Man behind the Mask

Chapters

Manipulated
Disoriented
Overwhelmed

Manipulated

Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep!
‘No. No, it’s too early for this…’ I tried my best to ignore the old alarm clock resting on the dirty nightstand next to me. I didn’t get to sleep until 2 A.M. last night, and I’d be damned if I was going to let this hunk of concentrated plastic and hate take what little sleep I was going to get. I tossed and turned in my sheets, hoping that just another layer of pillow would shut out th-

Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-bee-beep!
Right. Clocks don’t work that way. Real life sucks sometimes.
“Maaar…” I slurred, hoping against hope that if the shrill little bastard couldn’t wake my friend in the next bed over, I could. Somehow. I was tired, okay?
“Maaaaark!” No response. I don’t know why I thought that would work. He always was a heavy sleeper. ‘Time to scoot!’

BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-BEE-SLAM!!
‘Must…. resist… urge to…. throw...’ I restrained myself and settled back down in the sheets, mumbling just loud enough to let Mark know he’s a lazy prick. It took some tossing, turning, and other weird geometries, but somehow I managed to find the perfect position! I sank into the warm, soft sheets with a contented sigh. ’I’ll get up in an hour or two...’

The obnoxiously loud hotel telephone decided it had something to say about that. Swearing under my breath at my quite frankly typical luck, I struggled my way out of my cocoon and blindly groped for the bane of my existence for a few moments. Finally:

“What?!” A little rude perhaps, but what do you want from me? Normal people slept at that hour!

“Heeeey, buddy! Where the fuck are you?” I blinked in confusion and wiped some of the eye crust away. Sure enough, Mark’s bed was ruffled and empty, leaving only his irritatingly cheerful voice in my ear.

“Where the fuck am I? Where the fuck are you?”

“Saving your place in line, asshole! Are you still sleeping?” I grit my teeth and bit down the first five things to jump to my mind. I may not like mornings, but I wasn’t about to start off the morning by ripping his head off. At least not immediately, anyways.

“Yup! I’m still sleeping! Way to go, Mark! You’ve solved the case! Now we just have to wake me up, somehow!” So, I’m not perfect! Sue me!

“Yeah yeah, look, we don’t exactly have time for snarking right now. Are you coming or what?”

“Dude, it’s so early. Can’t I just come later?”

“No way! It’s not a real con experience if you’re not here for the whole thing! Get dressed and get your ass down here!”

“Mark… man, are the morning parts really that important?”

“.... Yes.” I could practically hear his practiced deadpan oozing through the phone. Resigning myself to the fact that my sleep for the day is done, I dragged myself out of bed with a sigh.

“Fine. Gimme ten minutes, and I’ll come down.” I fought the urge to yawn loudly, and started my mental routine for the morning.

“‘Ten minutes’ as in ten minutes? Or ‘ten minutes’ as in you’re going to take an hour to get ready like usual, princess?”

“Fuck you…”

“If you didn’t hole up in the bathroom like a god damned hermit twice a day, I wouldn’t be making fun of you. Now are you going get down here or what? ‘Cause if I’m stuck holding your ticket when the doors open I’m going in without you.”

“I’ll be there! Jesus!”

“What are you doing talking then?! Gogogogogogo--” SLAM! Maybe I was a little rough on the poor phone, but what could I say? I don’t like being rushed.

It didn’t take me long to finish brushing my teeth and my shower. Having a particularly disgusting bathroom probably helped. You know, the kind where you had to wear your sandals in the shower? I know it was a cheap place, but seriously? What sort of hotel couldn’t properly clean their restrooms?! Would it kill them to splurge on some cleaning supplies? Was some lemon-scented Pledge just too rich for their blood? Maybe some bleach? Honestly! So after desperately tip-toeing through the Bathroom of Horrors (™), I made my way to the closet of our dingy, brown room. The carpet wasn’t much cleaner, but I was just tired enough the previous night not to care. Now that I had a moment, I couldn’t help but grimace.

‘Better check the bags for bed bugs later.’

With an eager smile, I tore open the door of the closet! Inside, lovingly hung from the rack was the costume I’d spent four months preparing. It took $400 of trial and error, and countless hours of blood, sweat, and tears to craft this masterpiece! Admittedly, I never was very good at designing things on my own. If you gave me a blue, a green, and a yellow crayon and told me to draw a grassy meadow, I’d give you back a brown mess. If you squinted hard enough, it could be a sailboat. Or a mountain. The point is, I had no artistic flair to speak of. Now, give me a set of instructions, and I could build you whatever you wanted. Growing up with a ‘Do-it-yourself-handyman’ for a father had its perks, even if he did occasionally cause more damage than he fixed. His healthy interest in general craftsmanship guaranteed that a large assortment of tools was available in the house most of the time. It was that enthusiasm that shined in every careful stitch. The added bonus of having spent plenty of time with Dad working on this costume was certainly appreciated, too.

I’d never been to a convention before. I’d wanted to go as a Star Wars character, but honestly couldn’t choose between Jedi or Sith. So, I thought ‘Why not both?’. The Robes of Revan, as I’ve taken to calling them, were modeled after one of my favorite Star Wars characters ever.The eponymous force-user was an undeniable badass! Of course the costume was befitting his legacy!
A dark red tunic and black heavy linen pants made up the ‘underwear’ of the ensemble. A set of black robes covered the whole thing, secured by a dark red leather belt with silver-plated brass plating. A sash hung from beneath the belt between the legs. a black leather harness with a brass ring spray-painted silver helped hold the robe and a series of dyed leather satchels and pouches in place. The satchels hung from my hips and back, along the belt, along with a holster for Revan’s weapon. A dyed black leather cuirass adorned my chest, with a spray-painted dark-red brass plate strapped over the leather. Red leather gloves with spray-painted brass plating over the tops, with additional metal caps over the knuckles. Black knee-high leather boots, with segmented, painted brass greaves protected my feet, adding an intimidating ‘clomp’ to my steps. Finally, a hooded cloak as black as we could make it adorned the whole set, with black leather-backed metal pauldrons clasping it firmly to my shoulders.

In short, I looked and felt like I could take on an army. An oily, fingerprint-covered mirror hung from the closet door.

‘Lookin’ good, lookin’ good!’ I inspected every inch of my costume for lint or other imperfections, thankfully finding no flaw. My short, black hair hid perfectly under the hood, and my face had only a small amount of stubble. Enough to be rugged, but not enough to throw off the costume. A small frown marred my reflection. As much as I hated to admit it, my rather plain face and dull brown eyes detracted from the intimidation factor of the costume. At least the fact that my eyes were slightly bloodshot helped convey the darkness of the character.

‘This wouldn’t be a problem if I’d finished the FUCKING MASK!’ Sadly, the mask was the only portion of the costume I couldn’t finish in time. Having to restart the process halfway through certainly hadn’t helped. You simply couldn’t have a Revan costume without his mask. I figured I’d just have to deal with being a regular badass Jedi warlord.

After a minute of inspection, I opened the small pouch I kept in my suitcase. Inside was the polished steel object I was looking for. I pulled it out and marveled at the craftsmanship. A sleek, stainless steel frame encompassed a delicate glass lens. The ‘pommel’ was a slightly thicker cylinder, spray painted black, with thick glass rods running through it. An ergonomic grip gently sloped upwards (frankly much better than the canon designs, which must be hell on the hands!), the inset portion of the grip a glossy black. Finally three thick talons jutted out of the tip and curved inwards, towards where the blade would be.

A tight feeling welled up in my chest when I thought of all the work and love Dad put into the replica. A solid two weeks were sunk into its creation. A whole two weeks in which he refused to tell me what he was doing. I've always believed I had the best father in the world. Now the proof of that was slung snugly in its holster, against my rib cage.

The shrill telephone rang, breaking me out of my reverie. A heavy, gauntlet-ed hand shot directly to my hammering heart, and just like that, the spell was broken. A scowl on my face, I clomped over to the offending device.

“Hello?” I asked, just barely keeping the irritation out of my voice.

“Dude! What the fuck?!” My eyes widened.

“CRAP! SORRY! COMING!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Running down 5 flights of stairs and across the sun-baked street taught me two very important facts about my choice of costume. The first fact being that this costume kicks ass! I was turning heads from the moment I stepped out of the room. Obviously it had everything to do with my sweet costume, and nothing to do with the fact that I was sprinting like I had a pack of wolves at my heels. Probably. The second, and frankly more important, fact is that this shit is heavy! Leather and metal do not breathe well! By the time I reached Mark, I had a case of Swampy Back that made me want to skip every panel we planned to go to and scrub myself with every paper towel in the building. Firmly ignoring the cloth clinging to my skin, I found Mark waiting alone by the entrance of the convention’s main floor. Man, did he look pissed! Or, at least I think he did. It was hard to tell under the helmet.

Mark had always been as a big Star Wars fan as I am. So when he heard I was going as a Sith Lord, he dove at the chance to have a theme costume. Unlike me, however, Mark loved the non-Force users a bit more. Specifically, he chose to come as a Mandalorian. I had to admit, it turned out pretty good! Light leather plating with some leftover brass pieces from my costume made up his armor.Shaped plastic and foam made up his helmet and visor, with a large jetpack made from foam, plastic and duct tape. A replica vibroblade slung from his waist, and a homemade blaster rifle replica completed the illusion. As much as he’d like to deny that his costume was any Mandalorian in particular, I could see a bit of Jango Fett bleed into the style, even if it was much bulkier than the typical Fett.

I stopped to catch my breathe, hands on my knees and panting like a dog. Other people were streaming slowly in the doors, getting wristbands and their hands stamped. Several tired staff members took their tickets, occasionally handing out a pamphlet or a goodie bag. I could feel the signature Woosh (™) of the industrial air conditioners from here, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the hot sun. The line was much, much smaller than I’d anticipated, which probably meant that a majority of the people waiting to get in had already entered. I felt a gloved hand pull me up off the ground, and Mark’s bearded face peeked out from under his raised visor, impatience clearly played out across his features.

“You know, part of me wonders why I’m surprised at all. What took you so long?” I let a healthy amount of shame show on my face. Mark was sweating worse than I was, and it looked like he’d been standing in the sun for quite some time. Most importantly, he was standing away from the line. ‘Wasn’t he waiting for a couple hours?’

“Sorry, dude. I lost track of time.”

“Shocking… I had to get out of line for you, you know?

“What happened to going in without me?”

“I was fucking around. It’s your first time, brother, I’m not leaving you behind. It’s fucking pointless.”

“Yeah, but you like this shit waaaay more than I do. I’m new, man. I’m not missing anything!” He sighed and shook his head.

“No, no… You’re new. You’ve been missing everything! C’mon, cons are the best! You need to experience this at least once. I wasn’t going to go in there without you.”

“What if I just said ‘Fuck it” and didn’t show up?” He gave me a look that oozed skepticism.

“Okay, no. I knew for a fucking fact that you weren’t going to ditch me. One, you’d never do that to me. Two, You spent waaaay too much making the damn costume and driving our asses up here. There’s no way you’d let that go to waste. Finally, Three. You’re really going to tell me you’d rather spend the day in that grimy fucking room rather than out here?” Had to hand it to him, he had a point.

“YYyyyyeaaaah, good point. Still, dude, I feel bad that you waited for me.”

“Pfft, what’s the point of my even being here if you’re not here? I’d rather pack up and go home that go in without you, buddy.” I had to focus to keep from sighing. I wasn’t about to let Mark pass up on something he’d been dying over for months, even if he seemed hellbent on living a life of self-sacrifice. Apparently, I didn’t keep a straight enough face, because Mark smiled and said:

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, man. You’re here now, and that’s what’s important. C’mon! Let’s start your FIRST! CON! EVER!” ‘Oh dear God, he actually posed.’ Even the people waiting in line tried their hardest to avoid eye contact with that moment. Finally, I decided to leave him in that position, and started walking towards the back of the line.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?” I turned back to him, confused.

“I’m… gettting in line? We have to get in right?”

“No no no! Fuck that! I was already here, at the front!”

“Y-... Yeah? But you had to get out. So…?”

“Yeah, no. I’m not starting over just because you couldn’t get your ass out of bed.”

“I… umm… Okay, Mark? Let me explain to you how lines work. You se--”

“Just shut up and follow my lead…” Mark started walking back towards the entrance, making a show of holding a conversation with me. After a few seconds of small talk, he darts his head to the right, slightly behind the line.

“Holy shit, dude, look at that Valentine cosplay!” Yeah, I knew this song and dance, it had Mark written all over it. If he thought it was going to work, though, he was sadly mistaken. Still:

“Oh shit, really? Where?” I asked. Mark pointed in a random direction.”Daaaaamn!”

'Un-fucking-believable.' To my utter bafflement, the people closest to the entrance actually looked back! Before I could voice my confusion, Mark grabbed my arm and started pulling me back, loudly commenting, “Dat ass tho!”. Several of the people in line noticed us, but we were inside before they could voice their displeasure. The lady who took our tickets gave us a rather dirty look before she handed us our wristbands, but otherwise made no attempt to punish us. ‘Guess they’re too tired to handle it.’

Inside was… How could I describe it? This place was nerd heaven! A large cutout of the headliner for today’s high profile panel loomed over the entrance, suspended by nylon ropes with a banner underneath. Some big shot comic writer that I didn’t recognize, but evidently was important enough to rate a giant cardboard face to creep out anyone who entered the area. Banners and posters of every color and shape were slapped on to the walls. Were it not for the care that each article was hung, I’d almost believe it was done randomly. The heavy-duty industrial air conditioning was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside. Skylights illuminated most of the room, with lights in the ceiling picking up the slack. Each booth seemed to have its own system of blinky, cheerful lights. Perhaps to attract attention, though the effect was likely ruined with every other booth reciprocating. The room itself was massive, an auditorium filled to the brim with booths and tables showcasing merchandise of all kinds. Some sold large, ornate items. Others were staffed with various minor celebrities, who offered autographs or simply wanted to meet their fans. A veritable horde of people swamped the floor, the largest groups taking up whole tables, shifting and migrating like herds. Each group had a smattering of colorful costumes from dozens of franchises. Some I could recognize, while the nature of other costumes eluded me. Some were as elaborate and expensive as my own, while others were as simple as body paint and cardboard. However, nearly everyone bore an expression of excitement and joy for attending this rare event.

Mark lead me around the main hall and into one of the many hallways that lead further into the complex. We attended several panels before stopping to find some food. Con food is expensive!! Jesus, did they really need to charge $8 for a lousy hamburger? Granted it was pretty filling, but $8?! They had better stuffed the buns with concentrated awesome for that price. ‘I better shit gold bars for a week for that price’. Actually…. No. No that sounded painful. After an admittedly tasty lunch ('Eight fucking dollars... Highway robbery!) we proceeded to one of the higher profile events. Being in the same room as George Takei was pretty sweet. Granted I was never much of a Trekkie, but I knew enough about the original series to appreciate what he accomplished. Frankly, that guy was classy, with a capital C. He certainly knew how to put on a decent show, so we had fun. I’d be lying if I said the man didn’t walk away with another fan for his effort.

Anyways, after a few hours of fun, Mark and I split up for a little while. He wanted to attend a Magic: The Gathering mini-tourney to be held on the third floor. As much as I loved Mark, watching him geek out to other geeks about cards wasn’t really my definition of fun. So instead I wandered around the ‘marketplace’, going from stall to stall looking for something to buy. Yeah, it was the first day of the Con, but Mark told me that it was a good idea to scout out the stalls and look for anything that might sell out early, or go on sale later. Actually, it was an interesting experience. Several times I was stopped and asked for a picture, which I happily obliged. Dad and I worked hard on making this costume, even Mark pitched in for the design itself. I felt proud showing off our labor of love. I made an effort to tilt my hood down, to only show the lower half of my face. It was bad enough I didn’t have the mask, the pictures didn’t need some boring guy mucking up the effect of the suit.

Eventually I made my way through a throng of vendors, sorely tempted to purchase a few items here or there, like that Full Metal Alchemist pocket watch. That thing was awesome! As I was making my way back to the front of the convention floor, I spied a small booth in the corner, shaded by cloth and all sorts of paraphernalia. It drew my eye because unlike the other booths, this one didn’t seem to specialize in any particular item. In the same 6 foot space, I saw bad-ass swords, a book bigger than my God-Damned torso, and a small pile of stuffed animals. The whole thing was covered in flaps and cloth, like an old fashioned tent or pagoda. The only place to look directly inside was right in front of it; Frankly, it almost seemed like it didn’t want to attract attention, which is back-ass-wards for a merchant.

I made my way to the front of the booth and was greeted by a peculiar older man. He was maybe 40, with a thick, brown beard, and a large, bulbous nose. His bald pate was obscured by a thick, green visor that seemed almost… outlandishly out of place, until you consider the rest of his wardrobe. Dress slacks with suspenders arced up over his wifebeater, a grey affair way too small for his belly, and the face of Totoro imprinted on it. The face was grotesquely stretched out to fit his rather large frame. Around his neck hung an assortment of lanyards, keychains, and a purple tie with black spots on it. A brown bomber jacket with way too many patches sewn into it completed the ‘Hi! I’m an alien! Please notice me, sempai!” vibe that was practically rolling off the guy in waves. Seriously, this was the kind of guy the Men in Black would be interrogating for leaving his assigned neighborhood. ‘How in the Nine Hells has no one noticed this guy?’ Rather than actually listening to the internal warning bell ringing a fucking cadence in my head, I approached.

“Hello, young man! Care to peruse my wares?” Okay… Tha-That voice did not fit his face! I actually flinched when he spoke. It sounded sort of like the voice actor for General Iroh in Avatar. What was his name? Mako Iwamatsu. That guy. If he gargled hot sand and live frogs every morning. The accent was rather jarring as well. Almost as if he was unused to the English language. It started and stopped with an almost random tempo. However the moment I got close his eyes locked on to me like a heat-seeking missile, and Jesus. Those eyes. They were brown, but unlike mine, they were sharp and focused and clear. They were much darker than my own, almost giving them an endless quality. I felt like if I wasn’t separated by the booth, I might have gotten sucked into them. He looked at me like a hawk might look at a field mouse. Those were the eyes of a predator, implacable and unerring.

“I… Umm, nah. I’m just browsin’.” I replied, honestly unsure whether or not I wanted to stay. He gave me an appraising glare, and I say glare because those eyes didn’t seem to be capable of anything else, before moving aside to let me see inside the booth. I looked around for a bit. I had to hand it to the old guy, he ran a pretty tight ship. Every piece was well cared for, and despite my earlier misgivings to his appearance, this place smelled clean and fresh. Which was a huge difference from the rest of the Con, which was slowly getting a bit of a manky smell from the thousands of people packed in here. I picked up several items, and seeing as how the owner made no attempt to stop me, he wasn’t worried about me breaking anything. Still, I was careful. Didn’t want to spend all of my money on an accident.

I’d love to have owned even Half of what was in the booth. I saw a well-polished Stinger rocket launcher, reminiscent of the Resident Evil franchise (‘Nemesis… *shudder*’) with all the bells and whistles attached. I actually held a perfect replica of Frostmourne, complete with glowing blue runes. Hell, it was even cold. ‘I wonder where the batteries go?’ A deck of heavy, well-painted playing cards rested in what I could only dub the ‘League of Legends’ corner, alongside Tryndamere’s falchion, Annie’s teddy-bear and a few other objects of interest (‘What should we do today, Fishbones?’). A set of small, wooden wands lay side by side in a case, reflecting the dull light around them. An Ultramarine chainsword laid in a corner, with a bolter pistol hung from its handle. A pair of what could only be described as ‘Jesus Christ, they make a caliber that big?!’-sized pistols hung from a holster, one black, one silver, with eyes etched into their sides. There was writing on them, but I didn’t move close enough to investigate. A silver Fob Watch rested in a small case, its face glowed with green witch-light. An Eye-Scouter rested on a small pillow, its green glass coloring its surroundings. My inner-child shivered at the sight of Majora’s Mask, hung from the wall, glaring maliciously at me.

There were so many cool items in that shop that to describe them all would take days. It was that thought that pushed me into a depression. Honestly, as cool as most of these items were, they felt dull, lifeless in my hands. None of them screamed ‘BUY ME!’ to me, even though I was certain that I would leap at any of these items at any other time. With a sigh and heavy heart, I turned to--’GAH!’

Creepy bastard was right behind me, waiting with a bulging bag in his hands. His deep eyes were shaded a mild green from his visor, hung low over his brow.

“I noticed that you seemed a bit… disappointed with my selection.” He droned. Honestly, how had no one else in the Con come into the shop by now?

“Y-yeah. I, uh… I’m looking for something different, I guess.” Honestly, every bone in my body was screaming ‘Get the hell out of Dodge, man! Not worth! Not worth!’. I perked as I noticed him place the bag on the table in front of me and open the drawstring.

“I figured, with a costume like yours, that perhaps you’d be interested in a… different sort of piece.” He began to pull out what was inside. I’m not ashamed to say that I panicked.

“Uhh, that’s not really necessary! I’m late to meet my friend anyways, an-” Whatever was on my mind died when I saw it for the first time.

Thick, grey metal made up its shell, with red ridges that bisected the mask vertically. A thin line of black glass two fingers thick served as the eyepiece, surrounded in the dark red of the raised pieces of mask. Dull eggshell white paint served as accents, giving the maked a sunken, gaunt look.

I couldn’t help myself. I just had to… to touch it. I needed to touch it. Could anyone blame me? This thing was awesome! The moment my fingers touched the mask, I felt… elation. As if I’d just remembered something I’d forgotten long ago. Like figuring out the song that’s been at the tip of your tongue for hours. I didn’t know why I felt like that, but I needed more. I picked up the mask, gently, and turned it around. I almost scowled. The inside of the mask was covered in what looked like a small screen that would cover the eye-slit, with some metal prongs where screen meets the edge of the mask. While not quite opaque, it was still a very thick, dark material. ‘How the Hell do you see out of this thing?’ Around the mouth was what looked like a cup, with little bits of circuitry embedded deep into it. ‘A voice changer? Or maybe an amplifier?’ There was some padding around the edge of the mask, but I couldn’t tell how the damn thing was supposed to stay on.

“What is all this?” I asked, unable to keep the confusion from my voice.

“Features, my friend, features!” His voice had taken an almost oily quality, jarring me out of my stupor. I briefly glanced up at the the man an-- I stared. The man’s thin, hooked nose hung over the mask as he stood merely inches way.He seemed to be watching my reaction to the piece very carefully, as though trying to discern some hidden message in my features. I couldn’t help but stare at his nose. ‘Wasn’t…?’ I shook my head as my growing feeling of paranoia subsided. I was probably too busy watching his merchandise to properly process what the owner looked like. I turned my eyes back to the mask.

“Features? This isn’t a car, man. What is all this stuff?” I asked. He grinned creepily, it was thin and full of teeth.

“A screen for displaying data across the eyes, and an amplifier, so you can actually be heard while wearing it.” He replied. I couldn't help but wonder:

“What’s the point of that? You can’t even see out of it. And I’ve never heard of an eye-screen monitor.”

“Oh, it’s new! Very new! The latest technology, of course! Haven’t you been keeping up with the latest news? It’s all the rage, little dude!” Oh… my god. That was the most cringe-inducingly 90’s thing I’d ever heard. That sounded like dialogue ripped right out of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Frankly, though? I couldn’t have cared less. If he was willing to part with the mask in my hands, not even definitive proof that he was an alien (or a mental patient) was going to drive me away.

“Oh yeah, I think I heard about that. Didn’t Apple come out with computer-glasses or something?”

“This is… kind of like that. Only better, in my opinion.” ‘Better than Apple?’ To say that I should have been suspicious would be like saying Neil deGrasse Tyson was kind of a smart guy. However, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the mask in my hands.

“How does it work? How do you charge it? What does it connect to?” Try as I might, I couldn’t find a USB port, or an AC port anywhere on the damn thing. The owner simply pulled a box out of the bag. It was slightly larger than my hands, with a frame made of burnished bronze. Underneath the frame laid several layers of circuitry. No matter what angle I looked at it, the circuitry would never let me see what was at the core, which glowed with a dim golden light. It gave the box an ever-shifting appearance.

“This is both its power source and its hard-drive. It’s wireless, before you ask.” A wireless hard-drive made to look like a holocron?

“FUCKING SOLD! I’ll take them both!” I didn’t need to wait until the last day. This had to be mine! The Merchant smiled and scooped the holocron back into the bag, which from what I could tell, bulged with other items.

“Eeexcellent! “He exclaimed. “And to sweeten the deal, young man, I’ll throw in the contents of this bag.” ‘Free swag? HELL YEAH!’ I eagerly reached into one of the satchels around my waist for my wallet.

“Can’t complain about that! How much?!” ‘I can’t wait to show Mark! And Dad!’

“That would be $250, my friend.” And just like that, my mood dove. Reluctantly, I checked the contents of my wallet, despite the fact that I knew damn well I didn’t have enough money. ‘Set a $200 limit, he said. You’ll be grateful you did later, he said. FUCK YOU, MARK!’

“I, um… I only have $200.” The Merchant frowned at me before snatching the mask from my grip. ‘Jesus, he’s fast!’ I felt my breath quicken, and a hitch form in my chest.

“Then I’m afraid we simply don’t have a deal.” The Merchant turned to place the the mask back into the bag.

“No, wait! Please!” I couldn’t help myself. I just needed to hold it again. I had to have it! It wasn’t fair!

“No money, no sale!” He ran a hand through his long, greasy hair, scowling at me. I blinked and stared at his head. ‘W-what the fu-?’ He picked up the bag and opened the drawstring. I broke out in a sweat as he shoved the mask into the bag, and began putting the bag back under his counter.

“Wait, I-- Hold on! I can get the money! Just… just hold it! I’ll be right back!” He warned me as I left that a sale was a sale, and that if someone else came and wanted to purchase it, he wouldn’t hold the mask for me. I tore out of that booth like the Kool-Aid Man, and sprinted to the room where the tourney was being held.

‘Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!’ It took me nearly 30 minutes to worm my way through the crowd to the tourney. There were so many people in the way that at several points I actually had to push and shove my way through. Didn’t they understand that I was in a hurry?! I dodged a rather hefty shirtless man in body- makeup, a cat’s tail and ears (‘Nope! Nope! NOPE! NOPE!’) and turned the corner. Right into a small crowd. A group 3-people deep separated me from the room. ‘I don’t have time for this!’ I hugged the wall and squeezed my way through. The room was about the size of the average classroom, and crammed to absolute bursting with sweaty, enthusiastic card players. Every table told a story: ‘Who was winning? Who was losing? And most importantly, WHERE THE FUCK IS MA- Oh! There we go!’

“Mark! DUDE!” I ran up to him. He was sweating in his heavy costume, but a smile was plastered across his face. A smile that for some reason fell when he saw me.

“Whoa. Dude, what happened to you?” I blinked, but remained focused.

“Not now. Listen, I need a favor.”

“Okkkaaaay?”

“I need to borrow $50!” Mark looked at me like I’d grown two extra heads. And those heads were yodeling. In Spanish. He put down his deck and got up off his seat, staring intently at my face. His brow was furrowed, and he kept looking from my face to behind me, as though looking for a reason that I might be here besides what I’ve said.

“I- Umm, are you… okay, man?”

“Yeah! Why?” He scoffed at my answer.

“You’ve never, EVER asked me for money before. What’s going on? You look pale.” He put his hand on my shoulder, which I shrugged
off almost immediately.

“I’m fine! I feel fine, I just need to borrow some cash.” He motioned to the seat next to him.

“Maybe you need to sit down?” I pushed the seat back under the table.

“I don’t need to sit down!” I snapped, “I need your help! Just trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing! This is important!” Mark studied my face for what seemed like forever, worry painted across his face. Slowly, he reached into the thigh-pouch on his right leg and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a Fifty.

“I don’t know what this is about, bu--” I swiped the bill from his hand and gave him the manliest Bro hug I could muster.

“Thanks, Dude! You’re the best!” I ran out of the room, with the sounds panic and Mark’s heavy stomping at my back.

“Wait! Dude!” He called from behind me, but I had no time to spare. I ran down the hall and into the marketplace, ignoring his cries the whole way. Colors smeared together. Announcements boomed from the speakers overhead, oddly fragmented and twisted. I couldn’t bring myself to care. Twice, I had to detour because of some large group or event blocking the way. I wanted to just plow through said obstacles, but I didn’t want to risk being delayed, or worse: thrown out. I’d never get back to the booth in time, then!

Finally, I saw my destination. My relief was almost tangible. I slowed my marathon-pace and heaved a deep sigh, the feeling of weight lifted from my shoulders. The Merchant stood at the counter, his thin, gaunt form leaned heavily on it for support. His cleanshaven face was split in a facsimile of a smile. His eyes were obscured by the visor, which bobbed as he spoke with a guy in thick, brown robes. A plastic lightsaber hung from his belt. They laughed, as if sharing some hidden joke, and gestured to the bag on the counter.

‘No...’ That bag. The mask. My mask! I rushed over to the booth just as Mark caught up to me. He’d fallen to his knees, and panted heavily. I paid him no mind as I stomped up to the counter and slammed my hand on the bag. I fixed the new guy with a glare and stepped between him and the Merchant.

“Sorry, that item’s been reserved already.” I snarled. The kid gave me an inquisitive look before responding.

“He never told me it was reserved.”

“Well, it is, so you have to go get your shit somewhere else.” The kid frowned and took a step closer.

“That’s now how it works around here. I was here, and you weren’t, so it’s mine.” The Merchant cleared his throat behind us. We turned to him and he pulled a small, old-timey register from under the counter. ‘I…Huh.’ After a moment of mild interest, I shook my head and pulled my money out of my pouch. Mark walked up from behind me and attempted to get our attention, to no avail. The kid pulled out a small card and offered it to the Merchant, and simultaneously pushed my hand away from the counter. A spark of anger welled in my chest. My anger turned to confusion as the Merchant sighed almost theatrically. He offered a look of regret to the guy next to me and pointed to his credit card.

“I’m afraid that I can’t take credit. Only physical tender is accepted at my shop.” A smile lit my face and I thrusted the crumpled bills into his hands. The guy took a step back, a disappointed look on his face. The Merchant handed the bag to me, and I tore open the drawstring gleefully. Mark waved his hand in front of me. His voice sounded tinny, as if he was yelling at me through a pipe in another room. I couldn’t feel his hands on my shoulders, nor see his look of distress. The sounds of the Con sort of fell away, muffled. As though someone slowly turned down the volume dial. I pulled the Mask out. It was beautiful. It was strong. It was perfect.

It was mine.

I lifted it to my face. Strong, gloved hands pulled at my arms, tried to knock it away. They tried to take It from me. I lashed out. I seethed, and roared my fury in their faces. So many faces. Staring. Some angry. Some fearful. One worried. Two grinning, ever shifting, their features morphing like the gel in a lava lamp, always identical to each other. Their eyes were shaded by the green visor that sat on their heads, both in brown. They just kept staring. I backed away. The wall stopped me. The bag was heavy in my arms. The Mask was heavier.

One face inched closer. The worried one. It spoke. It’s words tumbled and crashed over each other, a jumbled, garbled mess of nonsense. It cocked its head, and repeated the same noises again.

“Du-....just…..ca-....-nd we ca-... -is.” I shook my head. Confusing. Messy.

“Just go away! Leave me alone!” I wanted to run. Couldn’t run. Needed to hide.

“....-ease, ju-- ….-ith me!” It shrieked. Its very voice tore at my ears. I had to escape. I looked around. Nothing but faces. Staring. Leering. Mocking. Shrieking their garbage language. I looked down at It. At the Mask. I thought that if I was someone else, they’d leave me be. I stood straight. Slowly lifted It to my face. The moment it touched me, all sound shut out. Silence reigned, and the heavy fog feeling that clouded my my mind evaporated. I thought clearly for the first time in an hour.

The light around me faded away. A heavy coppery taste invaded my senses.

All was silent. All was still. That silence was broken by one voice.

By my best friend. My brother in all but blood.

“CARLOS!!”

The ground beneath me vanished.

~==========Meanwhile, Elsewhere…==========~

KRA-BOOOOOM! The tower shook with the force of the explosion, knocking many years’ worth of dust from the heavy wooden rafters. The walls lightly hummed, visibly distorting from the sheer amount of magical backlash the device was emitting. Bright, violet light swirled at its interior, cold and violent like the very creatures that once stalked the land. Nearby, a small, grey shield pulsed wildly, deflecting the feral energies as they besieged it. It radiated heat, a sharp contrast of the freezing winds emanating from the center of the anomaly. Behind the shield stood three small creatures, who stared at the anomaly with mixed expressions. They huddled close, two behind the first, as they waited for the danger to subside. The center of the disturbance flared wildly, expanding and retracting almost at random. Its untamable energies pushed the air around it into a frenzy, transforming the small laboratory into a maelstrom of power without reason. Without direction. Without form. Small devices around the laboratory overloaded, many either fried from the inside or simply ceased to function. A small ficus in the corner froze slowly from the roots up; The leaves fragmented and froze in place, leaving long crystallized tendrils from the branches that reached to the floor. Pages from books strewn across the room haphazardly ripped from from their spines, adding to the destructive vortex. Several long minutes passed. Fatalistic thoughts passed through each of the creatures’ minds. Finally:

Silence.

Slowly, the shield was lowered with a hiss, releasing the air that was trapped within. Three beings, small ponies, strode forward, careful to avoid the shards of ice liberally spread across the floor. The largest, a burly, mauve earth pony mare, used her iron-shod hooves to scrape a path towards the destroyed apparatus. The smallest, a white unicorn mare, pushed her green mane out of her face as she closely inspected the remains. Despite the unbelievably frigid temperature of the anomaly, the apparatus itself, once an intricately carved bronze, melted into an almost unidentifiable slag. A thick, heady steam rose from the remains. The crystals that had once suspended themselves between the prongs of the apparatus laid scattered around the floor in fragments, indiscernible from the ice crystals that clung to everything in all but color. She lit her horn and passed it close to the remains. Her eyes widened in astonishment. ‘T-that signature!’ She thought. What once was a carefully ordered set of manufactured magical matrices now more closely resembled the the results of an all-night drinking binge with Discord!

The mare turned as her mentor walked next to her. Without his signature belled hat and cape, he looked nothing like the icon of the public eye. Gone was the paragon of higher learning whose wisdom helped save the ponies from extinction. Instead, a much older, more worn unicorn stood in his place. His grey fur was rough from the neglect of his personal hygiene. His messy white mane fell in greasy clumps around his head, nearly obscuring the long, well cared for horn that jutted from his skull. Deep, black bruises hung from his eyes. The eyes themselves, however, sparkled with the exuberance of youth, with just a touch of insanity.

“Fascinating! Simply fascinating! Clover, please tell me you were recording that!” He exclaimed, voice filled with excitement. The young unicorn mare trotted over to one of the myriad of destroyed instruments. She prodded it with her horn for a few moments and grimaced at the charred interior. A few moments later, she removed a sheet of parchment the device’s tray, the barest of smiles on her face.

“Well, the recorder’s thaumic dampeners are shot, although the processing crystal matrix is untouched, so we might be able to salvage it.” Clover replied. She held up the parchment in her mint-colored magic. Her mentor’s pink aura overtook it quickly, and dragged the page to his face. His eyes scanned back and forth, and bit by bit devoured the raw data on the page. His small grin slowly widened; Pure glee shined in his eyes. Clover watched her mentor for a moment, and turned back to the machine. ‘It was cold… but it fried every unshielded piece of technology in the room.’ She’d never encountered a magical signature that was capable of upsetting an entire room full of equipment before. The closest comparison she could think of was Discord himself, and yet that conclusion in itself was flawed and reaching. She turned to her companions.

“W-was… was that supposed to happen, Teacher?” She asked. Their Earth Pony assistant began sorting through their devices. She separated those that were still intact from those that required replacing.

“Not at all! This reaction…” Her mentor trailed off. He began gathering up the remains of the crystals used in the Thaumic Resonation Recorder. She sighed. Without the experimental device, measuring the baseline background thaumic signatures of this particular region of the continent would be impossible. Sadly, it would take quite a while to repair. High clarity gems of the appropriate size and type measured to the milli-feather were not exactly cheap, nor plentiful.

“What was that? That anomaly?” She asked. Her mentor turned to Clover for the first time since it began.

“The most peculiar thing, Clover! I never thought I’d live to see something like this!” He nearly bounced on his hooves from his excitement. Clover’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“This… this could very well be the discovery of a lifetime! Bigger than the Fires of Friendship!”

“What is it?!” She demanded. She really did hate it when her mentor played the ‘Pronoun game’!

“I have no idea!” Clover visibly restrained herself.

“Then why are you smiling?!” She shouted. The exasperation was plain on her face. While she loved and respected her mentor, he could be a hoofful sometimes.

Okay, most of the time.

…. So she needed a vacation. Who didn’t these days? With the chaos left over from Discord’s recent defeat, and the recent reorganization of the various pony governments under the new rulers, tensions were on the rise.

“I’m smiling because this wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He giggled as he spoke. He dropped the remains in a magically sealed bag. Its thaumic dampening and stasis fields would preserve the erratic signature that saturated the fragments. He slowly carved bits of the melted bronze. The runes that were once painstakingly carved into the prongs were unrecognizable. ‘Weeks of work, wasted!’ She fumed, and shot a scowl at the elder unicorn.

“Look at these chunks of bronze,” He tilted his head towards the pieces floating in his magic. “These pieces look like they’ve been put through an incinerator. Yet we had to pour most of our magic into the shield just to keep from freezing! To be honest, we’re lucky that it didn’t suddenly cook us alive.” He chuckled as he turned to his student.

“Surely you’ve scanned the magical signature by now?” Clover’s brow furrowed as she contemplated the question.
“Of course. Massive variations in temperature and severity, despite the lack of degrees between extremes. Thaumic potential ballooned and diminished with no discernable pattern, and the resulting signature matches no known sources. In fact, it’s almost as if the signature doesn’t exist. What is there feels like a hodge-podge of other signals cobbled together, with no attempts made to blend into a single, cohesive signature. Ordinarily this would be indicative of heavy corruption of Chaos magic, except…”

“Except?” Her mentor asked with a grin.

“Except, there’s no-” Clover stopped cold. She scanned the remains again, certain that she had simply missed something. Frowning, she scanned once more. ‘H-how… how have I not noticed this?’

“There’s been no interference from Chaos magic at all. That… that makes no sense. By its very nature, Harmonious magic isn’t capable of such a disjointed, fragmented signature.” She turned back to her companions. “How could this happen?”

“It couldn’t. Everything we know about magic tells us that this couldn’t happen. This device was made to display magic currents, not produce them. Even if we were in an area of extreme magical turbulence, and you know we are not, being overloaded would not have caused the TRR to shatter as it did. The runes carved into the prongs were meant to avert such an event. And yet…” He motioned to the now full bag of evidence at his hooves. “Moreover, one could expect this to be the work of Discord, or another powerful Chaos user. Yet the remains don’t exude the vague unease that would ordinarily permeate that which is corrupted by Chao’s influence. Nor are we experiencing the call of temptation that would accompany a nexus of chaotic energy. Nothing has changed here. This place is the same…” The old unicorn turned to their silent companion.

“Pomegranate, take a letter. The Princesses must be informed at once! And don’t complain! You need to practice your mouth-writing.” The large earth pony sighed, resigned to her task. She struggled to copy everything her employer said, and to do so legibly. Twice, she had to start again, to cover the spelling errors she’d made that he’d gently corrected.

“....Furthermore, we feel the need to present the specifics of said Event face-to-face. We will be there in three days’ time to present our findings. We hope you can find the time to meet with us, as I can assure you that you would be most interested in what we have to show you. As always, I hope this letter finds you in good health. Your loyal servant, Starswirl the Bearded. Dictated, but not read. Did you get all of that, Pomegranate?”

She nodded and slowly wrapped up the scroll. Starswirl’s horn flashed, and the scroll vanished with a quiet pop.

Author's Note

Before I continue, I wanted to address a few things.

First, and foremost, thank you for taking the time to read this. I understand that there are other Fics you could be spending your time on, and whether you liked this or not, I'm grateful you spent some time on mine.

Another thing I wanted to set straight are my intentions. Yes, I understand that my premise is not original, and that it is cliched as they come, at least in the HiE circles. I'm aware that a large portion of the people who begin reading this will stop the moment the word 'convention' comes along. It's an occupational hazard, and I have no hard feelings about those who do move on. It's important for me to say, however, that this reaction is the reason this Fic came about.

It started with a discussion between a very good friend of mine (an author himself) on the subject of HiE cliches. He was of the mind that once something becomes cliche, it shouldn't be taken seriously from then on. I fundamentally disagreed with the spirit of his argument, if not the letter of it. I can't deny that a lot of HiE Fics use the convention cliche, and for the most part, yes, it can be tired and difficult to slog through. After all, we've all seen it before, right?

However, I feel that the reason it's so worn out is that no one ever DOES anything with it. It's always 'Human goes to convention in costume, gets sucked through the world, wham-bam-thank you ma'am!'. There's no variation on it. Most Fics (that I've read, anyways) gloss over the whole event in an attempt to get right into the action. And rightfully so! I can't say that I blame them, as the meat of their Fics is inevitably contained in the interaction between their human OCs and the ponies of Equestria. Who wouldn't want to get into the good stuff right away?

I feel, however, that it's a wasted opportunity for a chance to establish one's character before they ever meet the ponies. I thought that by adding something more to the convention cliche, I could freshen it up, or at least offer something that's unique somewhat. If I'm really lucky, I succeeded in offering a glimpse into what Carlos is like as a character, though I doubt it. Perhaps I'm alone in that opinion, and all I've accomplished is boring you for 8,000 words. Only time will tell, I suppose.

Originally, I'd planned to have Carlos simply MAKE the mask, or discover the tear between worlds on his own, or completely by accident. Not only did I find this a bit difficult to justify, but I found the whole 'complete accident' scenario a bit contrived. Perhaps it's a bit hypocritical, considering how Carlos gets to Equestria, but I'll stand by my thought, if nothing else.

Anyways, one character managed to change my mind on the whole convention origin. That character is the Merchant.

Those of you who are familiar with the LoHaV/aH groups should recognize him. I fell in love with the Merchant's character because, quite frankly, there's almost NO information on him! The Merchant, like Yoda or Mr. Miyagi before him, is a character whose entire appeal is based on the fact that he is so mysterious! Who he is, why he chooses to hurl humans from various dimensions into different versions of Equestria, what he hopes to gain, none of this is explained.

Originally, I wrote this scene where Carlos asks the Merchant why he'd be willing to sell such cool things, to which the Merchant explained why he's kidnapping humans and why he needs humans to begin with. I stopped writing that scene for the same reason no one would want to read that scene. IT WAS BORING! It was just so dull, I couldn't bring myself to include it. When I thought about it later, I realized that such a scene compromised the integrity of the Merchant anyways. Including it would destroy the reason I loved the character so much. Even if I did include it, it likely wouldn't be canon, as it was entirely devoid of the charm and mystery that made the Merchant so cool to begin with.

I did end up keeping the description of what was in his shop however. Every item in there is a character concept I abandoned in favor of Revan. Who knows, maybe someone will feel inspired enough to take one of the items from here and roll with it. Though I'm not so arrogant as to believe that I'm some awe-inspiring writer!

So I changed the scene entirely. I took out my head-canon for the Merchant's motivations, because it wasn't really my place to define it to begin with. I had to tread very carefully, to find the perfect balance between adding to the Merchant's character in a meaningful way and adding too much to the point where he becomes a separate character entirely. Additionally, I wanted to add to the Merchant without having him DIRECTLY tell the readers about himself.

So I added a bit of my head-canon to him, the shape-shifting (Or rather, a Perception Filter) and the mood-altering. I feel it lends itself well to the Merchant's character, given that he is some ungodly entity, albeit in a subtle manner. In my head, it made sense that extended periods of time in his presence would alter one's emotional make-up. Otherwise how would some of these ordinarily level-headed humans fall to the guile of an admittedly suspicious character? It made sense to me that. given that he is not a 3-dimensional being, a human that looked at him would see what he/she wants. Or in some cases, what they don't want. It's a mechanic that plays on the inherent paranoia in us, that animal instinct that comes from our cold, lizard brain that shouts 'DANGER!'.

I hope that such an addition would be worthy of the Merchant, and to those who write him in the future.

To those of you who stuck with this until the end of the chapter, despite the cliche, I hope you weren't disappointed. Thank you again.

And to those of you who want a visual representation of Carlos:

And his Lightsaber:

And the Holocron:

Sources used for images:

Ice dWings Art

theworldjoker

Reedius

Couldn't find the source for the lightsaber. Sorry! :fluttershysad:

Edit: Also, I'm unsure how much swearing is considered excessive by Fimfiction standards. If someone could inform me whether the current rating is appropriate for now, I'd be grateful.

Disoriented

~==========Carlos==========~

Cold. It was so fucking cold. My head pounded painfully. It felt tender, like a giant bruise. I tried to move. My heart raced and my breath hitched. ‘Oh God, no. Please, no!’ I tried to move to no avail. My body adamantly refused to obey my commands. Images of wheelchairs and hospital beds flew through my mind at lightning speeds, as icy, stupid panic shot through my brain. I tried to open my eyes.

White.

So bright! ‘Jesus!’ I shut my eyes before they started bleeding! They throbbed and pulsed as I slowly opened them. The bright light seared them, but slowly my eyes acclimated. Despite my efforts, I could barely keep my eyes open. They slid about lethargically on their own, with only the barest of inputs from me. I caught bits and pieces of my surroundings.

Tall, dark trees with evergreen needles. Tiny, white flakes fell by the thousands. Everything in sight was coated with snow. ‘Since... when does it snow in Florida?’ I struggled for a few moments, before succumbing to my fatigue. Fuzzy pseudo-warmth invaded my senses, and my eyes closed.

My eyes opened. The shadows on the ground rotated. Thick, grey clouds raced quickly across the skies. The sun hid behind them. My eyes closed.

My eyes opened. The shadows moved. The ground turned white and lumpy. Cold air bit at my lungs with every breath. My eyes closed.

My eyes opened. The shadows lengthened. Fuzzy whiteness clung to the edge of my vision. Crunching sounds pierced the air nearby. My eyes closed.

A faint tugging broke my stupor. My eyes opened. The furious bright light that previously assaulted my eyes had dimmed considerably. Frost bordered my view, as though I was looking through glass. I blinked several times, but the icy veil wouldn’t clear from my eyes. ‘Weird. They feel fine to me.’ My leg suddenly jerked backward, and I shifted myself to look at it. My body was sluggish. It felt as though I was trying to swim through syrup. My leg spasmed once again, and I looked at it. It looked quite normal. I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. It wasn’t bending in any odd directions. My foot seemed to be caught on a chunk of sno--JERK! CRUNCH!

My breath hitched. The hunk of compacted ice at my feet moved, yanking my foot wildly side-to-side, like a dog. Two long, thick spears of ice curved from the mouth, refracting the dark pits embedded into the snout. Snow white fur with clumps of frost clung to it covered a hide thick enough to stop spears. Deep, sunken pits obscured beady, black eyes the size of my fist! Large amounts of snow were kicked up each time the beast reared its head back and dug its cloven hooves into the ground. Razor-sharp teeth lined a mouth that was way too wide for its body, which already rivaled most SUVs with its bulk! Teeth that were firmly clamped around my fucking leg!! I felt a dull, slightly painful pressure as the boar tried to chew through my boot.

‘Don’t panic! Don’t panic! Don’t panic!’ A lance of hot pain jerked up my spine from my calf, drawing an involuntary cry from my throat. My hand shot to my mouth, though I couldn’t feel either body part. It was too late. The beast swing its massive head towards me. Its clear tusks glinted in the remains of the daylight. They promised a particularly brutal death.It grunted and scraped its hoof against the snow. Thick muscles rippled along its neck and shoulders. I fumbled backwards, turned and dragged myself to my knees. My head spun, bile and copper heavy on my tongue. My stomach leapt into my throat. My arms shook. I tried my hardest to keep myself stable, and-- Alarm pierced through my thoughts, something behind me pulled at my attention. ‘Fucking MOVE!’

It lunged!

Before I realized what had happened, I’d already thrown myself to the side. A wall of flesh barreled past me. A small wave of dislodged snow peppered my back; It stung like a wall of hornets! Teeth gritted, I pushed myself on to my wobbly legs. I nearly fell forward as I started running. It was a slow start, but I quickly picked up speed. My legs pumped furiously as the demented lovechild of a squeal and a roar sounded off behind me.

‘Oh god!’ My ears vibrated violently with the force of its cry. I could hear the crunching of its hooves in the snow. I could smell the sour milk and barnyard stench that rolled off it in waves. I could feel its hot, moist breath seeping through my robes in rancid bursts.

It was right behind me.

The forest spun, and my stomach churned as my body gave its best damn shot at reorienting me. Branches whipped past my head and chest; the occasional sting only added to the difficulty of slogging through snow in heavy robes. A light sheen of sweat covered me, forcing bits of my clothing to stick to me. My breath was heavy and ragged. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get enough air in my lungs! My head pulsed and pounded like a shitty college rave, and I-- ROOT!

I jumped way too late, and spun as I fell forward. My leg, still caught on the root, wrenched painfully! My face was introduced to the owner of said root a split second later, and I bounced off the trunk with a dull thunk. A heavy cracking followed by a crash sounded off, but I was too busy being thrown ass over teakettle to care. I rolled down a ditch, my arms thrown over my head in panic. My leg exploded with fresh pain every time it touched the ground.

Crunch-kra-kraaaak! Agony tore through my mind, intense and unforgiving! My arm collapsed beneath me, and frigid numbness bloomed over my body. Darkness obscured my periphery. It was only the chill of the water that seeped into my clothes that kept me conscious. I struggled for a few moments to keep from slipping under the ice; I’d been sent careening headfirst into a creek that had frozen over. I tried to pick myself up, but my right arm burned with white hot pain, and I crumpled like an old beer can, then fell to my back. A deep, groaning sound drew my attention back up the hill. ‘Wow, that felt like a much shorter fall than it rea--’ My jaw dropped.

A thick, clear tusk impaled the tree I’d bashed into! A wreath of splinters decorated the spot where it emerged from the other side, jutting out at least another foot from a trunk that would put my arm span to shame. The massive beast attached to it strained against the towering pine. Its branches showered the ditch with snow as they shook under the boar’s herculean efforts. The roots began to show themselves under the snow. It was determined. It was mighty!

I was so fucked.

My eyes widened in horror, and I tried to drag myself away. I made it all of 5 feet before I heard the tree above snap like twig. The boar eyed me, all teeth and malice. It scraped its hoof against the ground, its powerful legs coiled up. I stumbled and scrambled backwards. The hill behind me stopped my retreat; the snow crunched with a finality that I could not dread more if I tried. I was hemmed in on all sides by impassible ice and rock. The beast bellowed long and low. It was the last sound I’d ever hear.

It charged.

I shut my eyes and threw out my good arm in the vain hope that it would save me from my grisly end. A loud squeal and a thundering crash shattered my cool, and I screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed…. Admittedly for a lot longer than I should have. It was manly, though! More of a battlecry, really!

…. Yeah.

My hammering heart and burning lungs brought me out of my ~~pants-pissing terror~~ raging roar. I sucked in the chilled air and peered beyond my splayed fingers for the source of my death. For the nth time today, I was struck speechless. Before me, part of the hill was swept clear of snow, to the extent that chunks of rock and earth were torn out and flung haphazardly. The tree, once hanging on by a small section of trunk, now lay backwards, its trunk splintered and frayed. Most importantly, the hellbeast was nowhere to be seen.

….

‘Did… it just charge backwards?’

…

‘Why am I complaining?!’

I dragged myself up the hill. It was a laborious climb without using my right arm. I peeked above the hill slowly, but my fears were baseless. The beast retreated, and left me alone on the hill. The destruction was… If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed that the creature was capable of such a thing. Though why it felt the need to tear up half the hill as it ran, let alone run at all, was beyond me. Something glittery caught my eye.

Embedded in the fragmented remains of the trunk was the tusk of the beast that’d nearly ended my life. It was supported by chunks of wood, and exposed to the air. It looked like an artifact, cradled by the ruins of the tree. Some part of me felt like abandoning it. Night was going to fall soon, and I didn’t like the idea of being caught in the cold. Well... the colder, anyways. Yet….

‘I’ve been chased across this damn forest by Pumba’s demonic uncle. I’ve been beaten, tripped, I’m pretty sure my arm’s fucked up, if not broken. I’m cold. I’m hungry! I hurt EVERYWHERE! Fuck it! I’m getting something out of it!’

I grabbed the tusk, and my hand tingled as I did. It felt like the uncomfortable sensation right before you get stung by static, that slight paranoia when you know it’s coming. The fact that it was exposed belied just how deeply wedged in it was. It took several minutes of yanking and tearing before it slid out anticlimactically. It felt cool to the touch, yet despite its icy appearance, it was warmer than the snow surrounding me. It had grown considerably more dull, as what little light that filtered through the clouds above was starting to wane.

It was dusk.

‘Oh great. Winter is coming...’ The thought brought a grim smile to my face, despite myself.

It didn’t take me long to find a shelter for the night, surprisingly. A short while of dragging my battered form through the forest led me to a small dip in the land, a sort of alcove between hills that was shielded from the worst of the wind. This was a must, as the wind had picked up considerably. It whipped through the forest, pelting me with fresh snow, both stinging and numbing me at once. A more exhaustive search of the alcove bore fruit in the form of a small cave. Without really checking (a foolish move, considering that the forest’s inhabitants have proven their ferocity) I crawled into the cave, and sighed with relief.

It wasn’t inhabited. What’s more, I was effectively protected from the elements on two sides by rock, and a third side by thick bushes. With a little work, I was able to pile snow on the last side, effectively sealing the cave from the worst that nature had to offer, while leaving proper ventilation via the bushes. Id finished as the last dregs of light faded away. I barely had enough room to sit up comfortably. I couldn’t stand at all. The rocky ground made it tough to find a position to sit in a satisfying position. When I leaned against the cave wall, something pressed against my back. At first I thought it might be the tusk, but after laying that on my lap, I reached back again and found something tangled on my satchels.

I stiffened. The bag looked torn in a few places, yet the contents remained encased in the bright blue fabric. It still bulged with the goodies held within. I opened the drawstring and dumped the contents out into my lap. A couple dozen fist-sized spheres spilled out. Most were a dull, metallic grey, with twisted metal cords wrapped around their surface. A half dozen were brightly polished chrome. They had small, red indicator lights that remained off, and a small switch that clung to their surfaces. Something about them felt off, so I decided not to fiddle with them. Another half dozen were a polished white substance, with small green circuits that glowed under their surface.

Two cases about as large as the average laptop, one brown and the other white, sat at the bottom of the bag. I slipped them out and put the bag and the rest of its contents down. I fiddled with the white one. It had small red markings all around the edge of the case, with a large symbol in the center. Though I didn’t recognize it, I figured the color scheme was identifiable enough. I found the latch on one side of the case and pressed it.

Whhrrrrrr! I jumped and looked down at the now rapidly expanding case. It grew to the size of a desktop tower, though did not weigh any more than it did a moment ago. When it stopped, it popped open, and several panels swung out of the case, suspended by well oiled hinges. Before me was a wide assortment of gadgets, vials, and bandages, most of which I’d never seen before. At the bottom most portion of the case were two large canisters of clear fluid. One was a bluish grey, the other a bright translucent blue. Another of the green spheres sat between them.

I quickly packed the case again. When I closed it, it compressed back to the size of a laptop. I was surprised to find that I could press a latch and fold it on itself lengthwise. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but I was too tired to question it.

A quick inspection of the brown case turned up a small foil package, small lengths of rope, and a few other odds and ends I didn’t recognize. I did find something that looked suspiciously like a pistol. It was short and squat, with an oddly shaped grip. I couldn’t find any place for a clip to rest, given that the grip was solid. Not that I was particularly familiar with firearms to begin with. Still, I didn’t feel like messing with it at the moment. Always respect the gun. I knew at least that much from TV.

At the bottom of the brown case, I found the most beautiful thing in the world to me. The case was packed from side to side with foil-wrapped bars and sticks.

“FOOD!” I could barely contain my excitement. My stomach was already halfway through tearing itself apart. I tore through that foil with a speed that would make Usain Bolt flush with envy. The bar was small and brown; it certainly didn’t look like chocolate. ‘Maybe a protein bar?’

I crammed that thing into my mou--Thunk! Correction. It bounced off my mouth.

…. ‘Wait, what?’

For the first time since waking, I touched my face. I actually paid attention to what I was feeling. Though the gloves, I could feel a cool, smooth surface that didn’t match the contours of my face at all. What’s worse? I could see my fingers stop an inch from my face, pressed against some invisible surface. My stomach did a slow roll and I tore off my hood and felt around. Whatever clung to my face wrapped around my head as well. I tore at it with my fingers, but could not find purchase. My breath quickened. ‘What the fuck what the fuck what the fu--!’
“GET OFF!” I roared! Suddenly my vision cut off completely. A small series of clicks and whirs invaded the quiet of the cave as whatever the hell it was writhed on my skull. I found a way to dig my fingers in and pulled with all my might!

Light returned to me with a dull clatter. Instantly, the air I was breathing in chilled by 20 degrees! I could suddenly see my breath, and my body temperature started to drop. I looked down at the thing that was on my face. The mask lay on its face, its interior revealed to me. I breathed a sigh of relief, happy that it wasn’t a facehugger, or giant face cancer or something. I picked it up and cradled it in my arm. Despite everything, I couldn’t bear to mistreat it. It was my only source of heating after all!

‘It doesn’t even have a scratch on it. What did that guy make this out of?’

I froze. My hands clenched; my knuckles blanched in their gloves. I breathed slowly through my nose. Each breath felt like smoke from an angry dragon’s mouth. I struggled to control the fury roiling in my gut.

‘That old bastard...’ I wanted so desperately to punch something. To beat the hell out of it over and over again. Annoyingly, the only things in this cave were either too valuable to pummel, or a rock. ‘God damn it...’

“Hijo de puta!” Long streams of the most inventive curses I could find, in every language I could muster, streamed from under my breath. It didn’t make me feel any better. I stomped my feet and slammed my hands on the hard walls and floor until they were sore and throbbing. It didn’t lessen my anger. Finally, I resorted to screaming all my rage and frustration out at the top of my lungs, until my throat was raw and my voice raspy. It didn’t quell the burning venom inside.

That greasy, old fuck played me like a damned fiddle! I’m not sure how, or even why, but he did. He yanked me like a puppet on a string, and I did absolutely nothing to stop him. I played right into his hands. Drugs in the airvent, hypnosis, it didn’t matter to me. He made this happen to me somehow, and he made me grateful for it. Hell, I even paid him for it!

But not anymore. No, I was finally thinking clearly. The shit (whatever it may have been) was out of my system now, and the only thing left was the undeniable urge to cave that asshole’s face in.

“When I get my hands on him,” I swore “I’ll rip his fucking teeth out!” I brooded and stewed in my anger. Several minutes passed while entertaining myself with thoughts of revenge, of confronting him and making him pay for putting me here. My frown eventually deepened, as with every gratifying scenario of bravado and justice, a small voice of doubt niggled at me.

‘How? How are you going to do that? How are you going to find him? He put you here, can you stop him from doing that again? Where even is here? How will you get home?’

With every self-punishing thought, uncertainty settled deeper in my mind. Fear and hate battled within. My desire to beat the Merchant (as I’d come to call him in my mind) to death warred against my desire to go home. To see my family. To see my brother. ‘All I wanted was to go to a con with my best friend, and have a good ti-’

I shot up so fast I bashed my head against the ceiling. Pain stung my head in waves, but I didn’t care. I was too preoccupied with the worry that had commandeered my thoughts. I tried to exit the cave, but the strong winds bit at my exposed face, and forced me back into the bushes. Reluctantly, I lifted the mask to my face. Whether I liked it or not, it protected me from the cold. Apprehension turned to fear as the mask shot to life. With a chorus of clicks, a series of fibers and plates wrapped around my head. The cup at the mouth sealed with a hiss, and the steam from my breath disappeared. The air immediately felt warmer. My eyes remained blind for a few moments, before the screen on the inside of the mask flickered to life. Alien symbols danced before me for a minute. Eventually, the symbols retreated to a corner of my vision, and rock wall was revealed in front of me. It certainly seemed brighter than it was with the mask off.

I frowned. I wasn’t aware that Revan’s mask had so many gadgets stuffed into it. I was sure that without being able to read the language, I’d never know more than a fraction of what this mask was capable of. Part of me was upset, as it didn’t really seem to fit Revan’s character. Another part of me was disgusted by the first part, as I had much bigger things to worry about in the moment. Besides, Revan salvaged his mask from a war-torn world; It belonged to a Mandalorian to begin with. So who was I to say what it could and couldn’t do?

I crawled out of the cave and rose to my feet. The cold wind raked my body, and pulling the cape around me didn’t seem to help much.

“MAAAARCUUUUUUS!” I shouted as loud as I could. I could barely hear myself over the roaring winds. The mask muffling my voice certainly didn’t help matters. I pulled myself as high on to the surrounding hill as I could, which wasn’t very much. Even with my thick robes, the wind was too fierce for me!

“MAAA-AAACK!” I fell backward in surprise as my now greatly amplified voice boomed over the hills. I tumbled down the slope and picked myself up, covered in snow. I shook the slush from my head. Thankfully the hood prevented me from being soaked. I climbed the hill again, determined to take advantage of whatever this temperamental thing felt like handing to me.

“MAAAAARCUUUUUUS!”

It was a longshot, I knew it. I knew a smart criminal would never have left us together. One captive is much easier to control than two. I knew for a fact that Marcus was in the shop with me when I was drugged, or whatever happened to me. There was a chance, however small, that he was out here with me. Possibly freezing to death…

“MAAAAARCUUUUUS!”

He might have even been attacked by that pig-beast.

I strained against the storm in hopes of hearing a response. I shouted myself hoarse, until I could no longer feel my fingers.

Finally, the storm overcame me. I couldn’t risk freezing to find Marcus. As much as it hurt me, I knew that if I got sick or fell, I’d have no chance of finding Marcus at all. With a heavy heart, I dragged myself back into my meager shelter. I was too tired to mess around with any of the items I was given. My limbs felt heavy. I re-wrapped the food bar as best I could. It didn’t look nearly as appetizing anymore. Like the white case, the brown case folded in on itself when closed. One stacked on the other made a decent pillow, if nowhere near as comfortable as I was used to. I curled up on my side as tightly as I could, for warmth.

Slowly, the tension from the day seeped out of my beaten body. I felt wrecked, both physically (as I had been since waking), and now emotionally. The harsh reality of the day assaulted me in full force. I was kidnapped and left for dead. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and a bag full of crap I’ve never heard of let alone seen before. I hadn’t seen another person all day. Between the huge animals outside and the weather, I was in for a hell of a time getting out of here in one piece.

……. And I had no idea where Marcus was.

I took one last look at this place that I’d made for myself. Suddenly it felt much bigger than it used to be. Suddenly, it lost a bit of its warmth.

My limbs shook as I settled myself in for a long, cold night in the silence.

‘.... Huh. It dries moisture. Go figure.’

~==========Elsewhere==========~

A blast of icy wind buffeted Emerald Dust as she stepped out from the shelter of the local granary. The smell of herbs and spices brought fond memories of cozy nights spent in front of a warm fire with fresh stew. Of days spent with her sisters playing, and hearty family meals. Another gust of wind. She shivered and bit down, and pulled her cloak tighter across her withers, covering her deep green form. She shrugged as best she could, to settle the weight of the old, poorly made armor that made up her uniform. Really, it was little more than layers of heavy cloth and animal hides sewn together with careless abandon. Perhaps, on occasion, a militiamare would add their own personal touch in the form of a slate salvaged from the mines, or a piece of hoof-carved wood. The practice was rare, though, given than armor was shared between her and her fellow guardsmares.

She carefully picked her hooves up with every step. Even now in the warmest months of Spring, the snows were deep enough in these parts of the Empire to complicate everyday life. For Emerald, this meant being careful not slip and fall, and not to lose her shoes. Though standard issue among the Crystal Guard and the various militias and watches around the Empire, it was rare for the outlying towns and mining communities to get a shipment of fresh kit. Such luxuries were reserved for the Guard.

Thus, Emerald’s own shoes hung loose upon her hooves, made for a pony larger than her. A strip of cloth wedged in each shoe kept them in place. Emerald couldn’t complain. At least the cloth helped keep her hooves warm!

Emerald skirted several homes at the edge of the small mining hamlet. She checked the torches posted every ten body-lengths, to ensure they were not low on oil. Thankfully, several were running low, affording Emerald the option to lighten the heavy oil jug she was required to carry when she took her shift.

Between refills, she snuck a look at the edge of the trees beyond. The Crystal Pines forest was as dark and foreboding as ever. The trees were quite thick, even at the edge of civilization. What little light the torches provided quickly died in the inky shadows that clung to the forest floor. Even with the blustering wind shaking everything around her, to Emerald every rustling leaf and branch sounded like any one of the menagerie of predators that lived in the deep wood. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold passed through her spine, and she resumed checking the torches and refilled them with renewed enthusiasm.

Crunch! Emerald leaped in the air and swung the heaviest weapon she had, her oil jug. She heaved with all her might directly behind her, but her weapon shattered under the foul beast’s wicked--

-- ... Armored hooves.

The old guardsmare that stood behind her was drenched in a torrent of foul-smelling oil. The once proud plume hung limp from atop her platinum helmet. Bright orange fur dripped onto the onyx-encrusted breastplate that all Border Watch wore. Her black mane hung in ratty strands from under the soggy helmet. They framed her well worn face, which seemed carved from sheer hate at the moment.

“Are you MAD?!” The Tiger roared at Emerald so loud that several homes lit up from within. A few ponies poked their heads out of doorways and windows, and while some lingered, most were quick to disperse when they realized there was no danger. Ponies in the village were hardy, and had little time to waste on the Emerald and her skittish ways. No time that couldn’t be better spent resting after a hard day, anyways.

Emerald flinched as the Tiger (as the rest of the town watch had come to call her) stripped her helmet off and shook wildly. Thick drops of oil drizzled all over Emerald, and her attempts to wipe off the rancid liquid only resulted in dirty smears. Emerald shivered as the oil stole any warmth her cloak previously provided. The night felt that much colder. She shuffled nervously from hoof to hoof as the Tiger muttered under her breath. Her Northern Reaches accent gave her speech an odd cadence, with hard consonants and extended ‘U’s, capped with the occasional trilled ‘R’. Even the profanity that streamed from the old mare’s mouth sounded oddly musical, and just a little bit intimidating.

The Tiger stamped the ground in front of the smaller mare. Emerald snapped to attention after a full second of panic. The Crystal Guard eyed her salute with disdain. It was sloppy. Shaky. She glared at Emerald, with ears pinned back and her tail swishing. Emerald fought the urge to make herself as small as possible. The Tiger took a long and loud breath before addressing her.

“Would ya like to explain to me why ya struck me with your oil jug, cadet?” She spoke in low, menacing tones. Her hoof scraped the ground, quickly becoming muddy. Emerald’s head hung low.

“I, um… thought you might be a monster?” She offered with a sheepish grin. The Tiger stared blankly for a minute. Then she swore.

“This is why I hate patrol duty outside the Shield! You backwards yokels and yer silly superstitions! How do ya ever expect to become a full fledged member of the Guard if ya flinch and whine at every sound that--” She turned back to Emerald, who had sunk to the ground, forgoing all semblance of professional discipline. The Tiger sighed, and straightened her stance. When she spoke, she kept her voice low and devoid of the harsh tone of moments before.

“Look, maybe you should consider going back to the mines,” Emerald rose to protest,” Or at least consider applying for auxiliary duties! Yer clearly not fit to be a full time guard. This is your third rough week in a row, Emerald Dust!” Tiger offered a reassuring smile.

“There are mares better suited to this line of work. Ya don’t have to push yerself so hard. Iffin’ yer---” Emerald shot to her hooves.

“Wait, please! I can’t stop now. I said I could do this, and I really really mean it! Honest!”

“Emerald, ye’ve been saying that for a while now. Perhaps yer better of with your mother, in the mines?”

“I can’t go back, ma’am! I just can’t. The mines are so dark and stifling, and the hours are sooo long. I’ll die in there!” She cried. Tiger rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic! You know as well as I that no pony dies in the mi--”

“I meant of boredom!” Emerald waves her forelegs for emphasis. Tiger had to fight to keep from chuckling, if for no other reason than to preserve her practiced mask of calm. Emerald caught the glint of amusement in her eyes and lowered herself. Her cheeks colored.

“I need this.” She looked the Tiger right in the eye. “ My mother is a miner, her mother was a miner, and her mother, and hers. I don’t want to spend my life wasting away in some dingy cave just so my foals could say the same. This,” She shook her armor with a hoof. “is my chance . To get out of here. To change that. Please…” Emerald’s ears flattened somewhat under Tiger’s gaze.

“And you expect that to just make up for three weeks of shoddy performance? A wee speech and everything is made better?” Tiger’s expression hardened. “My job is to create soldiers. Mare’s who can do what must be done to serve and protect the citizens of the Empire. You speak of this profession as if it was ship to a distant land, here to whisk ya away to a life of adventure.” She turned her gaze to the town, and beyond that, the distant edge of the Shield.

“Look out there. All those ponies rely on the mares that wear this uniform. They rely on us for safety and guidance, and for justice, should it come to that. It’s a hard life, Emerald. And iffin’ I’m being honest here, I’m not sure yer right for the job. Why not join yer father at the merchantry? Ya can see more of the Empire with him than with yer mother.”

Emerald’s face scrunched up. “That’s stallion’s work! Besides, I… “ She glanced in the direction of her home. “I said I’d do this. I know I can do this. I know it isn’t much, but really, isn’t that enough?”

The two mares stood in silence for a while. The moon slowly sailed through the sky, a silent observer to all. Emerald’s ears twitched as she tried in vain to scrape dried oil off of matted fur. She sighed and pulled her crusty cloak around her. At least it was warmer.

Tiger watched her companion from her peripheral. Emerald watched the cerulean glow of the Shield with wide, bright eyes. A small smile graced the young mare’s features. Already, she was far more calm than the Tiger had ever seen her. She noted with surprise that Emerald looked far more mature when she wasn’t frightened or laughing. Gone was the small filly playing dress up in a grown mare’s armor. In her place, the Tiger saw dozens of other mares, of all shapes and sizes. Some confident, cocky mares in their prime. Others, stern and silent as statues. All of them stood tall and proud in their gleaming platinum armor. The Tiger had trained them. Perhaps Emerald wouldn’t be so different. Still…

“I will not train you. Yer unfit to wear the uniform.” She turned to face Emerald, who focused on the Shield. “When the sun rises, I will personally make sure you turn in that armor.”

Emerald stayed quiet for a long time. The Tiger sighed, sure that she’d knocked the spirit out of her. Then:

“You can do that. I won’t stop you. It’d probably be better if I made my own armor, anyway.” She turned to the Tiger with a grin. “If we’re being honest here, this set isn’t that great.”

The Tiger sighed.

“You can take the armor, and tell me I’ll never be a guard. You can do it until you run out of breath, if it’d make you feel better. It won’t stop me from showing up for the morning runs, or sparring practice, or etiquette classes. It won’t stop me from being a guard. You won’t stop me.” She looked at her superior officer, and tilted her head at the wry grin she wore.

“Good answer.” The Tiger smiled.

“Iffin’ we’re going to do this, however, yer going to do what I say, when I say it. Understood?”

Emerald beamed.

“Ma’am! Yes, Ma’am!” She snapped to attention as best she could in her filthy armor. Still sloppy.

“Good! First thing’s first, then! Repeat after me! ‘The beasts can not pass the torches!’”

And Emerald repeated.

“Excellent! ‘I will do my duty no matter how scared I get!’”

And Emerald repeated.

“‘There is no such thing as monsters!’”

And Emerald faltered.
“But, Mother says that if we aren’t careful, than the spirits of the forest will--” The Tiger stomped.

“Oh, for pity’s sake! Don’t be ridiculous! There’s no such thi-- Look! Did you, or did you not just finish telling me ya’d do whatever I told ya to? D’ye plan to relent already?”

Emerald shook her head frantically.

“Okay then! One more time. ‘There’s no such thing as monsters.’”

“There’s… no such thing as… monsters.”

“Again.”

“There’s no such thing as monsters.” Emerald’s ears twitched, and she snorted softly. The Tiger ignored it.

“Louder!” Emerald stood up as tall as she could.

“There’s no such thing as--!!”

MAAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAACK!

Both mares jumped at the inequine howl that filled the air! Emerald landed poorly and nearly fell back, only to be caught by the Tiger. Around the town, dozens of homes lit up. Doors slammed as worried ponies walked out into the night air. Emerald’s ears twitched this way and that. She’d hoped desperately to find the source.

MAAAAAAAAARCUUUUUUUUUUUUS!

Emerald, the Tiger, and every pony flattened their ears against their skulls, hoping to block out the noise. While not so loud as potentially damage a pony’s hearing, the sound echoed over the hills, making it seem as if multiple voices were joined as one. Deep in the distance, the shadows of a storm raged over the depths of the Crystal Pines. Thanks to recent developments, the ponies of the Empire were no longer at the mercy of the wild storms that plagued the wilderness.

Emerald turned to the Tiger. “What was tha-” She stopped. The Tiger’s face had turned hard and flinty. Her muzzle showed every line that’d been hidden before. Her ears were ramrod straight, and fixed towards the forest. Her hooves twisted slightly beneath her, subconsciously shifting her hard-edged shoes into a better place. Yet her body never moved from that battle-ready crouch.

MAAAAAAAARCUUUUUUUUUUSSS!

Behind them, in the town, worried mares herded their stallions and foals indoors. The cries of terrified colts and fillies could be heard, albeit barely, over the sound of frantic questions and screams. Some mares left their herds behind to gather in the center of town with whatever weapon or tool they could scrounge up. Emerald could see the occasional guardsmare or watch volunteer push their way through the crowd. Some tried desperately to maintain control over the townsponies. Others simply passed through it, their eyes searching for… something.

In the mob, some could be seen gathering food and bits into blankets. An offering to appease the angry forest spirits.

MAAAAAAAARCUUUUUUUUUUUSSS!!

Emerald was shaken out of her stupor by the Tiger, who had her hoof on her shoulder.

“You wanted to be a guard, well, here’s yer chance.” She pulled out a roll of parchment and a small piece of metal. She grasped it with her hoof and dipped it in a small pot taken from her saddlebags. She pressed the object to the surface of the parchment, and it left a small mark in black ink. The mark of the crown. Emerald couldn’t read what was on the paper. She’d never paid much attention to her father’s lessons. It didn’t matter, though.

The Tiger rolled up the scroll and placed it in Emerald’s saddlebags.

“Go. Gather the others. Give this to Windy Plains. Tell her to take it to the nearest garrison. Do you understand?”
Emerald nodded as another scream shook the world. Tiger frowned.

“Repeat what I told ya.”

“Gather others. Windy Plains. Garrison. Right?”

“Good enough.” The Tiger turned to face the Crystal Pines. Even from here, the sounds of animals shrieking and squealing and howling shattered the once silent night. Peppered in this cacophony was the sound of the storm raging in the distance. Every now and then, the horrible roar would pierce the dark, punctuating the chaos that this night shift had become.

“When you’ve delivered the message, gather the others and meet me here. After you’ve delivered the message, not before! Tell everypony to return to their homes. Make it an order if you have to. Now go. GO!”

Emerald turned tail and galloped into town to carry off her assignment. She ran with no regards to her own safety, and lost one of her shoes on the way. Most nights she’d be very careful not to lose her shoes. Most nights she’d be afraid of slipping on the icy roads, afraid of breaking a leg.

This was not most nights.

So she ran, as far and as fast as she could, to do her duty as a guard. She ran, and all the while, the terrible screaming echoed behind her.

Author's Note

The fact that there's a second chapter of this is amazing to me. If there are any views on this thing, It will have far exceeded my expectations already.

If you're here, reading this note, I want to thank you. I didn't expect I could write anything that would get someone to the second chapter. Thanks for giving this some of your time.

There's a few things I wanted to talk about. You don't have to read this if you don't want to! :pinkiesmile:

The setting.

I struggled with where to drop Carlos for a while. A large part of me really wanted to drop him in the Everfree. Again, as cliched as the idea is, I can't deny how fun an environment the Everfree is to write. Some of my favorite fics take the Everfree forest and turns it into this huge, sprawling ecosystem!

I decided against using the Everfree because it would infringe upon another project I'm working on. A story of of survival for two friends in the Everfree. It's an exercise in minimal pony interaction for me.

However, I wanted an environment where Carlos could be left to his own devices for a while. A place where he can have a place to think, and decide for himself what to do. More importantly, I wanted a place where he'd be forced to care for himself. Where he'd HAVE to rely on his own efforts to stay alive. I felt this would help offer a crucible in which Carlos could change as a person realistically.

I'll be the first to admit, however, that my attempts at character portrayal are shoddy at best! Hah! Still, that's why I'm here: To work on said skills.

I can say that I had a blast writing about all the gadgets Carlos found. I did want to say that some people might be confused that Carlos, an avid Star Wars fan, wouldn't recognize some of the gadgets based on description. I did this intentionally. I tried my hardest to portray the fact that Carlos has much bigger things on his mind, and couldn't connect the devices to what he knew from SW lore. I hope I did well.

I take solace in the fact that even if he did know what they are, there's no guarantee he would know how to use them.

One thing that truly surprised me was the interactions between Emerald Dust and the Tiger. To be perfectly frank, I originally planned that whole scene just to be a hook for Carlos to become involved with Equus as a whole. At first, it was just two random guards, trading insults and shooting the shit on a boring night. I never planned for them to get their own personalities, nor did I plan to do anything with them.

When I was writing, however, one thing led to another, and well... they just sort of came to life for me. I remember being halfway through that scene thinking 'What the hell am I doing?'

I can't say I'm disappointed with the results. I had fun writing about them, even though on the whole, it felt like I started them halfway through their own story. I sincerely hope their introduction wasn't too jarring for you.

And as for the Tiger's accent? It's based off a friend of mine's charming brogue. However, I find that she's remarkably vague about where it originated. Every time I ask, she just tells me 'Europe, or something'. At this point, I suspect she's messing with me.

I did my best to recreate it in the text, however I avoided enunciating it too much. It's simply a matter of personal taste. In the Fics that I read, when it comes to accents, I find that less is more. The readers are more than capable of imagining an accent on their own. So I limited it to words that are inherently changed, rather than just pronounced differently.

For example, Applejack might pronounce the word 'Apple' differently from the way Twilight does. However, while Twilight would say the phrase 'You all', for ponies like Applejack, it's condensed into the word 'Y'all'. The major exception to my rule is the pronunciation of 'You', which varies for the Tiger based on how agitated she is.

This is the approach I take when writing accents. I write phonetically if it's absolutely necessary, but otherwise leave it to the reader's imaginations. It's simply much cleaner and easier than spelling everything out phonetically. And as a reader, I respect writers who can trust their readers to do so more.

At the time I am writing this, 22 whole people have given me a thumbs up! 22! That's insane to me! I've lost track of all the people that have favorited my story. I want to thank all of you for the attention you've given me. I truly hope I don't disappoint you! You guys are great!

Special thanks to the TownCrier and GMD, who actually COMMENTED on it! I love hearing feedback from other people. I hope I get to hear from more of you soon.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm terribly sorry if you didn't. Either way, thank you very much for your time, and for listening to my inane ramblings.

Overwhelmed

~==========Marcus==========~

He was right there.

Standing right there. Just standing. Twitching. Screaming. Running. He was there- Right there! -Then… poof!

I looked down. I looked up. I was so close. Four, maybe five feet, tops. I could have touched him. Could have grabbed him. Could have dragged him to safety. Why didn’t I? He was clearly hurting. He was clearly not alright. That… that wasn’t like Carlos at all. Carlos didn’t ask for money. Carlos didn’t twitch and jump like a meth addict. Carlos didn’t scream at people like an angry lion. He certainly didn’t throw hands at me. Ever.

That wasn’t Carlos. That was not my brother. That was Carlos twisted. Changed. Made wrong.

~==0==~

I knew there was something wrong from the moment he burst into the room. Or at least from when I noticed him. I freely admit that maybe I was a little too engrossed in the match for my own good. And honestly, could you blame me? My deck was destroying! My Jeskai deck was tearing through anyone without an optimized deck, with a chance to pop Ascendancy within the first 4 turns! A constant barrage of attacks almost instantaneously! It was just my style. Why risk missing with a single shot when you could flood the battlefield with explosions? There’s no kill quite like Overkill! It’s the same reason Carlos and I worked so well together. He prefered to play smart, I preferred to play hard. He was the light, I was the heat. It didn’t matter what it was. We just clicked!

I was having trouble with an Abzan player- desperately regretting my lack of controls- when I noticed the commotion. People were yelling at ‘some asshole’ at the edge of the tables. While not uncommon in a Magic tournament, it was always entertaining to watch who’d make an ass of themselves at these things. Besides, whatever gave me an excuse to think for another minute or two was always welcome.

I smiled when I noticed Carlos’ hood poking through the crowd. I knew he couldn’t stand this game, but he came to watch me anyway! That smile died when I saw him clearly.

He paid no attention to the people he shoved out of the way with an exaggerated sneer on his face. His robes were damp, with large sweat stains under his neck and pits. His hair hung limp with the stuff. Once light brown skin had faded to a stale yellow, and shone in the light.. If I didn’t know it was him, I’d have said that the man in front of me was suffering from at least several months’ worth of Jaundice. Deep bruises surrounded bloodshot eyes, and hung impossibly low on his cheeks. Combined with at least several days of stubble on his previously clean-shaven face, it looked like he hadn’t slept or bathed in weeks. ‘He’d never walk outside like that, ever.’

I dropped my cards. I think my opponent protested, but he didn’t exist to me anymore. All that mattered was the sorry state my buddy was in. When I left him, he looked fine. In an hour, he turned into… this.

It took me a few seconds to realize he was talking to me. I asked him if he was alright. He responded. It was only a few words in when he dropped the bomb on me.

“I need to borrow $50!” It sounded more like a command than a request.

My mouth opened and closed with no sound, like a fish out of water. Carlos… Carlos never asked for money. His family was big on never owing anyone anything. They worked for what they got. He certainly inherited that much from his folks. I dropped my deck. I don’t even remember picking it up. Dozens of scenarios raced through my brain, from the mundane to the ridiculous. From breaking expensive objects in one of the stalls to extortion. I ruled them all out. Even if he did break something, he’d never ask me to pay for his mistake. I couldn’t think of anything else that’d justify him asking to borrow money. As for extortion, Cons weren’t typically the atmosphere for that sort of thing. Even if they were, he was more than capable of handling himself. Even if he couldn’t, he had me.

I pulled out my chair, and he slammed it back under the table, which rattled and slid an inch or two. My opponent complained and picked up his cards. His words fell on deaf ears. Carlos didn’t want to sit and breathe. He didn’t want to relax. He begged me. My normally proud friend straight up begged me…

I went stupid for a short time. I couldn’t help it. In front of me was something that could not possibly be happening. It was like looking at someone else in a well made Carlos costume, reading his lines poorly. I thought for a moment that maybe the food we ate earlier was laced with something. The thought sent shivers down my spine.

I was brought out of my funk by a steel grip. I looked down. Carlos was hugging me across the chest. His forehead left a greasy smear on my shoulder.

“Thanks, Dude! You’re the best!” He yelled as he ran back out of the room.

I stared dumbly for a moment. I looked to where he used to be, then to the wallet in my hand.
“God damn it!” I took off after him. My opponent yelled out, pointing to my deck on the table. I kept running. The tourney organizer warned me of my impending forfeiture. I didn’t stop. They seemed so small to me then. So petty. Fuck the cards. Fuck my opponent. Fuck the tournament. My brother was in trouble.

After a few minutes, I severely hated the fact that Carlos was smaller and faster than me. I dare anyone to keep up half as well as I did. He dodged between stalls and through crowds. Several times I had to cut through another aisle to catch up. My lungs burned and my knees ached. This armor was heavy! I didn’t dare stop running, though.

We must have circled the Con twice before we stopped. Each time I caught a glimpse of his face, the metal ball in my gut grew. He was all wide eyes, twitching, and frantic panting. He was running scared, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. He slowed down, and finally stopped at a dark corner of the marketplace. I dropped to my hands and knees. I’d been running on fumes for a while. That dinky burger was barely enough to tide me over, let alone give me the energy to run a 5k in battle armor, fake though it was. I gave myself some time to let my hammering heart settle down. If I’d had the time, I’d have gotten a drink. Dry swallowing saliva could only help a dry throat so much.

I heard talking, but didn’t focus on the words. One voice, confused and nervous. Carlos’ was angry. I looked up. We were at some cheap shop I’d never seen before. Carlos was arguing with some kid. He couldn’t have been older than 17. A high-schooler. Granted we weren’t that far ahead of him, but still. Carlos growled at the kid, who stepped closer in response. He had a glazed, far-off look in his eyes. It sort of looked like he was running on autopilot. Like he just wasn’t aware of what was happening. Someone, neither of them, cleared their throats. I looked at the vendor behind the counter.

A slimy feeling slithered down my spine. The guy who ran the shop was a BIG dude. Very big. His grey shirt stretched over the muscles of someone who clearly lifted at the gym, and lifted often. The face stenciled on it was thin, distorted. His own face looked…. off. Like it was a mask stretched on too wide a head. He was shaved bald, and wore a green visor. He was tall, though not as tall as me. None of that scared me. I knew I could take him if I needed to. His eyes though…

Those eyes held no mercy. For anyone. They were hard and flinty, and sharp as a tack. Dark brown, almost black, and dead inside. Nothing escaped their gaze.They were the eyes of someone who’d sell their little sister for a profit. They were the eyes of someone who was used to leaning on people too stupid to stay away from him for a living. I’d seen them before, on the older dealers from the old neighborhood. Not the dime-a-dozen ones the sold from their houses, the ones who worked in the warehouses, who’d either been to prison before or dodged on some other poor bastard’s luck. I’d seen them on the bangers that hung on the corner, all tattoos and affected swagger. They were common on the older members, the ones who’d already paid their dues. I’d seen them on the guy that hung around the alley down the street with nothing but the rags on his back and a dirty knife, stinking of booze and desperation. On all of those people, the look was the same. Decisive. Confident. Capable. Dangerous.

But never like this. Never to the degree I saw right then.

Before I knew it, I was next to Carlos. The ‘vendor’ ignored me. Hot, stupid shame welled up at my relief. I looked down at Carlos’ empty wallet. I was too late. Whatever this guy was peddling, it was bad news. Before I could pull him away, though, he passed a small, blue bag to Carlos, who tore into it like it was a Christmas present. He just kept staring at it. I don’t think he blinked once. I waved my hand in front of him. Nothing. I called his name. Still, he ignored me.

His eyes widened even further, and a grin tore his face apart. He swung the bag on to his back and stared at his prize: a small, grey mask.

My stomach stopped doing flips and started boiling. ‘This? This is what it’s all been about?’ I felt my worry evaporate, and turn to anger. And I let him know.
“Carlos, what the fuck? What the actual fuck?! You think that was funny? Comin’ in all jacked up and shit? Making me chase your scrawny ass all over the place, for this piece of shit?!” I waited a beat. “Hello?! I’m fucking talking to you!” Carlos never answered me. He was slowly lifting the mask up, muttering under his breath. Occasionally, the word ‘Mine’ came out.

Instantly, my anxiety returned. Carlos wasn’t just being a greedy asshole. He wasn’t thinking. I looked around. My outburst had drawn a crowd. In the corner, one of the security guards fixated on us, and spoke into his walkie talkie. This was a bad scene. I had to get Carlos out of here. I turned and grabbed his arms. He resisted with more strength than I’d ever known he had.

I pulled. Hard. The mask fell with his arm, suddenly limp. His eyes darted back and forth, sliding over me as if I wasn’t there. Then:

“GEEEEAAAAHHHH! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!” He howled! I ducked under a vicious swing he threw my way. In a single moment, my anxiety coalesced into fear, then full blown panic. He kept swinging his head left to right, snarling and swinging at anyone who got close. A father pulled his child away. Several guys in Gears of War costumes pushed the rest of the crowd back. They threw their props down, and ambled forward, charged by the atmosphere. Ready to throw down. A couple people whipped out their phones. Some phones flashed, others just stared at the scene. A few teens stood and jeered, their insults punctuated with laughter. The security guard from earlier rushed forward, and tried to talk Carlos down. He kept his stance non-threatening, but seemed ready to use force if necessary. A real professional guy. Carlos threw a sloppy punch his way, and he stepped back easily. The GoW cosplayers from earlier braced him with promises of support.

I stepped forward slowly. Carlos seemed dazed. His animal snarl had died, and a new look took its place. He stared at the crowd, and backed into the corner. I could hear the crowd close in behind me, despite the guard’s warning to the contrary. When he hit the wall, Carlos shrunk down, hunched. He hid his face. I could barely hear him, whispering to himself. He sounded strange, like his voice was echoing in a large room. I spoke to him.

“Dude. Listen. It’s okay. Just come with me, and we can talk about this.” I kept my voice low, and as soothing as I could. His eyes bolted to me. It was as if he had just seen me for the first time. I looked back. More security guards had shown up. With them, the light brown uniform of a police officer could be seen.

“Jus-....ay! Le-...ve m-... one!” Carlos shouted! I winced. His voice sounded… off. Low pitched and shrieking, as though accompanied by a thousand fingernails against chalkboard. I could taste bile. My midsection rumbled with his voice. Around me, people in the crowd threw their hands on their ears. Some dropped their phones. The officer had paused, at first to cover her ears, and then to ready the gun-shaped taser strapped to her utility belt. I turned to my friend.

“Please, man! Just come with me!” I could hear my voice grow higher with a tinge of hysteria. Carlos grimaced, his face pained. He looked around- eyes sliding from face to face- but saw no one in the congregation. Blood fell from his nose, only a few drops at first, and then a steady stream. He looked down.

And then he stood.

Carlos straightened his posture, his head still facing downward. The police officer behind me froze and raised her weapon. She barked orders at Carlos, to surrender and to comply. Carlos acted as if she wasn’t even there. He raised the mask to his face. For some reason, I could feel only dread.

Then it hit me. His pale skin. His messed up personality. His obsession. The vendor. The mask. Carlos.

As soon as the mask touched his face, Carlos froze solid. The crowd was silenced immediately. He slowly raised his head, the visor of his new face focused squarely on me. I couldn’t even see his eyes behind it. Then…

He fell.

“CARLOS!!”

Right through the floor.

~==0==~

I knelt down and touched the floor where he stood. It pushed back, solid as it had ever been. I tried to push my hand through, as if it’d yield to sheer force of will. It stayed strong. Mocked me with its sturdiness. I played the scene over and over again in my head. It didn’t make sense. None of his behavior fit Carlos. Even if I could explain why he acted like a rehab escapee, there’s no way I could explain him just… falling. I turned to the officer behind me.

I felt my insides turn to water.

Everyone, every single person in the crowd, had frozen in place. Their eyes were wide, and pointed in my direction. Entirely too much white showed, some heads shook despite their still eyes, if only slightly. Their mouths hung wide open, with lips pulled back in a primal manner, and shut with a loud, unison clack! They opened again. Clack! And again, several times more. Frothy spittle hung from the corners of their mouths, as each person had been hyperventilating as wildly as possible. Their arms hung limply at their sides. Dozens of hands clenched into fists that trembled. Those with phones in their hands squeezed until they crushed the devices. Some cut their hands open doing so.

SNAP! Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick--! I jumped. Next to me, the cop stared vacantly at me, her jaw clacking with the rest of them. In her hand, her taser shook under white knuckles. The darts lay on the floor several feet away, bent and useless. They hummed and clicked incessantly. I backed up, unable to tear my eyes from the spectacle. The entire marketplace reverberated with the ivory chatter of teeth. Then, collectively, the crowd drew a breath.

And the spell was broken.

As one, the people surrounding me began to disperse. Some cried in dismay upon discovering their phones were destroyed. Other simply walked off as if nothing had happened. Gone were the worried and angry faces. Gone was the creepy staring and unanimous movement. Something touched my shoulder. I flinched. The cop looked down at me with concern in her eyes.

“I said, are you alright, sir?” She asked. I searched her for any sign of… whatever the hell that was just then. She stared into my eyes, and muttered something into her radio.

“Do you need medical assistance, sir?” I shook my head, and she relaxed. I let her help me to my feet. Her hand was rough, and warm. I looked around. No one seemed to be freaking out about what just happened. No one looked at me, yet I could feel that crawling sensation, the sense of being stared at. I felt like an extra in a horror movie.

On the floor, several phones laid abandoned by their previous owners. No one even looked at them. I rushed to the nearest one with a grin on my face. The pictures! They would certainly help me prove my case! I picked one up, an iPhone with a bright pink case. Luckily it wasn’t locked. A few seconds of navigation brought me to the camera.

“Umm, excuse me, sir. Is that yours?” I looked back at the cop, who eyed me warily. Her eyes darted from phone to phone before settling back on me. I went back to scrolling before I answered her.

“No,” I said, as I searched for the most recent photo or video. I heard her step closer.

“Then what are you doing with it, sir? Did you steal that phone?” She asked, a slight edge to her voice. I actually laughed.

“Does it look like I did?” I asked, gesturing to the other phones. “No, I’m just looking for something.”

“Looking for what? And where did these come from?”

“Proof. My friend’s gone missing. The people who had these phones were taking pictures. As for why they left these here,” I paused as I switched to the next phone. The data on this phone was corrupted, and wouldn’t play. “I don’t think they had a choice.”

Her voice took a professional tone. “Missing? Did you report it in?”

“No, it just happened.”

“Where did it happen? Can you tell me what you saw?” I stopped and gave her a long, hard look. She’d been relaying a series of numbers into her radio, presumably calling for help. Mom called it Copspeak.

“What do you mean?” I asked her. “You were there.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “I was where, sir?”

“You were there!” My voice raised a bit. “You watched it happen. He just disappeared!”

The cop backed up a bit, and held her free hand out in a calming gesture. “There’s no need to get upset. I’m just having trouble understanding what you mean. Why don’t you explain it, slowly. Hm?” Any other day, I’d have been grateful that she was being so rational. It was not one of those days.

“You saw him! He fell! Right there! Through the floor!” Her look turned worried. Her hand reached for her radio. “For God’s sake, you pointed your taser at him!” That got her to stop!

“Wait… What?” She looked down at her belt and held up her left hand, with the gun still clenched in it. Her eyes widened as she saw that she’d been dragging her spent cartridge this whole time.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit!” She rapidly pulled on the cord and wadded it up in her hands. She tried desperately to stuff the remains in her belt, and when that failed, she sped off into the marketplace.

“Wait! Wait, come back!” I yelled after her. She showed no signs of having heard me. Frustrated, I continued sifting through the phones at my feet. That frustration quickly turned to disbelief. This was the third phone in a row whose video data had been corrupted. Phone after phone, I found either corrupted data, or simply no data at all. I had more luck with the older phones. They at least displayed their photos. My triumph was short lived, however, as each photo was either of nothing at all, or was too blurry to truly see anything.

Finally, I found something: a grainy, chewed out photo. I could barely see Carlos’ face. The shot only captured half his body, but he was there. Definitely there. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and rubbed the goosebumps on the back of my neck. He was there. I was right. I was right! I looked around before stuffing the phone into my thigh pouch. No one was watching me anyway. The cop was nowhere to be found. Hell, none of the people who owned these phones even seemed to notice they were missing. A door slammed as I got to my feet. I looked over to where Carlos had stood and saw the sleazy vendor speed-walking away.

I was in motion before the words ever left my mouth.

“Hey! Stop!” I yelled. My fists clenched as he kept moving. He ignored me completely, and slid through the crowd like a phantom. I dove through the same gaps, and bumped nearly every person in the way. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw staring eyes. I heard clacking teeth. People showed up where they weren’t before. Each second I spent pushing them out of the way was another second’s distance I lost. I could barely see his shiny head over the throng now. Soon enough, I wasn’t just pushing past people, I was knocking them down as I ran. No matter how fast I went, he was always just out of reach. Ahead of me, I saw a guard at the end of his seizure. He stopped clacking and immediately turned to me. He was shorter than me by a head. I could barely see my quarry beyond his sandy, brown hair. A ‘Hi, my name is’ name tag was slapped over the name embroidered on his shirt, with ‘Steve’ written in big, blocky letters. He stepped in my path with a shout, ordering me to stop.

We collided, and to my surprise, he was much stronger than he looked. My shock was mirrored on his face, as -while not doing so easily- he was holding me back. He’d begun spouting off about causing trouble and public safety when I saw the shop owner’s shiny, bald head disappear around the corner. I pressed harder, to no avail. ‘I don’t have time for this!’

I threw my knee up. Hard.

Steve dropped like a sack of potatoes, curled up with his hands cradling his crotch. A steady stream of pained moans and mutes curses flowed from his mouth, but I had already jumped past him and sprinted away before I could tell what he was saying. ‘Sorry, Steve...’. I turned the corner and saw a heavy door swinging shut. Seconds later, I threw my whole weight at the push-bar. The door flung open and bashed against the wall, and I stumbled. The fluorescent lighting blinked faster than I could see. Every sound echoed in the dingy hallway, including the footsteps ahead of me.

‘There!’ Baldy was yanking open a door on right right side. His formerly huge arms were now sagging, and thin. He turned to look at me. The wrinkles did nothing to lessen the severity of his gaze. It burned with just as much vitality and malice as before, though, for the first time I matched its intensity. I stepped forward, fists clenched, ready for whatever he had to throw at me. To my surprise, an arm shot out from my right, and stopped my advance. The kid in the jedi robes scowled at me. Strangely, his bright green eyes shimmered, as though he was about to cry. I had no idea what he was doing there, but I had no time to waste on him, and pushed past him with barely a thought. Baldy stepped inside the door.

“Don’t you dare move a muscle, you son of a-Glrrkk!” Something yanked me back mercilessly, and before I knew what, I was thrown off my feet into several fold-up tables stacked against the wall. They crashed under my bulk, and the air was knocked out of my lungs. I struggled to inhale. I felt my spine throb with muted pain, and as I fought to breathe, booted feet came into view. A steel grip yanked me clean off the ground by the throat, and I stared into the eyes of my assailant.

The eyes of the kid.

They were slowly changing, from a green to a deep, deep brown. I could feel the gaze burning my skin - actually burning it!- with its intensity. It felt like I was being swarmed by fire ants. I clawed at his hand in a vain attempt to get loose. Pressure started to build as his hands blocked blood flow in my head. Out of desperation, I threw a hook as hard as I could into his stomach. It was like hitting a heavy bag; he ignored me completely. I fought as hard as I could for air, so much so that I was grateful when one of his hands dropped from my throat. He kept me pinned against the wall with one fist as he drew the other back.

WHAM!!

For the briefest moment, I was sure I’d been run over by an 18-wheeler! My meager lunch shot up my throat, stopped only by the pressure he was putting on it. Pain bloomed as he slowly ground his fist into my stomach. Those terrible eyes glinted with satisfaction, and he pulled back his fist again.

WHAM!!

All went black for a moment. My throat bulged with the contents of my stomach begging for release, preventing me from drawing any breath. Stars of every color and shape swam around the edges of my vision, and warmth trickled down my leg. I could feel my eyes bulge from the sheer pressure, and I feared that at any moment they could pop out.

WHAM-CRA-CRACK!!!

Something gave way in my chest, and a lightning bolt of pure agony shot up and down my body. Behind me, I could hear the crumbling of rock. Darkness slowly consumed everything in my sight and--

Suddenly, it was over. The vice-like grip around my throat disappeared and I dropped like a brick. My first instinct was to gasp for air. Bad idea. Powerful convulsions wracked my body, and I retched, hard. In my desperation, I aspirated bile, further tormenting my lacerated lungs. Every breath felt like I was inhaling a fine cloud of razor blades and barbed wire. A heavy weight had set on my chest. My heart raced and a million thoughts shot through my brain. My lungs worked furiously to get some air in me, and the next few minutes were a haze of coughing, painful wheezing and more vomiting. Each breathe only brought more anguish. I tried breathing, I tried not breathing. Nothing stopped the next wave of fresh hell from coming. Tears leaked from my eyes with each stabbing flare of pain. I tried to turn around, to sit up, but my arms had no strength left. I collapsed on my front, adding more force to the storm within.

‘This is it.’ I thought. For just the briefest moment, my thoughts stopped. My body continued to hyperventilate, but the pain didn’t reach me. I was miles away, looking down at myself. Everything was calm. Focused. Clear.

‘This is it. Jesus… I’m sorry, Mom. Dad. I’m sorry this happened.’ Two booted feet walked into my view. Without my direction, my eyes slid upwards. He looked bored. He looked bored! Like he was watching a cockroach flipped on its back, suffocating to death. Slowly, he lifted his foot.

‘I fucked up. God, I fucked up! I’m sorry I won’t be there anymore. That you have to see this, everyone.’

And he brought it down…

‘Carlos, buddy… I’ll never bring you home now...’

I waited.

And waited….

I looked up to see him walking away. Any acceptance I felt morphed into fury the likes of which I’d never felt before. I clawed the ground, hoping against hope that I could catch up to him. My fingers slipped, soaked in my own vomit and blood. I gained maybe half a foot.

I watched as he strolled through the door. The shop owner had been watching, the barest hint of interest in his eyes. Without another word, he stepped back. The door swung shut behind him. It slammed with the finality of a judge’s gavel. As the echo dissipated, a new sound broke the silence. A moaning, long and low. Filled with a brand of misery I’d only read about until then.

Soon, I felt the toll of the day weigh in on me, a powerful fatigue sapped my will away. I fell asleep to the sounds of my own sobbing.

It was a troubled slumber. I dreamed of people running into the hall. Of the police breaking down the door my enemies escaped through, only to find a dirty janitor’s closet. Of being surrounded by worried faces and strange instruments.

I dreamed of my mom crying over me. Of my dad reading to me while I slept. They looked so old. So tired.

I dreamed of the looks of devastation plastered on Carlos’ dad’s face. Of his aunt’s empty stare. Of his manic grin. Of my rage and impotence.

But most of all, I dreamed of the one who stole my brother from me.

~==========Carlos==========~

“C’mon… C’moooon!” I begged the tiny pile of twigs and grass as I assaulted it with a stick. I rotated it in my hands as fast as I could, in hope that maybe -just maybe!- the universe would let me have a freebie on this one. I spun and spun, and while I hadn’t managed to make a spark, it was doing a marvelous job of keeping my hands warm. Which was more than I could say about the rest of me. I barely felt my hands as they moved, and couldn’t feel my toes. As it turned out, super breathable cloth does not make the best of winter gear. On top of that, I had no idea how I was supposed to keep warm out here. Fuck Florida. Why couldn’t I have lived in someplace that gets cold? Like Tennessee. Or Iceland?

~==0==~

I’d awakened over an hour ago, severely hating myself for not thinking ahead. All throughout the hillside, temperatures dropped as the storm raged on last night. My little cave was no exception. At first, I’d panicked when I realized I couldn’t see anything. The thought had crossed my mind that maybe I’d gone blind somehow. Thankfully, I didn’t lose my head in my panicked cursing. I brought out my phone to use as a flashlight.

I’d quickly discovered that the blizzard last night nearly buried me under a couple feet of snow. The bushes were the only reason I survived. They served as a barrier between the snow and my cave. I crawled out and stood up, surprised at exactly how much snow had fallen in the course of one night. I mean, I knew it got crazy in the north with snowfalls, but this was just plain nuts! I was just lucky I’d had my phone when-- ‘MY PHONE!!’

The widest of grins stretched my face as I realized I’d been holding my salvation. I tore off the mask, ignoring the biting cold, and unlocked it. With a scowl, I noticed the poor thing had 13% battery left. ‘Better make it count’. I climbed to the highest hill I could find and dialed 911. No connection. I held it out as far as I could, but couldn’t find a single bar!

Dial. Curse. Dial. Curse. Rinse and repeat.

“FUCK!” After my fifth try, I’d had enough. I wound up like a professional pitcher and tossed that fucker as far as I could! It sailed and disappeared past the treeline of my clearing. ‘HELL YEAH! What a throw!’

…

...

“...............SHIT!” With reckless abandon, I damn near sprinted down the hill. I almost slipped twice, but that didn’t slow me down. I had to pump my knees up as high as I could just to keep from sinking into the snow. Soon I was sweating and panting my way through the trees. At least I was warm.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I cried, hoping against hope that my little tantrum hadn’t destroyed my only means of communication with the outside world.

A few minutes of near vomit-inducing panic lead me to the place where my phone had landed. Some frantic digging rewarded me with my phone, which had imbedded itself at the base of a tree. With my heart in my throat, I pressed the button, and was rewarded with the home screen.
The relief was real. It was very, very real.

On the way back, I’d tried to scrape some of the ice and crap that had accumulated on the screen off, but found it was too difficult. The big, bulky gloves I wore just weren’t made for the corners. So with some difficulty, I slipped off my gloves and tried again. That’s when my problems began to multiply.

‘My hands…. Jesus. What happened to my hands?!’

I stared in shock as I flexed my hands, trying to view every angle I could. The digits were swollen and bright red. The parts that weren’t bulbous were pale. As I stretched them out, a disturbing thought occurred to me: I could barely feel them. I rubbed them on my robes, hoping to feel something. Anything! It was as if I was touching things through several layers of thick padding. If anything, the condition my skin was in should have hurt like hell. The sausage-like appendages should have been tender! Anyone who has ever used a hand after slamming it in something could tell you that. Yet the only thing I could feel was the barest hints of pins and needles, a tingling just under the surface of my skin that drove me insane.

As I hurried back to my cave, I realized something else. Something worse.

I couldn’t feel my toes.

‘I need fire. Now!’

Twenty minutes of frantic foraging later, and I was well on my way to survival! Some sticks and leaves and pieces of bark laid piled in my cave, and I brought the last of the wood inside, eager to turn this pile of junk into a life-saving fire.

I’d never gone camping before. For most of my life, I’d lived in the suburbs. Hell, going to the beach is the closest I had ever really gotten to roughing it. My folks were great that way. They didn’t have much growing up. I used to listen to them tell stories about what it was like growing up with so little. It helped me appreciate just how hard they worked to give me the life we had. To get us out of the barrio, and into the suburbs we lived in. It’s a humbling thought, to know that another human being busted their ass to bring you to a nice place to live.

All of this, of course, was to say that the closest thing I had to real world knowledge and experience in the outdoors was whatever I’d managed to pick up from the discovery channel. Shows like Man vs. Wild and Naked and Afraid. Still, I’d be lying if I had said that I wasn’t the smallest bit excited about getting to finally apply some of that knowledge. I wasn’t worried. I was already light-years ahead of where I could be. Humans have been making fire for hundreds of thousands of years! And I had way more knowledge than my ancestors did.

“Alright!” I shouted, with barely restrained enthusiasm. “Let’s do this!”

After all, it was firecraft, not rocket science. How hard could it be?

~==0==~

“Damn it DAMN IT DAMN IT!!” I threw the stick I had been spinning for the past two hours into the pile. It had snapped in half twice since I began. “Why is this SO HARD?!”

I dropped to my stomach and glared at the pile, searching for even the barest hints of an ember. “Light!” I shouted at the pile, as if I could make the fire start by sheer force of will. “Light!”

The pile remained, regrettably. It laid there, stubbornly refusing to spontaneously burst into flames. What a jerk.

I picked up another stick and tried again. I spun it in place over a large section of wood, hoping that sheer anger would accomplish what friction could not. “Why! Won’t! YOU! LIGHT?!’ I roared! Outside, I could hear birds flapping away in terror. I pressed down with all of my body weight and spun, only to snap the stick and fall forward. I looked at my hands. The pit of the glove where I held the stick looked worn, and covered in splinters. White hot fury boiled in my chest, as I stood up and kicked the pile as hard as I could, spraying the interior of the cave with debris. I screamed myself hoarse.

Finally, after a few minutes, I fell to my knees, and waited while my heart and breath rate slowly climbed back down. Hyperventilating in this sort of climate would do me no good.

I forced myself to breathe slowly. ‘I can’t keep losing control like this. I have to think, or I’m screwed!’

I pulled my cloak around me as I tried to keep myself from shivering. I knew then that if I couldn’t figure out a way to keep this space warm, I’d freeze to death before morning.

After a few more minutes, I’d calmed down enough to start searching my kits for anything useful. As I opened the brown kit, a feral growl sounded off around me! ~~I stumbled backwards on my ass~~ fell into a defensive crouch, ready to kick some furry ass! Only to discover that I was alone in the cave. I looked around in confusion as I heard the growl again, only to look down at my stomach.

‘Fuck me, I’m starving!’ It was only then that I’d realized that my last meal was over twenty four hours ago. I crawled over to the brown kit and fished out the bar I’d unwrapped the previous night. I tried not to drool on myself like a mental patient and took my mask off. Funnily enough, I’d almost forgotten I was wearing it. Needing to stay warm tended to put some things into perspective. Besides, it was actually kind of comfortable. Instantly, the air turned colder. I could see my breath again, but I didn’t care. It was Chow Time! I tore into my meal like a stoner at Taco Bell!

‘I… Oh god.’ I did everything in my power to not spit it up. That thing tasted like homeless people smelled! Each bite was like finding out there’s no Santa Claus again.

With herculean effort, I managed to swallow it, instantly wishing that I hadn’t. It’s like the manufacturer went out of their way to make something that tasted like regret and sewer water! With a grimace, I took another bite.

Whether I liked it or not, this was my only food for a while.

As I chewed (and tried in vain to keep my tongue away from that crap), I checked the kit. It seemed that in the darkness, I overestimated how much was in the case. I had maybe enough for a week. Two weeks if I rationed myself. I knew I could last without food for a while, though, so it was enough to make the search for food a lower priority than it would have been normally.

I finished my…. ‘meal’ and dug around some more, before finally taking out the plastic-wrapped foil from before. Hope sprung up as I unwrapped the object, and for the first time, the universe threw me a bone.

I’d seen this material before, on tv shows and survival manuals! Mylar! Sweet, beautiful mylar!

It wasn’t much. About 5 sheets of the stuff, enough for maybe a sleeping bag. My dreams of lining my cave in the stuff died quickly.

I struggled with my decision for a few minutes, before finally settling on lining the mouth of the cave with it. My thought process was this: Hang the mylar up to stop the wind from entering the cave, shiny side in to keep heat from escaping!

Unfortunately this was easier said than done. It took me forever to pile enough snow to build a wall sturdy enough for the mylar to rest against. and to figure out how to pin the mylar up with no tape or anything. I ended up pulling a little of it upwards and outside the cave and putting rocks on top to keep it from sliding down. The side with the bushes wasn’t as easy. I ended up tearing one sheet, and having to double up on that side. I filled the inside of some of the bushes with some snow to keep them from whipping around in the wind. It wasn’t the prettiest fix, but it worked. That left me one sheet to hang up when I want to close the cave, and one to use as a blanket!

I tested out my makeshift door, constructed of mylar, sticks from the failed fire, and some of the very sparse rope I had. The cave began to warm up noticeably. Not nearly enough to negate the need for fire, but it was something. Every little bit helps when you’re on your own.

I checked outside. I had a few hours of daylight left. Maybe. It was kind of hard to tell. Wherever the sun was, it was blocked by clouds and mountains. I crawled back and picked up my mask. Putting it on warmed me up enough for me to be somewhat more confident that I would survive the night. I was about to climb out, when I hesitated and went back to the kit. I pulled out the pistol I’d found the previous night. It was short, and squat, with an exaggerated bell for a barrel, like a tiny blunderbuss. The stubby gun packed away inside found a new home in one of my satchels. Though I had no idea how to use a firearm, and though this gun looked like nothing I’d ever seen before, I actually felt a little better having it on me.

I crawled back outside and picked a direction. With a rock, I scratched an arrow on a nearby tree trunk pointing back to my camp. 'Thanks, Bear Grylls!' I repeated this process as I explored the area around my cave. Further back from my camp, towards the mountains, I found a cliff face. I couldn’t climb too high, but I was able to get myself up a small ways, to a vantage point. It wasn’t easy. My leg, while still in pain, at least functioned enough for me to get that far. The real trouble was my arm. I couldn’t put too much pressure on it without pain lancing through my shoulder.

Needless to say, climbing was a bitch. But hey, at least I could still use it, somewhat. The area around my camp was tightly packed. I could barely see through the trees that obscured my surroundings, and couldn’t see the horizon, but got maybe a couple miles in most directions of unobstructed view.

‘....Whoa.’ It had never really occurred to me until that moment exactly how far out in the middle of nowhere I could be. Trees obscured most of my surroundings as far as the eye could see. I could see the mountains behind me stretching into the distance before disappearing under the forest. I could, of course, see my little cave, and further back, a grove of trees that was much thicker than the rest of the forest. I could see the river I’d nearly died at, the chunk of trees and ground that boar had torn up vastly at odds with the untouched nature around it. In the opposite direction from my little cliff face, I could see the hints of a ravine, opening up from the ground. I could see the fresh snows glinting in what little sunlight the overcast day provided, seemingly bathing the countryside in thousands of glittering jewels.

People often use the word awesome to describe, well, pretty much everything in their lives. Things like: ‘I found a parking spot in front of work today, it was awesome.’ Or ‘I managed to snag an extra soda from the vending machine today for free! Awesome!’, or ‘I found a twenty on the floor today! Isn’t that awesome?!’. Awesome job. Awesome shirt. Awesome car.

Awesome.

It’s used so much that it’s practically lost all meaning. Nowadays, awesome is used so frivolously it could be used to describe a dump someone took earlier in the day with no hint of sarcasm. People sort of forgot that something awesome was supposed to inspire awe!

What I saw, standing there on that ledge, looking out over untouched, pristine nature, the likes of which I’d never seen before...

That was awesome.

It was majestic. It was breathtaking! It was….

“No. Oh no no no…..”

Wrong. It was so very wrong.

“No. Please no. There’s gotta be something.” I mumbled, hoping in vain that what I was seeing wasn’t true. I knew that I was far. I knew that slimy bastard wouldn’t risk dropping me off too near civilization. Even out in the boonies, though, it wasn’t unusual to see signs of habitation. A road. A rusty shack. Maybe a radio tower. Hell, I’d take some garbage floating in the wind!

But nothing?

I checked the area again and again, each time hoping that I’d somehow missed something. Each time, my hope at a quick escape, or a rescue of some sort, crumbled and blew away with the wind. I’d figured that maybe I could’ve hiked my way to a road or track, follow it down to a town and call for help. Maybe sabotage a radio tower and wait for someone to come check. Or at the very least find something that would tell me where the hell I was. But...

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing nearby. It was hard to wrap my head around. There was no people nearby. None!

For a while, I just sort of sat there, taking it all in. I watched the clouds shift above me, and the sounds of birds chirping cheerfully in the distance, oblivious to the immense loneliness I was feeling. For the first time in my life, I was alone. Like, completely alone! It wasn’t like I’d just holed up in my house for a while. There was no one waiting in another room, or outside. I couldn’t walk down the street and just talk to someone. I couldn’t call the police for help. Hell, there weren’t any police out here, as far as I knew.

I couldn’t call my dad and ask his advice, and Marcus wouldn’t be bailing my ass out any time soon. I was alone. Truly alone, for the first time, ever.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hurting for a little bit. I was no stranger to being by myself, but I’d never truly been without any means of company before. Between my phone and the internet, someone was already there to talk to. Having no way to talk to anyone? It brought me down, big time. All the energy from the day was just knocked out from under me, and it was all I could do not to take an apathy nap right there on the ledge. Not only could I fall, but I probably couldn’t find my way back if I slept for too long, which would lead to me freezing to death.

I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t really considering doing just that.

As I watched the sky darken a little, I thought about all I’d left behind.

No…

All that was taken from me. I thought about simple mornings before work. About good breakfasts and talking to my friends. About visiting my dad in the afternoons, listening to him talk about his latest project around the house, or complain about boredom in retirement. How he’d always take a minute to listen to my problems, no matter what he was doing. How he’d put a tool in my hand and made me work out my frustrations on a leaky faucet, or a stubborn garbage disposal. I thought about Tía Yvette, and her amazing cooking. How she’d do her damnedest to make me gain 20 pounds every time I came to see her. The fact that every time we talked I learned something new. The times she used to help me with my homework when I was small, because my dad couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that math had letters. That she basically stepped in to help raise me after my mom was gone.

I thought about Marcus. I thought about we met, and how we’d stuck to each other like glue, since elementary school. How he’d always had my back, and how I’d had his. Giving him shit over his nerdy interests, only to get sucked in right with him. How pissed I was when I stopped growing and he kept getting taller. All the times I talked him down when some pendejo was giving either of us a hard time. Cheating at tests back in school with him, then getting caught and serving some serious detention together. Graduating, then heading to college together. His absolutely shitty DJ phase (DJ StaTtikz… pfft!). All the little things that didn’t really matter, and yet meant the world to me.

Finally, I thought about the future. Finishing college with my best friend. Getting a good job. Meeting a girl, getting married, and having kids. Hopefully in that order. Watching them grow as I just got older and fatter, until the time I complained to my kids about how boring the days were without work. Y’know, the American Dream.

It wasn’t the most glamorous of lives. I’d never be put in the history books. I’d never create great things, or write a song that spans the ages. I’d never inspire people to follow me, or build a media empire, or win any wars. I’d never discover a planet or get my face on a dollar bill or anything. And when my kids are gone, and their kids, and maybe even their kids, my name would be forgotten.

It wasn’t the most glamorous of lives. But it was MY life. I wanted that life. Hell, I was owed that life, and no one could say otherwise. It was a simple, quiet story, that no one would ever want to hear. And what did that story severely lack? Me, dying in the woods because some asshole decided to be a huge prick!

I stood with a fire in my belly, one that I’d hadn’t felt in two days. As I climbed down from my perch, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds for the first time since I’d woken up in this hell hole. I took it as a sign.

‘I’m not giving up here. Not by a longshot’ I thought, ready to take advantage of the remainder of the day. I still had a few hours of daylight left, and I was going to use every last one of those hours looking for Marcus. He could still be out there somewhere, and I’d be damned if I let him freeze to death out here.

~~If I found him~~ Once I had him, we could put our heads together and find a way out of this forest, back to civilization. We could find our way home, and tell the police all about that psychotic merchant and his ‘hobbies’.

I reached my camp and, after checking to make sure everything was still secure, head out in search of Marcus. I’d check the place I’d woken up first, if I could find it.

“Marcus!” I called out, listening to my voice echo among the trees. I didn’t even flinch when the mask amplified my voice this time. All it meant was an increased chance to find my friend. I had to concentrate. To stay focused on my mission:

I had to find Marcus, and escape this place. Then, if I was lucky enough, I’d find that slimy fuck and beat his ass to death.

… I always considered myself a lucky guy.

Author's Note

So wow! Hi!

Heh... This is... Yeah.

First off, I'd like to apologize to you all. No, I'm not dead. I didn't abandon this story, or forget it. In fact, I've thought about it a lot these past few months.

I'm not really in the habit of making excuses, but real life sort of got in the way of me writing for a while. I won't bore you guys with the details, but the short version is that money got a little tight for me for a while. So tight I sort of had to live without some things for a while. Internet happened to be one of those things. And those of you who've ever had this kind of situation know how hard it is to get yourself back out.

While I could have feasibly continued writing, I decided to focus my efforts on digging myself out of my little financial hole. I don't regret that decision.

Still, for what's it's worth, I'm sorry that I left you all hanging for a while, there. I should have given you guys a heads up somehow (I keep forgetting that blog posts are a thing here!) I'll do better to keep you informed about delays in the future!

Anyways, I'm back! I've missed you all!

This chapter was... well, it was interesting for me.

One of the weird things I notice about this genre of Fic (which I've only recently learned was called Displaced) is that the aftermath of a person just disappearing into thin air is never really touched upon. Usually, we never see Earth again in these fics. And even if we do, it's never treated as a big deal. Like, 'Dude, that guy just vanished! ... I'm hungry, let's hit the food court'.

Don't get me wrong, I can understand why this is. The Action on Earth just isn't important most of the time, so it wouldn't really matter if the people back home freaked out, because it would never effect the protagonist.

Thankfully, for me, I have a side character I can rely on for such glimpses! Enter Marcus!

You may have noticed that I put Marcus' chapter in first person, rather than the third person I typically use for anyone other than Carlos. Well, I chose it to be that way because it's more... visceral. More brutal. You get a little bit more invested in first person in my opinion.

I wanted to show what happens to a person after they're Displaced, as well as give a reason as to why that disappearance wouldn't raise a panic at these sort of things. Thus, the introduction of some more of my head cannon. Sorry, everyone!

To me, The Merchant is an immensely powerful individual. Whether or not he has some huge ulterior motive for doing what he does to people, or whether he's simply THAT bored, the one thing he always struck me as is cautious.

It makes sense to me that he'd have some means of erasing an event from people's memories, or prevent them from interfering in any way. In this case, both. He wouldn't risk someone catching wise to his act in any way, even if they're just a lowly human. To me, He'd make sure that he had everything in his favor before he does his thing, rather than risk attracting attention from another Void being.

Simply put, he doesn't shit where he eats.

He's become so used to this, that when it doesn't work, It genuinely surprises him a little. Hence his reaction to Marcus.

As for why Marcus was immune to this? I could say that it's plot convenience, and it would be 100% correct. I just so happen to also have an in-lore reason for this.

I'll write about it later, I think.

Anyway, I hope this chapter properly conveyed what a rough situation Carlos is in. Personally, I'd like to think myself prepared for lasting a while in the wild. My friends happen to be survival enthusiasts, and I learn a lot from them. But the truth is, in an actual survival situation, not everything goes according to your ideal plan. You may know, theoretically, how to make fire, but what happens if the wood is wet? What happens if it's too cold to support a fire? What happens if your tinder just doesn't conduct heat well?

This, I think, is what Carlos is learning now.

I won't talk too much more, though. Show, not tell, right? :twilightsmile:

Anywho! Last thing I want to say is this:

Thank you all so much. 46 thumbs up, and more favorites than I can count! That's insane to me! I promise I'll do my best to be worthy of that level of praise.

I'll see you in the next chapter, everyone!