the message said was so compelling, with the instructions seared into my brain, “SEE TO IT THAT NOPONY LIVES”. I put the note down and put the mask into my jacket pocket.

The sun was barely rising over the Marami horizon when I stepped outside, warping the sky into various shades of hot pink and orange. Getting into my car I thought about this place where I was supposed to go, I don’t why, but the thing driving me to go this address and- kill everypony there was mystifying. I can’t tell what it is, but I need to figure it out.

Stopping my questionable thinking, I turned the key in the ignition and back out of the driveway.

8:36 AM, 1226 Conning Cherry Avenue

The building I pulled in front of was a set of offices, 2 stories of them. I guess this is the place, I thought. After getting out of the car, I stopped in front of the opaque glass doors. Don’t forget the mask, don’t want anypony seeing what you’re about to do. I took the rubber mask out of my jacket and pulled it over my head and mane. The eye-holes were recessed enough to provide me with decent vision, but not as to reveal my eyes themselves.

I sighed one last time, and recollected on my rapid stream of choices thus far. From electrician to murderer, it all happened so suddenly and not even a half an hour ago I had woken up with no notion to hurt anypony. Well, times change I guess.

I slammed the door to the lobby open, and noticed a beige unicorn stallion wearing a distinct sharp white suit, and it occurred to me exactly who I was killing. Mobsters, ones who had come from a distant place to get in on the drug trade here in Marami. News stories about their work were a constant here. They were violent and reckless, killing many innocent and destroying a lot of property in any area they were located. I hated their presence in my home-city with all of my well-being.

I wouldn’t feel bad about doing this.

The stallion gazed at me with a confused stare and in a foreign accent said, “Hey! Who are you? You’re not allowed to be in here!”

He was holding a lead pipe, a crude weapon, but effective at its blunt purpose. I charged full speed into my bewildered foe, knocking the pipe out of his levitation. As he recoiled from my headbutt, I brought down a hoof with all of my might onto the back of his head. The mobster fell face first and I jumped onto his back.

Before I began to actually kill him, I remembered the pipe he had dropped a moment ago. Looking to the left revealed its location, and I took it in between my hooves and raised it above me. It was strange how easy it was to do this, when I had no experience killing anything before. It was almost a natural feeling.

The stallion obviously knew what was about to happen, and began to rapidly plead for his life, “Wait! Please don’t kill m-” THWACK!!! His cry was stifled by the pipe smashing into the back of his skull, splitting it open and splattering blood on the facade at least 6 feet away.

He was still alive and attempting to crawl away, so I drove a few more blows into his head, and his brains were deposited on the wall opposite of me. I rose from his lifeless body and made my way to the door leading into the main offices, clenching the pipe I had obtained in my muzzle.

The building was clearly a front for drug trades, so there wouldn’t be any workers; only guards patrolling the halls. I carefully opened the door and peered around the corner to check for any mobsters. None were there, thankfully and I continued down the corridor. It was a small building so there were only a few rooms, most empty, but one I came across had glass windows, and inside were sitting four stallions playing cards under neon lights and listening to loud dance music.

I held back busting in the room immediately after I had noticed that they all had shotguns. Fuck, they’ll give the entrance guard a pipe and keep the guns to themselves?, I thought with contempt. I gave myself a second to scheme.

The plan I formulated on the spot seemed simple enough, just burst into the room, bust a head, grab a gun, and dispatch the other two.

Alright, 1, 2, 3!!! I threw open the door and barreled in furiously, striking the nearest mobster with a swift blow from the pipe. His head fell flat on the table and by the time one of the stallions got up, I had already shot the other with the first's pilfered shotgun.

Taking quick aim, I pulled the trigger and the last target’s head blew apart. Now that this floor was cleared I made haste to the elevator, where I assume this ‘boss’ pony was.

In the elevator I looked at the mirror-like wall; there I was, drenched in blood. I hadn't realized how threatening I looked until now, with a shotgun in my grip and the mask over my face.

I felt truly like a monster, and after seeing images of the gore I wrought flash in my mind the remorse began to bite me in the stomach. I lifted my disguise for a moment and vomit expelled from my mouth onto the elevator floor.

Regaining my balance and faculties, I pressed the button to open the automatic doors. I peeked out to make sure nopony was waiting for me and began to make my way to the boss’s office. Rounding a corner, I saw another mobster wearing a hot pink suit holding a crowbar in his mouth, and he noticed me immediately. With him lacking a ranged weapon, I attempted to strike first, only to learn that my swiped shotgun was empty! Fuck! I should have checked it!, I criticized to myself.

Seeing no other option, I made the decision to chuck the weapon at the approaching stallion. He must have not been expecting such a desperate move when he wore a look of bewilderment as the weapon pounded him in the face.

As if it was a rinse-and-repeat cycle of violence I threw myself over the downed criminal. I hesitated for a moment. No, I thought, These scum don’t deserve a quick death.  I raised my hoof again and again, throwing stomp after stomp down onto the mobster’s head. I was in a frenzy, I couldn’t be stopped.

I only let go of his dead, mangled body after twenty or so swings, although he had succumbed to shock after fourteen of them. I was still enraged, turning my vision a violent red, and I had gained a sudden bloodlust.

I sprinted through the halls taking every mobster that I saw’s life, leaving no survivors. Looking to my left I spotted the office where the boss would most definitely be cowering, waiting for me.

Making no pause, I forced the door open with my shoulder. The boss pony was up against the back wall, still clutching the briefcase I was to obtain. Making a quick scan over the room, a power drill had been left by a maintenancing vent by some careless work-pony. Helpful, I thought, imagining the possibilities.

The stallion I was staring down was rather obese, wearing a banana yellow jacket over his rust colored coat. He shook his head, and addressed me with the most stable, oppressive voice possible, “F-fuck you, you crazy bastard! If y-you want this case, you’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead muzzle!!”

No problem. I calmly took a few steps to the vent, and grabbed the drill in my mouth. The petrified stallion hadn’t moved his eyes from me, and crawled to a corner with an everlasting grip on the briefcase.

For a few seconds I simply stared at him, and I watched as my cold visage destroyed any nerve he had left.

No more stalling, time to get what I came for.

The butt of the tool made a solid THUNK on the boss’s temple, knocking him unconscious; nopony should be awake for this, even him; that, and the screaming might have alerted someone outside. Positioning the bit into his ear, I pulled the trigger. WHIIRRRR, BZZZHTHTHTTTZT. The sounds coming from the drill bit boring through the skull were almost excruciating to listen to as they were to see as the chunks of carnage and pieces of skull plastered themselves everywhere.

The mechanism jammed and the drill sputtered and died in a fit of smoke, still stuck inside the boss’s head. My first job was done. I picked myself up from the carcass and took the package in between my teeth.

Making quick strides to the elevator I had noticed that my mask was torn from taking a bat to the face. Closer observation revealed a large gash in my cheek, probably caused by that mobster with the ax, and I was furious with myself for letting it happen. Shutting up the pain, I exited the elevator and left the building through the back entrance.

I threw the case in the backseat of my car, revved up the engine, and skidded out of the driveway of the building. The cops’ll be on the place soon, I thought, They should be able to sort 'em out. My car’s radio read 9:27 AM. Time to drop off this case and head home.