The Less That Glorious Return of That Guy!
The Warehouse sat on the edge of Equestrian territory, surrounded by mountains and raging rivers. Only one door gave entrance to the labyrinthine structure, and it was under constant guard. Nothing got in, or out, without the proper authorization.
Rumors flew about the contents of the building, and about its origin. They said it had been there since before anyone, even the Princesses, could remember. They said that all the most dangerous objects in the world were stored in its tremendous interior. The most common rumor was that, in a strange defiance of the laws of physics, it was much larger on the inside than its exterior should have allowed.
Safeguard paced through the warehouse, his hoofsteps echoing sharply off the stone floors. The beam of his flashlight cut through the gloom, glinting off of the countless metal fittings on the boxes that filled the facility. The midnight patrol was his favorite, quiet and uneventful. He wasn't about to complain about the generous pay either, or the benefits. Indeed, he quite liked his job.
His midnight reverie was broken by a distant sound. A regular thumping accompanied by what sounded like muffled speech, it was out of place in the otherwise silent warehouse. Safeguard made his way to the source, weaving through narrow gaps and around huge stacks of crates.
The source of the sound soon became apparent. One of the more recent drop-offs, a large crate with a label reading “Garlic. Just garlic. Nothing else, we promise. DO NOT OPEN” was rocking and rattling beneath those stacked above it. He approached carefully, never taking his eyes off of the crate.
“Hello?” He asked, tapping his flashlight against the crate. “Is there someone in there?”
The crate ceased moving, all sounds from within silenced in an instant.
“No.” A voice said, muffled but intelligible. “There is nothing in here but garlic. Can you not read?” The words dripped with sarcasm. “Now cease your mindless prattle and open this crate before I lose what little patience I yet retain.”
“I dunno,” Safeguard said, rubbing his chin. “You hear all kinds of weird stories about the stuff in these crates, and pretty much all of them end badly for the poor fools who open them up.”
“Release me from this accursed crate of vile garlic, and all of your grandest dreams shall be realized.” The voice said, in an accent that Safeguard had never heard before. “Anything in the whole world that you could ask for shall be yours.”
“Yeah, a lot of the stories start that way. It never ends well.” Safeguard leaned against the crate and began chewing on a toothpick.
“Great. Just great.” The voice sighed, “Of all the guards in all of this accursed nation, I get the one with a grain of common sense. I did not want to do this, but you have left me no choice.”
The crate rattled again, a relentless pounding issuing from within. A hoof-sized chunk of wood broke off and fell to the ground. His curiosity getting the better of him, Safeguard peered into the darkness within, and a glowing crimson eye stared out at him. The world seemed to vanish, consumed in that blood red eye, and the guard found himself moving. Hooves, no longer his own, reached up and released the latches on the crate. The front panel fell away, along with several reeking bundles of rotten garlic. In the darkness left behind, something moved.
A rush of ivory fur, a rustle of dark fabric, and the clatter of hooves on stone. A tall figure loomed over the spellbound guard, captivating him with its gaze. The shadowy pony stepped forward, harsh lights illuminating strong features framed by a lustrous black mane. He grinned, revealing two elongated fangs. Batlike wings enshrouded Safeguard, and he felt nothing save for the icy pain of those fangs slicing effortlessly through the skin and muscle of his neck.
The newspapers held no stories of note in the days following, for to do so would be to acknowledge something that, officially speaking, did not exist. There was no warehouse. There were certainly no guards employed there. And there most certainly was not a ruined crate reeking of garlic buried deep within the cavernous building, roped off with brilliant yellow caution tape as photographers snapped dozens of eight by ten inch color glossy photographs, labeling each with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back describing what it was. No, none of that ever happened, and none of those places or ponies ever existed.
Three Days Later
The following days had passed without incident in the town of Ponyville, or at least without incident beyond the normal. A town could only be brought to the brink of destruction and catastrophe so many times before it became routine. Sure, that hydra may have flattened a house or two. Sure it was on a direct course for city hall. Sure it had about forty-two heads, fangs dripping with deadly venom, tree-trunk legs crushing all in their way, but it would be gone soon. Either by Twilight Sparkle's magic or Fluttershy's uncanny way with animals, it would be coerced back into the bog it called home. Until then one merely had to avoid it and go about business as usual. It just so happened to be stomping through the market square during peak business hours, which was causing most of the vendors some minor aggravation.
“That'll be ten bits.” A white mare with a two-tone red mane said, scowling at the intruding monster. “Would you like a vase as well? Free of charge today only!” The proffered vase promptly fell to the ground and shattered, dislodged by the earth-shaking stomp of the hydra. Roseluck cursed under her breath and swept the broken glass into a dustpan. “Get them before they're gone!” She forced a grin and gestured at the half-empty shelf that had held several simple glass vases.
“Sure.” Her customer, a mint green unicorn whose cyan mane was striped with white, answered. “Let me help you with that.” Her horn flickered with energy, a similar glow wrapping around the flowers and a vase. Dropping the trimmed stems into the water, she levitated a stack of bits onto the counter and walked away, humming to herself.
Roseluck dumped the shards of glass into a trash can and settled back in at her stall. She watched the ponies pass by on their business. It was all...oddly peaceful. Wait. Why was it peaceful?
“You, vicious beast!” A voice rang out over the square. “What do you think you are doing, rampaging through the town in such an uncivilized manner?” It was a stallion's voice, rich and deep but with an odd accent Roseluck couldn't quite place. “Begone vith you, fiend! Back to the filthy svamp you dragged your pathetic hide out of!”
Roseluck looked at the mountainous beast, which was standing perfectly still. It's heads were lowered, cowering with fear at the pony who flew above it. A dark cloak swirled around him, carried in the wind from his wings. His eyes, even at such a distance, were almost frighteningly intense. They seemed to glow with an almost supernatural light, faint glimmers of which were reflected in the Hydra's more numerous ones.
“Vell?” He thundered, his glare intensifying. “Are you going to leave or must I force you?” He grinned fiercely as he spoke, and the already overcast day seemed to grow even darker.
Yelping like a kicked dog, the hydra turned its massive tail and ran as quickly as it could, not that that was saying much, back in the direction of the Everfree Forest.
“Ha!” The strange stallion laughed as he came in for a landing. “Such cowardice in a so-called predator! I have seen mice vith more courage!” He looked around at the crowd, who had resumed their daily routine. “Vhat is this? Vhy no cheering, no adulation, no 'Grand Hurrah'? Haff I not saved your village from certain destruction?”
When nopony bothered to answer, he lowered his head and kicked at the ground. Tossing his cloak around his shoulders, he trudged off toward a conveniently located dark alley. The path, by purest coincidence, took him directly past the battered booth of a certain florist. This certain florist, motivated by something she scarcely understood, took pity on the intimidating yet somehow amusing stallion.
“Here.” She said, holding out a flower to him. “Thanks for saving the town.” As he tucked the flower into a fold on his cloak, she took the opportunity to get a better look at him. His ivory coat was spotless, his jet black mane elegantly swept back. His gleaming red eyes were somehow both alluring and dangerous.
“Thank you my dear. I must say I vas expecting somevhat more in the vay of fanfare after such heroism.” He sighed. “So much for qvickly establishing a reputation in this village.”
“Don't take it personally,” said Roseluck. “It's just that this sort of thing happens a lot around here. If it's not a monster rampaging through the market, it's a rogue spirit of chaos going on a cider binge in the fields. We got a little tired of having a big party every time a complete and utter disaster was narrowly averted.” She shuddered briefly. “I'll never forget the day we had to tell Pinkie Pie we didn't need another party. Things got really weird, really fast. That pony scares me sometimes.”
“Vell,” The stallion began. “I'm a little bit disappointed that I vas not the celebrated hero of the town, but at least I got a chance to speak vith a lovely young mare.” He grinned, and Roseluck was nearly overpowered. Yet, as she recovered from near-swoon, she couldn't help but notice something off about his teeth. She tried to ask, but found herself unable.
“If you think flattery will get you more free flowers, you've been chatting up the wrong mare.” She said instead. “I mean, you haven't even introduced yourself. I'm Roseluck.” She held out a hoof.
“And I, my dear,” He replied, flashing that almost magical grin again as he bumped his own hoof against hers. “Am the Count.” Lightning flashed ominously in the sky as he spoke his name. Surely that was pure coincidence, and in no way suggestive of dark things to come. Surely.
Author's Note
So....yeah. After writing The Count Rises I wanted to do more with a vampire pony. Then I put it off, and off, and off some more. Then I wrote half of it and let the rest sit. And sit. And sit even more. Yeah, I'm a terrible procrastinator.
Anywho, here's hoping this thing gets off to a decent start!
Furthermore, I included and subsequently forgot about a song reference I put in here. See if y'all can spot it. I think there's only one, at least only one that was intentional.