Quiet Valley

Vergil didn't know how long he had been lying upon the metallic grid while the water slowly dripped off of his body and fell through the gaps under him. The cold, uncomfortable steel, or perhaps iron, dug into the clothes upon his back and the bare coat of his legs, almost demanding him to rise back to his hooves. The devil pony, however, refused, as the pain in his body lingered and his mind remained in a state of flux. Too much had happened in the span of mere moments, and the voice, though long gone, still haunted him.

Get up.

Vergil shook his head. His back and shoulder ached from the impacts he took. His lungs still burned from managing to expel the intrusive so-called 'essence of life'. Be it a voice of the past, or his own ego, Vergil was in no mood to listen. But, even he had correct buttons to push.

You're a son of Sparda. Have you no shame? Get. Up.

With a haggard breath, Vergil positioned his forehooves and began pushing against the metal grating, lifting himself slowly near to his body's height with his hind legs following suit. He was shaky, and still in pain, but he was up with no small effort. Struggling to keep steady, he limped forward, until he reached a small set of metal stairs leading up to a door. He sat himself upon the steps and began to take slow, deep breaths, trying to get the sweet agony to subside. It was then that he finally began to notice.

He was in the room with the filtration machines, but a significant change had taken hold of the environs. Thankfully, the lights in this room were still on, allowing him to actually see. The first, and most painfully obvious, was that the cement flooring was replaced with an industrial, grid-iron grating, where Vergil could see piping and other metallic nonsense spreading like roots below, along with a deep, black abyss from which they came. The second was the machines themselves. Once, previously well intact, if a bit dusty, were now filthy and rusted. The metallic decay was strong in this room, almost mimicking the smell of blood. The machines themselves were also in reverse order. Then, he remembered were he fell, and looked up to be met with a sight most bizarre. Above him, a thick pool of water, swaying ever so gently and lapping at the walls surrounding, acted as this room's ceiling.

Whatever feeble doubts he had were finally crushed at the true gravity of the situation before him. This was no mere haunted town or demonic corruption. This was something else entirely. A wry smile formed as he gave a small laugh at the absurdity.

"That's how it is," he muttered. Honestly, he'd normally be fascinated with such a bizarre turn of events. He had heard of dimensional rifts through reflective surfaces. It was a common, albeit still rare, way for demons to breach to the mortal world. An in-between stop-over, a no mans land, that acted as a buffer between the worlds of humans and demons. It certainly made it harder for the invading party to be tracked to the source of the entry point, unlike hellgates. The only issue with it is that the ambient environment was rather thick and hostile, hazy to the point for those of weak constitution to have trouble adapting, if not outright being actively harmed while still inside. However, this...

His vision was entirely clear and, while the look of the world around him screamed danger and hostility, he wasn't feeling any ill effects, save for the harsh soreness from the fall. This wasn't some "in-between" pocket dimension that acted like a filter. This was another world entirely.

If he weren't in so much pain, he would have laughed. The absurdity of it all was almost comical. A Son of Sparda, cowering like a mewling babe in an unknown "otherworld". Oh, where had his standards and motivation gone? Vergil took a haphazard glance behind him, almost anticipating the door at the top of the stairs to swing open the same way the prior one did to strike him in the snout, like some sick punchline to a joke he was already tired of. Instead of a faceful of swinging door, he noticed something sitting precariously upon the edge of the highest step.

A small brown bottle with a label "Nutritional Drink" printed upon it. He raised an eyebrow, curious about the object, right before he turned to it slightly. Reaching out his hoof, he took the item, being careful not to drop it through the grating below him. Reading its contents, it described itself as a supplement that restored stamina and eased aches. He stared at it, incredulously, trying to recall if he had encountered a similar medicinal drink during his time in Equestria up to now. Not a single example sprung forth from his memory, making this object more dubious than its already suspicious claim. For a moment, all he wanted was to chuck the drink as hard as he could at the machines that stood before him, watching it splatter against the metal before free-falling through the grid iron floor below. The throbbing pain of his body, however, made him reconsider, almost demanding he test the untrustworthy bottle. A few moments of defiant and unmoving silence plagued him before he swiftly ripped the cap off and downed the contents. After he did, he gave a small choke and sputter in reaction to the strange bitter flavor of the drink, like a mix of chocolate, black licorice, and pine needles. Despite the less than desirable taste, the effect was almost instant, as his fatigue and ache subsided, though it did not disappear entirely. Still, this was far better than the condition he was in.

With a much more composed sigh, he lifted off of the steps and stood back up on his hooves. He fixed his jacket, dusted himself off, and checked Yamato to make sure the sheath didn't take any damage from the fall. He also checked the flashlight hanging from the lanyard around his neck, finding it had shut off sometime between his accidental dive and rough landing. Thankfully, it hadn't broken due to the rough treatment and easily turned back on with a tap. After tossing the empty bottle off to the side, he then checked his pockets and noticed he still had the maps as well as Fluttershy's picture and the note from her addressed to him. A shred of relief hit him, only for a moment, as his resolve began to swell. Turning around, he gazed at the door once more. A slightly more worn version of the door he had been trying to bash off its hinges in an attempt to get it open. There was a possibility that this door would also be jammed shut, however he doubted it, especially since it was clear something was in full control. Whatever wanted him here wasn't just going to lock him in a room without an exit. It would be pointless.

Ascending the stairs, he gripped the handle, and was immediately proven right as the door opened with a soft click. He smirked at the vindication, but it was short lived with the knowledge that he had to explore the facility once more. Considering the changes in the room he was currently in, he had an idea of what to expect, but he couldn't be certain.

Exiting the water treatment room, he let his gaze scan up and down the hallway. It seemed that, save for the flashlight hanging around his neck and the prior room, the corridor was still shrouded in darkness. What little he was able to see was only thanks to the light hanging from his neck. Still, the details presented matched the filtration room. Metal grating instead of cement floors, dirty, dingy walls with blood and rust staining the surfaces, and piping could be seen below. The difference here was that the ceiling was present, but all that was found was broken lights and further grime. He gazed towards where the direction that would lead to the boot room, but found that the hall stretched onward. In the opposite direction, however...

"Curious," Vergil uttered, seeing a door a short distance away, with another of that strange, double bodied, arm-bladed creature that hung upside down from the door's frame. The same thing he encountered before he entered this facility, chasing...

Vergil shook his head. No, he was here because passing through the water treatment facility was the only way to get back on track to reaching the clock-tower, where he could hopefully recover Fluttershy and end this bloody mission. The boy's location and well being was of minor interest. True, the child seemingly entered the building, and he did follow after with a modicum of concern, but his top priority was getting out. Rescuing the boy, if he indeed needed rescuing, comes after. Still, though, considering the circumstances, there was no way the little colt was in this forsaken hell.

He noticed, however, that the creature appeared to be in some sort of dormant state, remaining unmoving even as he took a testing step forward. Not even the radio, which had up to now consistently alerted him to presences of these strange monsters, made any noise.

As his thought of the curious nature of why that could be, the radio then suddenly began to pick up as loud, metallic scraping could be heard, coming from behind him. Vergil turned around, touching the pommel of Yamato, keeping his wits end, as the radio became louder and more distinct, with the scraping getting closer and more ear splitting.

Then, from the darkness of the hallway before him, emerged a ghastly creature. A grayish entity, with seemingly a pony like figure, had barbed wire wound carelessly, or perhaps very deliberately, around the front half of the body from waist to head. Its forelegs, folded around its barrel as if it were forced to hug itself, twitched and shifted under the metal thorns and wiring that had it in a vice. Its head, once again with missing facial features, twitched and scraped under the barbs, drawing little trickles of blood as it made major movements. This creature, much like the first encounter Vergil had while in the town proper, also adorned two horns upon its head, but this time is was the opposite horn that was broken.

The half-devil watched as its free hind legs pushed the rest of its body forward, causing the barbed wire to scrape and snare along the metal grating, making horrendous, ear piercing sounds with every labored step it made. It almost sounded like screaming. Despite the visceral noise, Vergil confidently paced forward, keeping his wits about him, watching it move agonizingly closer. Then the creature, with a guttural, gurgling roar, raised the front half of its body with obvious strain, lurched forward, and attempted to slam it down upon its would-be, blue clad victim. However, without hesitation, as the barbed bound mass came down, Vergil leaped up and to the side, kicked off the surface of the wall to get some extra height, and vaulted over the monster. He then twisted his body around mid air, readying Yamato while still in its sheath, and slammed down as hard as he possibly could, as if he were trying to split a metal helm. The hard surface of Yamato's encasing struck the back-end of the creature with a violent crack, causing it to drop to one knee. Such a stunt took a great amount of effort in his current state, admitting it would have been easier to pull off if he had his power back. With that thought, Vergil smirked from the small satisfaction he had in pulling off the maneuver anyways.

However, any victory or satisfaction was short lived as the bent knee straightened back up rather quickly, and the unaffected leg swiftly coiled in, preparing to deliver a counter buck. Vergil backed away as swiftly as he could, narrowly missing what could have been a punishing, and quite embarrassing, kick from the offending monster. He took a defensive stance, as the creature growled and gurgled, as if it were suffocating against its own body under the metal wires and slowly tried to turn around. It struggled, shifting its hind-legs backwards and to the side, as it tried to lift its frontal half to help it rotate, to very little success. The narrowness of the hallway made sure of that.

Vergil clicked his tongue. This creature was a problem, and it was clearly a bit more vulnerable from behind despite the danger is still posed if one approached too close, but it was not an immediate threat, nor did he feel he had time to waste on such a thing. The devil-pony backed away, keeping his gaze on the monster as it continued to struggle in its multiple attempts to turn around in such a tight corridor. As the scraping grew fainter and the radio grew quieter, Vergil's own tension began to subside. He eased off his defensive stance and, soon enough, was able to turn his back on it, strutting down the rest of the hall more confidently.

I'll deal with it later, he considered, eyes focusing of the narrow cone of light his flashlight produced before him. It didn't take him very long before he reached where the front entrance would be, however what greeted him this time surprised him. He saw no chains. No locks. No doors. It was just a wall now with no hint of a way out. Instead, scrawled in a messy red, a message was left for all to see.

why
do you really care?

Vergil stared, confused. Obviously this was here by the whims of the forces that be, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the reason behind it. He shook his head with a scoff. Worthless.

Instead, he turned his attention to the left, where the corridor that lead to the offices, change rooms, and washrooms lay waiting. Indeed, seeing the hallway in this direction, combined with other little cues noticed thus far, made him realize the floor plan of the facility had clearly flipped, effectively changing the layout. What wasn't clear was how much had changed between the "normal" version of the treatment plant and this new one, aside from cosmetic differences. Granted, this one didn't have a front entrance, so leaving was going to be much more of a challenge, not that the original front entrance would have been easier to deal with. He still needed keys for that, after all.

The radio very faintly crackled to life once more, combined with distant, albeit sharp, metal scraping sounds coming from the darkness in the back. Realizing he had dawdled long enough, Vergil marched down the side corridor and headed for Office 1, deciding to retread his steps he made the first time around. In the other facility, the admittedly more normal one, the first room was locked to him. However, something deep inside urged him to check everywhere thoroughly, as if this was his first search. Placing his hoof upon the door's knob, he attempted to turn it, anticipating a repeat affair from when he tried the original. To his surprise, the door clicked open, and a rush of stale air hushed out through the gaps. Vergil's nose wrinkled from the stagnant smell as the door opened fully.

The sound of the radio noise had become louder, and the metal scraping also became apparent, giving the Son of Sparda little time to meander. With that known, he opened it wide enough for his frame to slip through, before shutting it quickly behind him and locking it. Upon his entry, the radio suddenly died, as if to let him know he was out of any possible danger. With a sigh of relief, his mind finally caught up with his vision as he took note of the office's interior.

Much like the other office rooms he had explored in the 'normal' world, this one had all the standard fixings one would expect in a normal office. Here, however, everything had been utterly trashed. The desk sat in two pieces. The chair was in the corner, looking like nothing more the kindling. Decorations were smashed and artwork destroyed. Cabinets were opened haphazardly. Finally, all sorts of books and documents were torn, crumpled, ruined, and strewn about. Either there had been some sort of monster inside of this room prior to his entrance, or someone had been looking for something.

Another curious thought entered his head while he studied the scene before him. Was the 'normal' Office 1 just as ransacked as it was here? He honestly couldn't be sure, as the original room was locked. He shook his head, dispersing the thought. Honestly, it was pointless. Would he even return to the original facility? Was it even possible, given his situation. He had no real clue at the moment, and his only recourse was to press forward until he found something useful.

As he steeled his mind for the task ahead, his gaze picked up on something among the ruin and clutter. It was a nutritional drink, along with...

"A case of... bolts?" Vergil muttered, incredulous.

A box of small, hardened, slender rods no bigger then a pencil, each with one end at a point and the other end feathered, sat upon one of the many empty shelves that likely once housed the books and files that were currently on the floor. He just stared upon the innocuous little box, almost wondering if he was seeing things.

Being fair, Vergil knew weaponry did exist in the land of Equestria, but he never quite expected a portable crossbow, if the box before him was any implication. Sure, he's seen full sized ones at a glance while he was at Canterlot Castle those few times, but the presence of a portable version made for some... curious questions.

Never-the-less, as fascinating as it was to know something like that existed, the bolts themselves were useless to him for the time being. Instead, he picked up the health drink and shoved it into his pocket, before returning to the door and placing an ear upon its surface. He listened, slowing his breath and concentrating on the sounds outside. While his radio remained silent, the sounds of the metal scraping just on the other side could be heard, along with pained groaning, likely coming from the creature's struggle to even move. The sound became more distant, however, as it seemed to return down the hall from where he left it last. He remained still, only long enough to make sure that the metallic scraping was far enough away.

Once satisfied, he placed his hoof upon the knob once more and turned it, unlocking and slowly opening it. He gave one last look at the box, making a mental note of its presence, just in case. Maybe the creature hanging above that door will want it. Once wide enough, he slipped back out into the hallway, checking both directions on the off chance something was hiding in the darkness. He could hear the radio flicker back to life the moment he stepped past the door, but it was faint enough to tell him the lumbering creature was at a good distance.

Moving on, he checked Office 2, but found the door locked. He raised an eyebrow, but suspected that either he'd have no need to search here, or he'd get a key to let him in. Still, he cantered over to Office 3, and checked its door. The knob turned, but the door remained motionless, as if jammed.

Vergil gave a sigh of exasperation, but decided to count it as a blessing. At least he didn't have to waste time searching. Next on his backtracking list was the locker room. Moving to the other side of the hallway, he opened the stallion's locker room, which caused the radio to hike up in volume considerably to a rather strange noise. For a moment, it sounded slightly familiar, but said familiarity was quickly drowned out by an unknown new sound. The devil pony became guarded and cautious, respecting the warning, and slowly proceeded inside. Upon shutting the door behind him, he noticed that some of the lockers were already open. Further, at first glance, they seemed to be the very lockers he opened in the original facility. He wouldn't know for sure until he checked the second row, but considering the radio, there was probably something waiting for him there. He had time to prepare. In the meanwhile, as he moved forward with caution, he peered into the nearest open locker.

Inside, it was nothing but perhaps some books. Odd. While there wasn't anything of note in the original version of this locker, he didn't remember there being books. He snorted, deciding the powers that be were playing tricks on him, and moved forward to the next ajar locker. If he remembered correctly, inside would have been a sweater-vest with a note in the pocket if this were the normal facility. Peering inside, he found... a sweater-vest. It was almost comically disappointing to him, if the vest itself wasn't soaked in a red liquid. Vergil stared at it for a moment, not quite sure if it was blood or something else, as the whole building so far reeked of a coppery, iron-like scent, making it rather difficult to tell without touching it. It didn't matter in the end, as there was nothing else of interest inside, not even a note.

Instead, he took a breath, touching the pommel of his blade once more, and rounded the corner of the first set of lockers as the radio started to get louder.

There, he saw another shadow like entity, which squeaked in surprise upon the cone of light touching it and tried to run away. It tripped over its the little stubs one would call its legs briefly before getting back up and running to the corner. As the light was kept on it, the little shadow disappeared, but the radio didn't let up. Something else was here.

Vergil focused his light and kept a slow, steady, guarded pace, now checking the third locker. Like its original counterpart, it was entirely empty, causing Vergil to sneer in annoyance and press forward. However, upon reaching the fourth locker, he realized something. He never really checked inside of it last time. It was ajar, sure, but he immediately took the soaking wrench and left to continue the little hunt.

Slowly he moved forward, peering into the fourth locker. Inside was a body, flayed and oozing, motionless. It was hard to tell what it was before with how mangled it looked, but if he had to make a guess, this was "Spark". In the clutches of his limbs was a wrench, the same wrench he used in the original facility. It wasn't just a similar looking tool, either. Vergil had a knack for picking up on finer details, even at a young age, and this was no different. It made the half-demon feel ever so slightly off.

Deciding not to mess with a corpse for the time being, he opted to move to the last locker. Inside was a set of work clothes, goggles, hard hat, and a lunch box, all items he had previously noted when he searched the original lockers. This time, however, they were broken, torn apart, shattered, and stained with red splatters. Between all of what was in there were two additional items. The first was a small key, which read "comp." on the head. The second of which was a small crossbow with a pressure clip on the butt end, and a strap that looked like it could wind around a foreleg.

He sneered at the presence of the weapon for a moment, old habits demanding him to reject it. However, the rational part pleaded he take it anyway. He was without his abilities, and was as weak as a-

Vergil shook his head violently before finishing that thought, swiftly taking up the key and the portable crossbow. Strapping the weapon to his right foreleg, he looked it over, checking the mechanism and testing the draw. It seemed to be a single shot device, with the trigger near the front, allowing the user to fire with the same limb it was attached to by lifting the hoof and letting the top squeeze the trigger. Thankfully, the bow was elevated enough away from the limb that there was no way to fire an arrow into said hoof upon doing so. At least it's more elegant than those barbaric firearms that fool owns.

With a key and a new weapon, Vergil was about to leave, but stopped in front of the locker with the cadaver. Eyes glued to the wrench, he realized that if he indeed needed to enter the computer room he will likely need the wrench again. He gave a sigh with a roll of his eyes, only to then approach the locker. The smell grew stronger and his nose wrinkled, almost warning him to not get closer. Still, he pushed forward, reaching out with one hoof to take the wrench. He gave it a tentative touch, which elicited no response or reaction. Vergil smirked with a chuckle. This wasn't some cheap horror story filled with jump scares. A corpse is a corpse, and the ones he found so far all remained that way.

He gripped the wrench and pulled it free from the embrace of its resting place. Just as he began pulling it towards him to examine it, a bloodied, skinless hoof reached out and gripped the free end, giving Vergil pause and a sense of shock. The radio suddenly began to squeal in response in an unstable pattern of white noise. The cadaver, dripping wet with its own blood, eyelessly staring at Vergil, gurgled a growl and began choking out words.

"give it baaaaack. it's mine. it's mine, not yours. give it back... daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanteeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."

Vergil ripped free of the corpse, taking the wrench with him, causing the body to be pulled free from the locker. With a wet thud, the head slammed upon the bench as the body hit the floor, splattering the immediate area. Vergil was thankfully far enough away to avoid getting stained, but the ordeal gave him pause. He stood, holding the bloody wrench, flabbergasted. As the radio noise died down, he stared at the corpse, watching for any further signs of life, but it remained motionless as it slowly leaked red ichor all over the floor with no signs of stopping. Deciding he has had enough of this haunted house show of bad taste, Vergil turned on his fetlocks and proceeded out of the locker room.

Once outside, the radio's silence was broken as it leapt back to life with a low thrumming of white noise, indicating the monster in the hallway was quite distant at the moment. Before anything else, Vergil marched over to the restroom nearby and quickly washed the wrench and his own hooves, trying to be rid of the blood painting them. Once done, he exited the washroom and returned to the darkened hallway. Remembering the box of bolts, he charged directly towards and into Office 1, collecting what he left behind and, with careful measure, plucked one of the bolts from its resting place and loaded it into the foreleg mounted crossbow. Vergil found it was relatively easy to load, which was only slightly comforting. Pocketing the rest of the bolts, he returned to the corridor, and began taking cautious steps around the corner and towards his intended target. If he intended on using this weapon, he'd need some practice, and a demonstration on how well it works.

With the light in hoof, he soon saw the creature lumbering forward slowly all the way at the other end. Raising his hoof and aiming the crossbow, he fired, landing a hit on the monster. It let out a short cry of pain, as it started moving a bit faster forward, seemingly determined to reach Vergil before this stand off could play out. The Son of Sparda simply and calmly loaded another bolt and fired. And another. And another. Until, after six shots, the creature fell mere hoof-paces away from Vergil. It twitched violently and rapidly, gurgling and wheezing in pain as the devil pony raised his sheathed Yamato, aimed for a gap between the barbed wire around its head, and swung down with a decisive and deadly blow.

The radio soon died down as the creature stopped twitching, leaving Vergil once again alone in the dark. It is a shame it ate up so much ammo, he thought, but a necessity. He can fight these monsters face to face, but it has proven time and again to be rather dangerous if he isn't proceeding with utmost caution. This crossbow will be useful, provided he can find more bolts to feed it.

Stepping over the monster's still body, Vergil cantered over to the computer room door, fished out the key he took from the last locker, and used it on the door. With a successful 'click', the door opened, allowing Vergil inside. What greeted him was a deafening wall of white noise coming from the static plastered monitors above the computer console. Once again, the obvious assumption was that the device was malfunctioning, just like the original version. It didn't take long for Vergil to find the panel, however finding it on the opposite end from where it used to be threw him for a slight loop at first. Never the less, he immediately got to work and used the wrench to unfasten the metal from its spot.

Once the panel was removed, Vergil peered inside, using the flashlight to illuminate the shadowed interior. There he was met with a similar set up as last time, but two differences stood out to him. The first was that all of the holes, save for the center one, had some sort of object plugged in, each plug a different color. The second detail that stuck out was the note attached, which had more written than one sentence of three words. Taking the note, he began to scan its contents.

Lonely, lonely, as can be. Lonely, lonely, one, two, three
My friends are gone, but it's ok. They filled holes and made my day
Far to my right, farthest from I. A bookworm of blue, his texts tell no lie
Between us sits an ego filled jerk. His absence, I say, is quite the perk
To my left, I pity quite surely. A friend in orange that left quite early
Farther than him, so diligent in green. Was normally prepared, normally keen
Here I sit center, feeling quite hollow. For without them, I only just wallow
Lonely, Lonely, as can be. Lonely, lonely, one, two, three

Vergil raised an eyebrow. It was another riddle, this one being a bit more elaborate, all while seemingly self contained to what was before him. Recalling the previous version, all he had to do was plug in holes and leave the center open. With everything plugged in now, but the machine remaining malfunctioning and useless, this was obviously the incorrect set-up. So, with haste, Vergil removed each of the plugs until all five slots were opened, causing the machine to shut off and the static to disappear. Light shining on the plugs, he noted the different colors; Red, Orange, Green, and Blue. Gazing back at the open slots, he thought for a moment, looking over the note for clues. He then gained an idea of the solution, and began plugging the four back in. Only for the machine to show static and remain malfunctioning. He took the red plug out, and moved it, sure the others were in the right place. There was no change.

"Blast," he spat. Thinking it over, he pulled the plugs back out and read the note again, only to realize his mistake. He had them in reverse. With a deft hoof, he quickly plugged them back in the correct order, and as he was about to place the final one, he paused for a moment. "Red is hollow," he muttered, before he plugged it into the center slot.

Suddenly, the console began humming to life and the monitors above came to life as well. This time, it was the set of screens that were off in the previous version of the facility that had activated. Within them were live images of the current version of the facility, though the darkness within each poorly lit room made it difficult to see much of anything. However, one of the monitors drew his attention. The image presented was what seemed to be a book on a pedestal, sitting atop a short set of metal grating stairs. He also noticed a small red light off to the side, just barely present in the footage.

Must be the storage room, he reasoned. That book might have a clue on how to get out. My only problem is...

The printer in the console shot to life suddenly and began spitting out readings, jerking Vergil out of his contemplation. He gave an annoyed sigh, knowing he might need to read what was presented, but still despised having his concentration and train of thought broken so often. He cantered over to the piled up readouts, which was surprisingly smaller than last time, and began scanning the contents. This time around, technological jargon was entirely absent, and it seemed like mostly gibberish, up until the last few lines that stuck out to him.

My books are missing. I can't leave without them, but I'm stuck.
I wish Spark was here to help me. He'd know where they are.

"Again with this infamous Spark," Vergil grumbled bitterly. Regardless, those books back in the locker room might be useful in some way, if these papers were any clue to go off of. With the thought in mind, Vergil proceeded out of the computer room and back to the hallway, heading straight for the side corridor, down to the stallion's changing room. However, before he reached the door, he heard heavy, violent sounds of scraping metal. It was coming from the Mare's changing room. Pausing only for a moment, he listened to the noise, curious. As the sounds continued, he soon recognized what was beyond this door. Another one of those bound up monsters, but from what he was hearing, there was more than one.

As a devil hunter by trade, he normally would go in to 'clean up the mess', as it were. However, while on principle he'd avoid ever going into rooms designated for the, quote unquote, fairer sex, it was the simple matter of survivability that staved his desire to slay the monsters within. One was bad enough in a tight corridor, but a room of two, three, maybe even more was cause for concern, especially while he was lacking his powers, and had limited ammo to boot. Instead, he shook his head, moved onto the stallion's changing room, grabbed the books from the first open locker, and left without incident.

Speeding back down the corridors, he came up to the hanging creature that guarded the door to the storage/boot room. Seemingly sensing the object of its desire, the lower half of the creature started to stir, slowly outstretching its scythe-like appendages forward. This time, with knowledge of the first encounter. Vergil offered up the books to the creature, which greedily took them and brought them close in a tight embrace. Soon, just like last time, the lower half of the creature, along with the books, began to melt away from the upper body, leaving the door unblocked. Stepping up to the door, Vergil gripped the knob and found it to be unlocked, which he quickly took advantage of and swung the door open.

Inside was a darkened room. With the obvious exception of the pedestal and the fact the room was flipped, the room itself seemed rather unchanged. Everywhere the light from his lanyard flashlight hit showed the same, gray, dusty room that had existed in the original version of the facility. Not even the flooring was replaced with metallic grating below the hoofs, remaining their original concrete selves. Strangely enough, it made Vergil feel a little more at ease.

The lack of change and danger, however, made him suspicious of the situation, since the book and pedestal were still VERY much out of place in a room like this. Furthermore, looking beyond the elevated tome, he noticed that the door that once was there as his entrance to this blasted building was entirely missing, just like the other gateway.

"So, there is no way out," he guessed, "Not conventionally, at least." With a huff, Vergil decided the only thing he could do now was to inspect the book on its stand and see if it could give him any iota of an idea on how to leave. Ascending the short stairs, Vergil gazed upon the surface of the book, only to recognize the cover. It was dusty, perhaps a bit worn, but there was no mistaking it. It was a book of poetry, written by William Blake. Vergil stood stunned, then started to grow furious before he took a deep breath to calm his temper.

Wordlessly, he opened it slowly, and very quickly realized three things about this object of his adoration. The first is that the first half of the book was entirely blank, save for the last page at its center. The second is that the latter half is hollowed out, with a set of keys inside. The third, and most egregious fact of his taunting on his soul was that the only page with anything written on it was most definitely NOT written by William Blake.

Take these keys and ascend the abyss.
Though your quest has just begun,
Let water envelope and wash your sins.
Prove you're the better of your kin's,
Time is short so you must run.
Take heed your actions do not remiss.

"What trite." With an angry huff, Vergil snatched the keys, slammed the book shut, and stormed out of the room. He swiftly made his way back into the computer room and looked over the monitors for clues, only to spy something strange. One of the screens was now nothing but static. Gazing at each of the active monitors and identifying them as each room he had visited, he realized one of them wasn't present; the Machine room.

Leaving the computer room behind, he stepped over to the opposing door and took hold of the knob. He gave it a turn and pushed the door, only to find resistance. It wasn't jammed, but his efforts soon showed why it wasn't opening like it normally would. Vergil stood and gazed at the now wall of water that was before him, while the door became enveloped in it as it swung inwardly into the room.

"Impossible," he managed to utter as he took a step back. He half expected the wall of water would suddenly rush through the opening, as if waiting for the timing of his comment, but nothing happened. The water rippled and swayed, lapping at the edges of the door frame. Vergil closed his eyes, collected his thoughts, and steeled his resolve for what he now must do. He was going to hate every moment of this, but he had no choice. This was the only way out.

The Son of Sparda took a few steps back, making sure he got some distance for this, held his breath, and raced forward, jumping into the wall of water. All sound became muffled and the light was extraordinarily dim, but a feeling through his whole body screamed at him to start swimming up. So, he obeyed, frantically kicking his back hooves and paddled with his forehooves to the best of his abilities, pushing himself further and further up until he started to see light. With vigor and starting to feel the burn in his lungs, he pushed his pace as hard as he could. Just as the pain and exhaustion of the ordeal was about to sink in, Vergil finally broke through the surface and grabbed a hold of a set of familiar, small steps. Gasping for a breath, he choked and sputtered, his body protesting from the lack of air and the pressure of the water that had him. He pulled himself up to the open door, and crawled into the corridor, collapsing and coughing from the ordeal, hating life more than he ever had before now.

Once his body had calmed down, he slowly pushed himself back up to his hooves, shaking and entirely damp, but still in one piece and able bodied. He then smoothed his mane back, giving it the shape he had preferred. The moment he knew he was stable once again, he checked his pockets. All of the maps, notes, and other documents were still dry by some miracle, and all of the items and objects he had taken were still secure. Despite being soaked to the bone, everything else was in perfect working order. Even the radio and flashlight were perfectly functional, for all intents and purposes.

He gazed about for a moment, and noticed he was back in the normal facility. Behind him, in the machine room, the floor was absolutely flooded, but the water had stopped gushing out of the treatment machines. He dared not test the waters within to see if it once again became an impossible abyss like last time, and instead pushed his attention to down the corridor.

Cantering on down, he soon found himself once again before the front entrance, chained and locked up just as it was left previously. Fishing the keys from his pockets, he began to use them, one by one, and took each lock off before pulling the chains free, and letting the metal clank and clatter upon the solid ground. Gripping the handles, he pulled the doors open, only to find yet one more room to cross. It seemed to be some sort of reception or check-in area, but it didn't matter. Before him were the true exit doors, which a grey light poured through, signifying he had truly made it out.

He could now properly return to his task at hoof. With a sigh of relief, Vergil gripped the handles of the front doors and swung them open, before stepping outside once more to the fog filled town.