Chapter Two: Interrogations Suck

The room was dark, at least that's what Moonsong assumed. It was also small and damp. In one corner of it drop after drop of water fell to the floor. She'd counted the turns and steps that the other guards had led her through, tracking her progress through the labyrinthine structure. This was a small holding cell, not long term confinement. The only furnishing was a small table and a pair of mercilessly uncomfortable chairs. She leaned from side to side, scooting her rump around on the seat in search of comfort.

It shouldn't be physically possible, she mused, for a chair to be so uncomfortable. It was almost certainly by design, a way to break the prisoner before questioning. There was no effort whatsoever to match the contours of equine anatomy, merely a perfectly flat wooden slab.

The constant dripping of water continued, neither slowing down nor speeding up. Perfectly regular, one drip every three seconds. She'd been counting them since being left alone, or trying to. Two hours, forty-seven minutes. Three thousand, three hundred and forty drops. Counting drops of water and using them to track the passage of time got old very quickly. She had just lost count a few minutes later when the door rattled open.

Hoofsteps traced a path to the table, then stopped. The pattern was off somehow, perhaps due to some sort of injury. The chair slid across the stone floor, steel legs screeching. Moonsong winced at the noise, made all the worse by her unusually sensitive ears. The pony sat across from her, silent but for their breathing and the beating of their heart.

“Moonsong.” The voice was not one she recognized. It was that of an older stallion, deep and raspy. “I am agent Jet Black, Internal Affairs.” The air changed slightly, a subtle crackle of energy and the faint hum of particles being energized. Magic. Something dropped onto the table, paper by the sound it made. “I've reviewed your files. Test scores and performance evaluations are all excellent, no record of criminal activity. You are, by all accounts, an exemplary guard.”

“Your point, sir?” Moonsong asked, still shuffling in search of comfort. “This 'questioning' seems awfully light on the actual questions.”

“The point, Moonsong,” Agent Black replied, his voice carefully controlled, “Is that all of that makes your implication in this explosion all the more worrying.” He shuffled the papers before him. “Now, where were you at five fifteen this morning?”

“I was asleep.” The mare replied. “My alarm is set for six, and that's when I wake up.”

“I see.” the agent didn't sound terribly convinced. “Is there anypony who can confirm this story?”

“Well duh.” Moonsong snapped. “Just ask Breezy and Glimmer. They're my roommates, I'm sure it says that in your file there.” She was beginning to get annoyed. Did they seriously think she would set off a bomb?

“Ah yes.” He said, his magic once more humming to life. Two more stacks of paper dropped onto the table. “Midnight Breeze and Glimmer. I would very much like to question them, were it not for the fact that neither has been seen since shortly after the explosion.”

The silence that followed his words seemed endless as Moonsong struggle to comprehend what he had said. Agent Black merely sat across from her. She could practically feel his stare, boring into her.

“Breeze and Glimmer never reported to their assigned cell-block. They were last seen leaving the mess hall, along with another. As far as we can tell they just walked out and vanished into thin air.”

“So what does that mean for me?” the mare asked, growing more frustrated and confused. “You can’t just keep me locked up like this!”

“Actually, we can. Not only that, but we must.” The air filled with that intangible crackle of magic again, accompanied by the sounds of the files being swept aside. “Until we get to the bottom of this mystery, you are the only lead we have in our investigation. We have eyewitness accounts and photographic evidence placing either you or some identical twin we've no record of at the scene of the incident.”

“Yeah, and none of that stuff can be faked.” Moonsong snapped, sarcasm dripping from her words. “And there's no way anypony involved was mistaken or lying.”

“We are investigating that possibility.” the agent said, his voice infuriatingly calm and level. “As well as several others. Magical manipulation, impersonation, illusory magic. We cannot afford to write off any of these as an impossibility.”

She was practically raging at this point. She'd never once been late for her shift, never had a single conduct issue, no problems at all in her five years as a guard. Now, just because somepony who looked like her was in some way connected to a bombing she was being locked up like a criminal.

“I'm sorry to say this, officer Moonsong,” he continued unperturbed. “but until such a time as we are able to clear you of involvement in this crime you are to remain in custody.”

“What's the big deal anyway?” She asked, “It's not like there's anything in cell block seven anyways!”

“That is where you are wrong.” Agent Black's voice was calm, but Moonsong swore she heard something beneath that facade. “Cell block seven was a cover for the oldest and most secure section of Tartarus. Only the Princesses know who or what is imprisoned there, and they have yet to respond to our alert.” There it was again, that hidden emotion beneath the calm surface. She knew what it was now. Fear. “You will be escorted to a proper holding cell shortly.”

His chair scraped against the floor as he back away from the table. His hoofsteps moved away, pausing only to be replaced by the rattle of the door as it shut and the dry, final click of the lock.

“Well,” she said to the empty room. “this is a fun way to spend the day, isn't it?” She shuffled herself around again in a futile attempt to get more comfortable. The chair continued to deny her any respite.

Time passed slowly, as it tends to when one is removed from all contact with the outside world. Only the steady drip, drip, drip of the leak in the corner broke the silence.

While Moonsong was waiting in silence, Internal Affairs Special Agent Jet Black was striding briskly down a narrow corridor. Cell Block Seven loomed ahead, still littered with smoking piles of rubble.

Agent Black was, unlike almost every other pony employed in the Tartarus Complex, not a Stygian. A smoky gray unicorn whose mane and tail were stark white, he had been named for his most remarkable trait. One of his eyes was a clear and vibrant blue, while the other was a featureless sphere of gleaming obsidian. Rumors flew about its nature: that it was a birth defect, or an injury, or a magical prosthesis. The eye, along with the prosthetic left foreleg that gave him his distinctive stride, helped him to create and maintain his carefully managed reputation.

The guards parted before him as he passed, speaking in hushed whispers. The black cloak of his station flapped behind him, his cutie mark concealed in its shadows. He ducked beneath the yellow caution tape that bordered the field of rubble, taking in the devastation.

The cell block had been empty, that much was true. The real secret was buried deep beneath, at the bottom of the smoking hole opened by the blast. He thought back to what he'd told the suspect earlier. While it had been largely the truth, one lie stood out. Whatever secret lay at the bottom of this tomb was older even than the princesses, older than Canterlot, older than the very nation of Equestria.

The earliest unicorn settlers had discovered the pit mining for gems. From its very discovery it had been the subject of rumors and myths, a source of discomfort and fear to all who knew of its existence. Eventually the city of Canterlot had been constructed, a way to ensure that the pit would always be under supervision. The caverns had later been expanded, creating a vast network that honeycombed half the country. Tartarus, the underworld, home to those creatures so vile that they could never be allowed to see the light of day.

Jet thought back to some of the things he'd seen in his inspections. A cell filled with nearly tangible darkness, within which two eyes had glowed with an unspeakable light. A cage, dangling from the cave ceiling, in which countless insect-like creatures buzzed and swarmed. Worst of all was a cell like any other, containing what had seemed to be a perfectly normal filly. It was only when she'd turned his way that he saw what she was, a midnight black creature with a dagger-like horn and leathery wings whose eyes were filled with a terrible hatred. She had been bound with cruelly thick chains inscribed with glowing runes that hissed and smoked where they touched her coat.

Tartarus, simply put, was a place of cruelty. Necessary cruelty, in the name of that oh so commonly touted “Greater Good”, that allowed Equestria to survive. Most ponies couldn't tell, were unable to sense the flow of energy along the halls, but there was an even greater purpose behind this place. It was old magic, and dark. A spell that used arcane geometries in the prison's structure to channel the energy of the prisoners' suffering and despair into keeping whatever lurked down in that pit contained.

“Any new evidence?” He asked as he approached a cluster of guards. They had been talking animatedly, but grew quiet as he made his way to them.

“Nothing, Agent Black.” The commander replied, “Just the same pile of rock we've been combing through for the past three hours.”

“Well, let me know if you find anything.” Black growled. This whole mystery nonsense was quickly grating on his nerves. “Immediately.”

He drew in a breath to continue, but paused. A faint tingle of energy ran through his horn, a disturbance in the field that flowed through the prison. Somewhere, far off, another explosion rang out, and another. Dust fell as the ground shook. The tingle vanished, the energy dissipated, no longer flowing in its proper cycle. The vast and ancient spell circle was, after untold centuries, broken.

Deep in the pit, in a darkness unlike any other, something stirred. It was ancient, it was hungry, and after all this time it was awake.

In the holding cell, Moonsong felt the far-off explosions. She struggled against the shackle around her leg, desperate to get out there, to find out what was going on. In the hall outside, she could hear ponies running by, shouting at each other. The explosions had ceased, but a faint grinding rumble still filled the air. Sliding off the chair, she braced her rear hooves against the table leg and pushed. The table was heavy, not to mention bolted to the floor, and stubbornly refused to budge. The metal shackle dug painfully into her leg, chain creaking as she pulled on it. She threw herself against it with all her might, but to no avail. She relaxed, panting with exertion.

As she recovered, she heard something new. The door rattled against its frame. The hum of magic filled the air, followed by a rending screech of metal on stone. She sensed another presence in the room, gave out a quick chirp. A figure stood in the doorway. Hoofsteps crossed the floor, stopping right by her head.

“Stay still.” A soft voice whispered in her ear. She nodded.

The chain was stretched taut. The other pony moved slightly, heart racing and breath coming in quick gasps. That hum of magic grew, and with a sound Moonsong couldn't quite describe, hit its peak. The chain shattered, smoking shards of metal singing her coat.

“Run.” The voice whispered, “Run and don't look back.”

Hoofsteps retreated rapidly, pounding on the stone, and faded into the general chaos of noise. Moonsong was alone. Not knowing what else to do, she took the voice's advice. She ran. There was no rhyme or reason to her running, no mental map used to plan her route. She took turns at random, sending out a constant barrage of echolocating chirps. She ran on as the chaos faded into the background, as a new sound took dominance. A colossal turning, a rending and grinding cacophony. A deep and guttural snarl. She hear enchanted doors slamming shut behind her, great slabs of stone designed to completely seal off the prison in the event of an emergency.

She ran until her muscles screamed and her chest burned. When at last she stopped she stood on the verge of a great emptiness. A cool breeze blew, and there was a warmth on her face that she had never felt. She gulped and, afraid of what she might find but more afraid of not knowing, sent out a high pitched chirp. The echoes that returned painted a picture of a vast openness. She was outside of the caves. She was on the surface, for the first time in all her years. It was huge, enormous, completely overwhelming. Exhausted and terrified, she collapsed as the adrenaline wore off and the events of the day caught up with her. Her sleep was deep and dreamless.

Author's Note

So, here is chapter two.

This one came slowly at first, then faster, and the finally escalating to a simply dizzying pace.

That's kinda all I have to say right now. Hope you folks enjoy.