The Next Conversion

   “Number 37 report to the Interview room!” The voice on the intercom said, shaking me awake. Sighing, I picked myself up and started to the door, checking myself to see if one of the freaks had stolen my things. I found everything there, but frankly they could have taken all the money to my name and I wouldn’t have cared but god forbid they touch my gun. As soon as I was sure I was out of anyone’s line of sight I took it out, my revolver was untouched and undamaged just as I had taken it from my home.

   I put her away before I stopped in front of a door marked ‘Interviews’. I opened the door and standing there was Sunny! I was startled to see such a renowned stallion in front of me, to us locals it was like meeting Walt Disney or Elvis! As I stood flabbergasted I let myself take in the whole visual of him. He was a completely orange equine with red eyes, no taller than the mare at the desk and he had (true to his name) a cutie mark of a cartoon-y sun.

   “Hi there!” He said in a voice matching one the likes of Barney Rubble. “I’m here to make sure YOU-” He said jabbing a hoof into my chest, “Have the best possible time!” He was energetic and consistently happy through my interview, thankfully asking nothing of my past except for my day of birth. The entire thing was surreal, I had met one of the local celebrities who proceeded to ask me about myself as if I was the one he couldn’t believe was in the room.

   After a good fifty questions he pushed me out telling me to head right and stop at room 13. He slammed the door on me before I could respond in any way and once more I was alone. I took his advice and started to the right. On the way to room thirteen they had hung up some odd paintings…

   One of them was a pony flying a kite in a rainstorm, dressed in colonial garbs and a powdered wig. Another was the same pony being hit by lightening, his powdered wig flying off and his clothing being torched as a result. The third of them was a close up of the pony, his body visibly scorched by the lightening, his clothing was set aflame, and he appeared to have swallowed his tongue.

   I wondered who would have set up such dark paintings in a building like this. A place full of kindness and loving staff with such a thing. I hoped I could try and coerce the lunatic who hung them up to take them down. I turned around to try and see them once again, hoping that I had simply misunderstood them, but when I turned the walls were lined with nothing.

   Did I just conjure them up? Am I just going mad?

   “Hey there!” A cheery voice said freaking me out. I quickly turned and reached for my revolver before I saw Happy. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I just like saying hi to new people!” Her namesake was presenting itself almost as an aura of joy. “My name’s Happy and I’m here to show you to your room!” She quickly started me pushing into the door, and into a hallway, this one was full of doorways each marked with roman numerals. “Here you are! Room number…13? I can’t figure out these weird things, I mean why do you people draw these things with Xs and Ls? I mean, I think those are Ls, I still haven’t figured out these-”

   It was at that moment she registered my glare as a sign to quiet herself.

“Here’s your room key, now go in and say hi to your room mate.” She left me to my room and started to mumble silently about how she wanted a nice person to escort for once. I felt a bit sorry for her and tried to call out to her. It was too late though as she was either ignoring me or out of earshot.

   I opened my door to find a man in a biker’s jacket standing on a chair shrieking. I scanned the room and found that a rather large spider had crawled onto a dresser next to his bed. I took my fist and slammed it onto the spider, killing it instantly and quieting the screaming man. A short pause followed and I turned to face him.

   “I… was singing.” He said, combing his hair back and smiling as if his lie had persuaded me.

“I had no clue men could be sopranos.” I said, a smile coming to my face as I tested if my razor wit was still sharp.

“So,” he said changing the subject, “My name is Bruce, what’s yours?”

   He pulled a switchblade and started toying with it, perhaps in a way to try and make himself seem like he was the bigger man in the room.

“My name’s Rick.” I said as I shut the door behind me and put my suitcase on the bed next to his. He seemed to be content with himself and put away his dagger, I took out my revolver and put it on the dresser chuckling as I imagined his face when he saw the gun.

   “Where’d you get THAT?” He said vocally impressed and jealous at the same time.

“Found it.” I lied, god knows I wasn’t about to tell HIM where I had truly gotten such a beauty. “When’s Lunch? I had a small breakfast.” I said changing the subject as subtly as a monster truck in a high school prom.

   It had been a week since I had first come here, nothing eventful happened. I had tried to find Sunny to apologize but she had apparently locked herself in the employees only area. I had tried for hours to get one of the security guards to get me a clearance pass, but just when I was about to get it…

“Johnson! Get over here!” His radio crackered and the man dashed to his cohorts position.

   I was going to go after him but then an alarm went off. I was blind sighted by a bunch of people and ponies dashing down the hallways to my position. I felt the hooves and shoes pummel me into the floor before someone helped me up.

   “You gotta be careful pal.” Bruce said picking me up from the floor. “Come on man we need to get to the safe room.”

“Why?” I asked as oblivious as I could be.

“The Human Liberation Front! They’re storming the place and trying to shut it down, and I don‘t know about you but I don‘t want to end up like Happy…”

   I was silent for a while, “What did they do to Happy?” I asked, angered.

“They took her man, kicking and screaming! I do not want to imagine-” he went on to describe what he had heard they did to HLF prisoners. Describing how each of the camps had different styles of execution, if you were lucky they would be sector 145; the one that would just put a bullet in your head with nothing fancy to it.

   “I’m going after her.” I said, suddenly filled with determination.

“What?!” He shouted full of concern.

“You heard me. I am not coming back until I bring her back. You’d best stay here and tell the others what I’m about to do.”

   “But dude that’s-” I began walking away before he could finish what he was saying. I was going to go save her, god knows I wouldn’t want small children to look at the sign and ask who the mare was to the unfortunate pony on duty.

   It was not an enjoyable feeling for anyone, for someone to ask about someone who is...

   “OY! We got a straggler!” A man with an obnoxious accent shouted from down the hall. His voice was filled with joy knowing he could add another notch in his weapon. I quickly ducked behind a corner as he came for me, hiding in a doorway until he passed. I quickly grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into the doorway.

   He began to put up a hell of a fight, stomping my feet, trying to bite my arm, etc. I searched the room for something to stop the struggling man for escaping my grip and getting his gun. I was in a locker room, perhaps by one of the women’s showers, the lockers were all about my size. His struggling persisted and he was able to head butt me causing me to lose my grip, but it didn’t matter I had found somewhere to imprison him. As he bolted towards the door and the gun he had dropped in the hallway I tackled him, slamming his skull into the floor.

   He laid dazed on the linoleum and even though he could have been unconscious I wasn’t taking that chance. I opened one of the lockers and shoved him inside, something I had learned to pick up on in my High School days. I closed the lock on him before he could respond, and tipped it over, door down, for good measure. As I heard his muffled shouts from under towels and through a few inches of metal I went outside.

   I was not sure if I had done the right thing by leaving him alive, but I always believed in karma and this was the perfect time to put that idea on the chopping block.

OOC: The second part, it was around this time I began to end up being more like the first story than I'd like to admit. Gunmen patrolling the halls of a government facility while a single man searches it for another. Here I introduce the main difference between George and Rick, that while George is open to killing Rick is mostly unwilling to finish off his opponents. I did this to give him something George didn't have: Humanity. You are most likely wondering what this has to do with the first story: the answer is little to nothing. A similar premise (Man is stuck in a facility filled with armed men) but that is about it. Not every sequel has to be 100% consistent, just look at the Mother franchise or Manhunt. The latter was my main 'inspiration' (see also: plagiarized source) for the first story but this one ends up swaying to a different source...