Quiet Valley

by Nightmare_0mega

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Fluttershy, Horror, Devil May Cry, Violence, Crossover, Silent Hill, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 21332

Fluttershy has been missing for several weeks now. With only one lead in hoof, a loved one goes to look for her. But, why does the note say she's in a town called Quet Valley, which isn't even in any of Equestria's most detailed of atlases?

It has been two weeks since Fluttershy had left Ponyville. The note left behind had told her friends that she went off to visit family. It really wouldn't have been much of an issue on its own, but it mentioned that she would return in only a few days. Her friends rounded up a search party and attempted to look for her on their own, but turned up no clues.

Upon receiving a second letter addressed to him, Vergil, a half-breed son of a legendary demon from another universe, decided to attempt to look for her, alone. He vowed to protect her with all of his might and aimed to keep that promise, no matter the cost.

Published 2021-10-31 18:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-31 18:34:11 UTC

You're Not Here

Equestria's beautiful landscape of lush forests and green pastures, with the backdrop of majestic mountains and rolling hills, blistered by as the train charged forth on its path to the next destination. It was an ordinary event for most ponies in the land, as it had remained the most popular traveling choice for most by long distances. Whether it be to Las Pegasus, Fillidelphia, Manehatten, or even Canterlot, it was common for a full cart of eager passengers to be carried off to see the new sights and old.

However, the line being taken on this particular cart was a seldom traveled line. It was journeying off to the west, to the relatively unknown part of the land that had been all but forgotten by the rest of the world. It wasn't as if this place was completely isolated, but all that have ever traveled there were said to never be seen again. At least, that's what he heard when he collected the ticket for this excursion.

The cabin door of one of the only passengers on this journey was swiftly opened, and a pony stepped through, clearing his throat. "Uhm, Mister... Vergil, was it?" A brown clad pony had asked, his dark green uniform identifying him as staff of this current railway.

Sitting silently with a sheathed katana at his side against the train wall, pale blue eyes gazing out into the landscape all around, the pony addressed as Vergil slowly turned his attention to the ticket master that had approached him. He ran his silver coated hoof through his white, medium-length hair gently, and gave his blue clad coat a slight tug to rough out some of the wrinkles, as if to force himself to focus on someone he felt was unimportant.

"What is it?" Vergil replied, irritably.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you," the porter stated, "But I must inform you that we'll be arriving near the destination shortly."

Vergil gave a quiet nod, almost dismissively, as he turned his attention back to the outside, which slowly was becoming shrouded in mist.

"I must also remind you that the ticket you purchased is one way. If you wish to make a return trip back home, as per policy on this particular line, you must-"

"I know what I must do," Vergil barked back, "You were all very clear about that back in Ponyville. I do not have time or energy to waste on discussing this matter once again."

"R-right," the staff pony stuttered out.

"Now, begone."

With that command, the train attendee backed out of the passenger cabin, and shut the door, leaving Vergil alone once again. Of course he was unbothered by the whispers and hearsay about the location he was headed for. He was a Son of Sparda, a half-devil blessed with might very rarely matched, but not quite uncontested. It was a mission in his life to remedy that error, but for now, it would be placed on the back burner, at least until he has a proper opportunity. As the silence began to set in once again, he reached into his jacket, and removed a set of papers he had been carrying. One was the note left behind from a very important individual, stating absence for a set period of time to visit family in a far away town. It was a strange method to announce such a thing, but considering the shy nature of the individual, he figured it was normal. At least, as normal as he knew for the time he had been in this world.

The second note, however, was addressed directly to him. Stranger still was the content within. It was beyond any real reasoning, even in the context of the insanity he put up with while a 'guest' in Equestria.

"I see that town in my restless dreams; Quiet Valley." he read aloud to himself, "I see myself, finding a special place, where you could finally be happy. I'm all alone now, and you're not here. But, I'll keep waiting, only for you." He stopped reading, clicked his tongue as he folded both letters and placed them back inside of his jacket pocket. Something was off about all this. She was supposed to be off to see family, and now she ended up in a town known, but not recognized by any current map? Furthermore, the second letter sounded like a love-struck fool. It made no sense. He wouldn't have believed a lick of it if it weren't for one very important fact. Both letters were in her writing. This lead to only one conclusion, which is why he decided to come alone. "Fluttershy," Vergil uttered, "What are you doing out here?" He gazed back out of the window as the fog slowly began to get thicker and thicker while the train felt like it was slowing down.

As it finally came to a stop, Vergil rose from his seat and fastened his blade to his side before he exited the cabin. He then slowly stepped down the walkway towards the exit door, where the porter was, waiting at his assigned station, already opening the door. Disembarking from the train, Vergil gazed about the lonely, barren train station. The platform was splintered and cracked, showing signs of neglect for who knows how long. Train schedules from seemingly years ago remained up and available, despite how dirtied and decayed they had become. There was a palpable chill in the air that seemed just a little bit unnatural. There's something definitely wrong here, he thought, which only fueled his suspicions over the strange note. His focus was then usurped by one off the attendees, whom had followed him out.

"Welcome to Quiet Forest Station. Mister Vergil, as per policy, I must inform you of where you need to go to contact us once your business is concluded. At the end of the terminal here is a telephone line, connected back to the nearest available station. If you wish to return home, or head to a new destination, simply phone, reserve a ticket, and follow the tracks out. We will be sure to reserve your seat for the trip to your next destination when you arrive. We may also take you back right now, if you so desire, provided that you purchase a ticked here and now."

"I know," Vergil dismissed once again, somewhat irately.

"However," the attendee continued, "This train will depart once you leave the platform. Please remember this."

Vergil remained silent for a moment, looking out to and fro from the station's boarder. "I have just one question," he said finally.

"Oh? What is it, Mister Vergil?"

"Which way to the town of Quiet Valley? If I recall, this station is still a fair distance away from the limits."

"Oh," the attendee started with a deflated tone, "Well, once you leave the platform through the exit, you'll come across the forest trail. This is the closest route to Quiet Valley."

Without another word, Vergil walked off towards the exit, and disappeared from sight. The train attendee gave a sigh, before he climbed back aboard the cart and began the final checks for departure.

*=*=*=*=*

The train station was a surprisingly small and straightforward place to navigate, but the trail that came after was a much different affair. The feeling of the slope told the young half breed he was descending down the hillside. Dense, grey fog obscured the world around him, leaving only hints of trees and the immediate surroundings reasonably visible. If he were anyone else, he felt he could easily get turned around along the way the moment he lost focus. Carelessness was the greatest foe here, which left Vergil undeterred.

He pressed on through the shrouded forest, hearing the foliage sway and rustle from the gentle, chilly wind that flowed through the fog. The sound of a crow or a raven could be heard in the distance, echoing for a moment before all became silent again. Unlike the other wildernesses he had to trek through, barring the location of the Gates of Tartarus, this place had the honor and distinction of being entirely cold, and somewhat empty. It was a strong sense of loneliness that he hadn't felt in a long while, and this time it was unforgiving.

Despite the nature of these trails, the Son of Sparda pressed forth, continuing to hike further down the trail. The constant grey was only broken up by flashes of green and brown, up until he came to a gate, that read "Quiet Forest Cemetery".

"A cemetery?" Vergil questioned flatly, "How droll."

With a gentle push, the gate squeaked open in protest, and he stepped through, beginning his trek through the hallowed ground. It was quite the normal looking plot of land, with elegant burial stones and tablets lined up in orderly rows, remaining dignified and mostly undisturbed. For a moment, he kept his guard up, more out of habit for the location he was in rather than any real danger. After all, there had been more than one instance where he encountered an ambush of demons hiding in a cemetery. It would have been quite the cliche, and a nice little change of pace for all the nothing he paced through until now. Despite his thoughts, the reality was that there simply were no threats in hiding. The less resistance, the better I suppose, he thought.

Upon dropping his guard however, and due to the fog's obscuring grey nature, Vergil accidentally stumbled over something, causing him to briefly lose his balance. Pride wounded, he swiftly regained his focus and touched his hilt, snapping towards the offending object... or subject.

"Whoa, hey, jeez dude," came the panicked voice of a young stallion, whom rushed to his hooves, but stayed low and slowly backed up. He wore a dirty khaki trenchcoat over the top of his light tan body, and a matching rimmed hat upon his brown mane. The only color that didn't fit with the earthy colors were his blue eyes.

Vergil glared at the individual for a moment, before his hoof slowly retracted away from his blade. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Hey, bub, I could ask the same thing of you. I mean, you're the one that kicked me awake, literally." he argued. Vergil remained silent and measured, cautiously watching this new individual. Said pony clicked his tongue, and gave a sigh. "Whatever. If ya gotta know, I was having a nap."

"In a cemetery?" Vergil asked flatly.

"I have my reasons," he responded. "Anyway, now that I explained myself, it's your turn. I mean, not many folks come down here."

Vergil stared for a moment before he relented. "I'm looking for someone. I was told she may be here."

The strange pony's face went from a coy expression upon hearing 'she' to one of concern. "Hold on, here? You mean as in..." He trailed off, looking about the lined up tombstones.

"Not here in the Cemetery, you buffoon." Vergil snapped.

He then gazed off into the distance, away from the forest trail. "Oh, well, that's worse."

"What do you mean?" Vergil asked, somewhat curious.

"Well, and I don't know when this happened, but," the young stallion started, going silent for a moment, "That town... There's something wrong with it."

"Wrong?"

"Yeah, just..." he trailed off for a moment, before looking directly at Vergil and gave a nervous chuckle, "Heh, you probably don't believe me."

"I haven't said that," Vergil admitted, "However, it doesn't matter. I have business to attend to in town, and if there is indeed something going on, then it's all the more pressing."

"Right." He walked up to the Son of Sparda, and offered a hoof. "I hope you find whoever you're looking for."

Vergil looked at the stranger's offered hoof, then back at the stranger.

"Oh, right, maybe you're the type that prefers introductions first? My name is Red."

Vergil raised an eyebrow for a moment, before tentatively reaching for Red's hoof. "Vergil." He responded curtly.

"Good meeting with you Vergil, and good luck." With that, Vergil let go of Red and turned away to leave, but the pony stopped him for a moment. "Oh, wait a minute. If you're keen on getting into town, just head through the gate that way. From there, there's only the one road. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Vergil responded flatly, before he finally took his leave, crossing the Cemetery, and reached the gate that lead to the town road. It was only a matter of time now before his real search began. He only hoped now that he'd find exactly what he was looking for.

Silent Heaven

The gate creaked as its frame slowly swung open wide enough for the Son of Sparda to step through. Out of courtesy, he shut the cemetery gate behind him, and continued his quest. Unsurprisingly, the gate beyond the cemetery Vergil pushed through lead to more dirt roads that stretched ever longer into the fog, which only made him sigh in irritation. How long and tedious was this journey going to be, he asked himself. As he continued to ponder questions born from annoyance and audacity, he kept pace and traveled down the lonely road, passing by more trees barely visible through the fog, and even some wooden fencing. His irritated stream of consciousness began to wane as his ears picked up on strange sounds in the fog. Specifically, the sound of snapping twigs and squelching paces. He stopped for a moment, touching the tip of his hilt once again, and gazed about. For a moment, it felt like someone, or something, was following him.

However, the moment his thoughts drifted in that direction, the offending sounds stopped, and all that could be heard was the wind and the leaves of the trees. He took the time to gaze about his surroundings, to the best of his abilities due to the limits provided by the thick fog, and sensed nothing of note. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed himself ever so slightly, and continued moving forward.

It took a fair amount of time, but Vergil found himself finally encountering signs of life. Or at least what was there once. It was a carriage, haphazardly parked off to the side of the road, seemingly abandoned, but no worse for wear. There were no signs of damage, no skid marks that could denote an accident, not even traces of hoofprints at the sides or the front of the transport. It was as if it had always been here from the beginning, and something about that made the half-devil feel a little uneasy. Never the less, he pulled himself away from the oddity, and soon found himself coming towards a strange building with no defining features, save for an opening missing its door. To the left and right, fencing blocked off possible routes, leaving Vergil with the only option. Stepping forth, he found himself in a walkway that had its windows blocked off by fencing, with newspapers scattered about the ground, damp, likely from the constant fog.

He pressed forward, ignoring the papers abound and the caution signs that peppered the surroundings, coming up to a gate at the end of the walkway with one more danger sign. He pressed against the gate, and found that it swung open easily, albeit with a loud, squeaking protest from the rusted metal. Passing through, he found himself in a less natural setting, and noticed that wherever he ended up was at what seemed to be a cliff-side. Over the edge, he could hear the faint sound of a creek, and could smell the surprisingly unpleasant scent of dirty water and rust.

Snorting to clear his nostrils of the offending sensation, Vergil backed away and continued along the newly discovered cobblestone road, feeling he must be close to the town. The road in question, peppered with bush and untamed vegetation growing off its side, had further signs of neglect with some cobblestones either cracked, or entirely up-heaved from their resting spots. The only other objects Vergil noted along the way where safety railings whenever there was a turn at any degree, and the lamp posts that stood tall, normally set up with the railings.

After reaching the end of the winding, twisting cliff-side road, Vergil came to a split in the path, however one direction was blocked off with a fence, fastened with a warning sign. He considered slicing apart the fencing and pressing forward, but felt whatever reason the route was blocked off for would hinder him more than he would like. Instead, he opted to take the alternate route, keeping his eyes peeled for any stray clues that may help in his search for the missing mare. Unsurprisingly, along the way all he found was overgrowth, the odd abandoned carriage, and more fencing to the sides, as if to discourage him from leaving the path set before him.

Eventually, after walking down the lonely path, with nothing but the wind, the trees, and the mist as his companions, his trek took him to what seemed to be the first real street of the town proper, emerging to what seemed like a "T" junction. For a moment, he wondered if he had passed by a sign indicating the town's entrance but failed to notice it, wondering where exactly Quite Valley's borders started. Shaking his head of the useless thought, he crossed over the streetway, approaching a flower shop that slowly emerged from the fog. A large banner extended across the front, indicating a grand opening, however the shabby visage it gave made it seem like the place was left to fester for years. Empty pots, damaged windows, and a distinct smell of rotting wood and rust could be picked up upon approaching the establishment. Placing a hoof upon the door, he pushed gently, only to find it locked tight. Peering through the windows, all he saw within were nearly empty shelves, dead or dying overgrowth poking through the floors, and the few pots that could be seen had nothing but soil in them. It was a sorry excuse of a flower shop, and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach because of it.

Stepping back, taking in the quiet, dead, abandoned nature thus far, he couldn't help but wonder something foreboding. Why would Fluttershy ever come here? To be fair, the rest of the town could be vastly different from what he found so far, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Besides, this land of ponies had given him one constant in his new life, and that was if there was any sign of life, any pony present would waste no time in greeting him, whether he wanted it or not. Never the less, he decided it would be best to begin his search properly, and comb the town. To the right, he could just barely make out the shapes of buildings, but only barely. To the left, he couldn't see much, but as sparse and mist covered as it was, there was a possibility that going left would lead to what blocked him earlier. Perhaps even lead to clues as to what was going on in this town. Vergil was no stranger to investigating strange locations after all, ever since that fateful day...

Deciding it would be prudent to act on his instinct, Vergil cantered to the left, following the street for a while, before he found himself at a cliff-side wall. There was another fence with warning signs attached at the mouth of a back-road exit, seemingly leading to where he had just come from through the trail. He attempted to gaze beyond said fence, but due to the fog, couldn't find anything of note that would give any satisfactory information. Instead, he turned his gaze to the opposite direction, and noticed a short alley surrounded by more fencing, with an abandoned carriage tucked into it. Strangely, the door to cab had been completely separated from the main body. Curious, he stepped forward the get a closer look, and took note of a few points of interest. The first was that the hinges of the door were actually torn. Whatever happened, the removal was a lot more deliberate. A saner individual would reason it was probably a repair job turning sour, with the door being ripped off in a fit of irritation. The distinct lack of any other signs of life, be it struggle or repair, ensured he discarded the more reasonable thought. Something was definitely going on here, just as that other pony had mentioned.

The other point of interest was what seemed to be a map sitting haphazardly on the seat of the carriage. Stepping in, he picked up the map, and studied it for a moment. It was a map of Quiet Valley, more specifically, the north-east portion of the town. The town, at least indicated on the map itself, seemed to be much more organized than other pony towns he had encountered, but not to the extent of places like Canterlot. If anything, it had similar planning structure to Manehatten. At least given his past as an involuntary nomad, he had some experience with urban navigation, so seeing typical indications of places of interest, such as the park, local bar, or clock-tower, weren't new to him. What was interesting were a few scribbles marked in red ink. He looked about the cab, and found the offending red pen that was used. Picking it up and pocketing it along with the map, he decided it would be best to keep both around for convenience's sake.

Exiting the cab, he decided to go what was decidedly eastward to the town proper, down what was known as Strong Avenue, and check out one of the nearby scribbles he noticed, which was a question mark that sat in a thin alleyway two blocks down. Passing Ball Street, he got a better look around the town within the thick fog. Every now and again he could find another carriage, either simply parked or somewhat roughed up, altogether abandoned just like the last few he saw. Some buildings looked like they could still be opened and explored, while others were very clearly locked off. Everything around him, from signs to painted walls, had a slight diluted tinge to it, as if the color had been slowly eroding away for quite some time now. He could see signs of a once thriving and probably joyful town here, but the facts before him stated this was a long time ago. Stranger still, he found one place, ironically named Joy's Pub, that had the inside of the window absolutely covered in news clippings, blocking the view of the inside. Upon inspecting it out of sheer curiosity, he found the door to be unlocked.

He let his curiosity end there however. Dallying about and checking every odd location would ultimately waste time in his eyes, and he was here on a mission, not to site-see. If it was important enough, he'd come back to it. For the time being, he decided to continue marching westward toward...

He then suddenly saw something he never thought he'd see in the land of Equestria, never-mind a lifeless location like this. A thick trail of blood leading forward along the very road he was taking. Passing St. Germane Street, he briefly saw some hard to identify figure crawl into an alleyway, making a heavy scraping sound before disappearing from his view entirely. Vergil touched the edge of his pommel once again, watching and listening for any further sensory information before he took cautious, determined steps forward. He reached the mouth of the alley, only seeing the trail of blood lead further in, but no other sign of the figure he had barely witnessed. It was as if it just disappeared, or was never really there to begin with.

Vergil gave an exasperated sigh as he made his way down the alley. He had every intention on investigating the odd clue pointed out on the map, but this small mystery gave him all the more reason to do so with trepidation. The further he wandered in, the more he saw trails and splatters of blood, either along the ground or occasionally against the wall. More than that, he began to hear a strange, but not unfamiliar sound; the sound of radio static, drawing ever louder the further he went in, following the blood. This was, until, he came across quite the grizzly sight. The corpse of a pony laid at the very end of the alley, covered in seemingly its own blood, looking like it was ripped open by... something. There, near the cadaver's foreleg, was the source of the offending noise; a small, portable radio, buzzing and squealing away.

The devil pony was about to investigate it, however another sound swiftly caught his attention. A loud metallic bang was heard, causing him to whip around and press his hoof against his blade, ready to draw. His eyes focused upon a dumpster, and out from behind came quite a ghastly thing. It looked like a pony, but all of its facial features were missing, save for the outline of a screaming mouth. Curled horns adorned its head, with one being broken. Short, thick claws, tipped in dried blood, punctuated its lanky forelegs. As it crawled slowly towards Vergil, he noticed chains around its neck that linked up to... something dragging behind it, tightly wound in the same chains. Its hind legs were nowhere to be found, as was most of the lower half of the creature.

Vergil smirked. It was obvious this creature's movement was very slow and limited, and whatever damage it could do with its claws were no more of a threat to him than a simple knife, but it was clear as day as to what this thing was. While appearing VASTLY different to the denizens of Tartarus he had to dispatch as part of his parole agreement, this was no doubt a demonic entity. A hostile, animalistic one at that, which currently made a disturbing, muffled, choking scream at him.

And so, approaching with pure confidence, Vergil lunged forward and drew his sword quick as lightning, and slashed downward at the creature. With a sigh, he prepared for the spray of blood that would follow, hoping that this excursion in town would eventually yield a place to clean himself from what he'd likely be doing while searching for Fluttershy. However, no blood followed his attack, and instead of the scream of agony, there was one of anger as the thing before him lunged in retaliation and slashed at his arm. Vergil dashed back, managing to avoid the hit, but now grew in trepidation. The blade should have hit, and that should have been the end of it. But there it was, crawling towards him with slow, painful, unholy, determined gait.

Still having a speed advantage, Vergil dashed around the side and attempted to skewer the thing through the back. As he did, though, there was no press of flesh that could be felt when blade met skin. The only thing he felt was the tip of Yamato clacking against the hard ground below.

"What in the-?" was all he could utter before the creature turned around, as if the blade wasn't even pierced inside of it, and swiped at Vergil's hind leg. He dodged, but one claw managed to nick him in the cannon of his leg, drawing a bit of blood from him. The Son of Sparda stepped back, gazing upon Yamato with confusion and fury, noting the distinct lack of demon blood coating the still pristine metal.

The creature howled its awful, muffled noise, and slowly crawled towards the hunter, having unexpectedly turned the tables. Vergil slipped Yamato back into its sheath, trying to figure out some way to dispatch this seemingly invincible monster. He could just leave, as a sane individual would probably point out, but the damnable vice of pride kept him planted to the spot. How dare this pathetic thing lay a claw upon him. The thing, now close enough to Vergil while he was internally wrestling with his own emotions and injured pride, took another swipe at the devil pony. Instinctively, Vergil swung his sheathed blade in an attempt to parry the attack. For the briefest of moments, Vergil suddenly felt like a fool, for if the blade seemingly phased right through the creature, what could the scabbard possibly do?

Then, the sheath clacked against the claw of the monster, successfully driving the attack away. Time stood still for a moment, and Vergil swiftly realized he was still properly armed. Moving quickly with the opportunity set, he dashed to its side and swung downward across the creature's head. A loud "THWACK" could be heard reverberating around the walls of the alley. Pulling back for a moment, he noticed he did significant damage to its head, having been slightly caved in at this point, leaking black ichor. The creature attempted to turn for another swipe along with a harrowing bellow, but Vergil moved faster and sliced upward with his sheathed blade, smacking the monster's entire body away into a wall. It collided against the surface with a sickening crunch, following the chained lump making a similar, if more metallic, sound, Wasting no more time, Vergil rushed forward, raised Yamato above his head, and stabbed downward upon its already damaged skull, piercing it with the blunt foot of the scabbard. The thing twitched violently for a moment, before it suddenly stopped moving in an unnerving fashion.

The static from the radio, which at the time had been very prevalent during the encounter, slowly subsided as the black ichor that seemed to be the creature's blood seeped from the wounds and began to pool around the thing. Vergil took a step back, and realized something. This was not a demon. Blood and viscera aside, demons tend to die cleanly, normally not leaving an entire body behind once deceased, which would either rapidly break down into the components that was used to summon it or burst into flames and dissolve the creature's body that way. Never the less, whatever this creature was, it was dead.

Static picked up again, but something was poking through the white noise this time. "V---il...--e-- --- y--..." The Son of Sparda turned toward and approached the pocket radio, picking it up from its resting ground, and as soon as he did, the static ceased. Looking it over, he fiddled with the volume and tuner. It was unresponsive at the moment, but he had a gut feeling that due to whatever was around here, he felt it may come in handy. Pocketing the device, Vergil then began to make his way out of the alleyway, only to feel a slight twinge in his leg. Curiously, it was the leg that was cut during the encounter. Upon closer inspection, the small wound hadn't healed yet.

"What trickery is this?" he muttered in disgust.

Demons, including half-breeds such as himself, tended to be gifted with physical abilities that far outpace most mortal beings, one such feat including high regenerative capabilities. Wounds closing nigh instantly as soon they were opened. It was one of the few things that made survival against stronger monsters that much more plausible. The cut he sustained, however, posed a new, ominous idea to him that he dare not say out loud: Am I powerless here?

In an attempt to prove it wrong, Vergil focused upon the demonic power within himself, and begun to call it forth to take his true form. Try as he might, nothing came of it. "Why isn't this working?" he slowly uttered, seething at every word. Something was severely wrong with this town, and each new revelation made it so much worse that it initially seemed. There was no more time for intrusive thoughts. No more room to sooth his pride. The situation had changed, and he could no longer afford actions of hubris. He needed to find her before it got any more out of hand.

Alone in the Town

Exiting the alley back to Strong Avenue, Vergil checked the map again. Taking out the red pen from his pocket, he scribbled out the question mark that indicated the scene he was just at. For a moment, he questioned why a map all the way at the edge of town in an abandoned carriage had a hint that pointed him towards such a ghastly scene, and wondered in addition to what exactly was so important that it had to be noted. Ire built up more and more as these strange happenings kept presenting further, tiresome questions.

Before he could bemoan his situation, the radio he had stuffed into his pocket began to buzz and squeal once again, at first feint, but then grew louder. He ripped the offending device from where he stored it and examined it closely, before another sound pierced through the noise and fog. Turning his attention to the intruding sound, Vergil laid eyes upon yet another creature dragging its loathsome body across the ground. The bridge of his nose and his brow furrowed as he sneered at the unsightly thing. Opting to not interact with the monster, noting how sluggish it moved anyway, the Son of Sparda exited the alley's mouth and moved back down Strong Ave towards St. Germane Street.

Turning the corner upon reaching St. Germane, he proceeded southward, hoping to find further clues, or perhaps a still living soul in this town. As he wandered however, he noticed the static from the radio that he still held onto began to die down until it all but ceased. He stopped for a moment, scrutinizing the device and pondering the situation, before he decided to run a small test.

Turning back, he returned to Strong Ave, already noting the white noise starting up from the radio as it did before. Once again, he saw the monster in the fog crawl agonizingly slow across the road, and the closer he approached it, the louder the noise from the radio was. He stopped, realizing the creature's proximity was very closely tied to the radio. As to the reason why, he didn't know, but the town proved already to be as strange as "Red" had warned, so this may yet be one of the town's own conditions. Never the less, a warning against these creatures would only serve as a boon.

With his curiosity sated, he backtracked to St. Germane and re-proceeded to move southbound. As he progressed onward, he noticed the radio's static rising and falling. Taking quick glances while he moved, he noticed another few of those creatures. One moving slowly up the street, the other scratching underneath a parked carriage. Vergil's thoughts began to wander as his pace slowed, now seeing these things in a new light. The monster he fought in the alley had warped his impression of them. As dangerous as they could be, especially since the one he fought managed to leave a proper wound, they were relatively benign.

"Unworthy animals," he seethed, now opting to press forth without paying them any further mind.

Onward he pressed, down the current street, veering slightly off to the side when the noticeable sounds of the radio alerted him to the nuisances lurking just behind the mists. It was odd, really. Despite how ear splitting the radio was, only he seemed to notice its relatively loud volume in the silent streets. The creatures simply weren't bothered by its presence in the slightest, and thus never seemed to focus their attention upon him as long as he kept his relative distance. Faceless as they may be, it seemed to the devil-pony that they operated on sight rather than sound. The more he thought about it, the more he began to appreciate such a device.

As he crossed an intersection on Oliver Avenue, Vergil noticed something rather alarming in the distance to the south. It was faint due to the mist, but the closer he drew, the more he saw. Or, more accurately, the less he saw. The roadway he was taking had abruptly ended, leading to a jagged, sheer cliff that dropped into a misty oblivion. Worse was that this was not a natural phenomenon, as the street, sidewalk, signs, foliage, and even buildings had sustained major damage, as if the ground itself were ripped away from that end haphazardly. He'd call it an earthquake, but there would be MUCH more damage to the surrounding buildings if that was the case.

It was then that he spotted another carriage, this time tipped over, with the top having been ripped away and missing. Curiosity pulled him closer to inspect, and he found scattered papers, looking like a report. and a blood soaked body splattered against the seat. Vergil gathered the notes he could, and decided to skim through them, and realized they were reports. Specifically, reports about the town:

Day 1,

I was given the case to investigate a variety of strange disappearances that have been happening in a remote town called Quiet Valley. As of writing these observational documents, the investigation had just begun. I will proceed in earnest, and note any significant changes.

Day 2,

I had interviewed everyone I could find in town about the disappearances. Nopony seems to know of their whereabouts, citing absences days before they were declared missing, but no rumors or sightings beyond said announcements. What is bizarre is that some of the affected parties of the missing ponies are starting to forget, more and more frequently needing me to remind them of why they themselves hired me. Even worse, pictures of the missing began to disappear. Something is terribly wrong.

Day 5,

I woke up alone in my carriage this morning to find the whole town shrouded in mist. No matter where I look, I can't seem to find anypony around. It's as if the whole place became a ghost town overnight. I'm also seeing strange shapes in the fog. I decided to just stay in the carriage for the time being and review my notes.

Day 5-2,

Some of my notes have gone missing. Some of the pictures that were missing have come back. What in Tartarus is going on? My head is starting to hurt, and I think I hear a siren somewhere.

Day 6,

There is DEFINITELY something wrong in this town. To Tartarus with professional decorum. If these reports are to be what's left of me, then know this: I've been seeing things out there. Terrible things. I should have NEVER taken this job. I don't know what I thought I'd gain by doing this. It's not like she'd be found in this blasted town. I'm going to die here, and it's all my fault. To whoever reads this, RUN. Leave town and don't look back. You could be the toughest rock on the cliff, and it wouldn't be enough. What lurks here is not-

The notes ended right there, but tucked between them were a few photos, with only one of them featuring a very clear and recognizable face, and who it was gave Vergil pause. The photo in question was of Fluttershy. He looked back to the body of the individual that likely wrote these particular papers, deducing that the corpse used to be an investigator of some kind, but no one else knew of Fluttershy's disappearance. How did this one get the jump on the investigation long before he received that strange letter from the mare in question? Did her so-called friends somehow forget, just like the others implied in the reports?

Never the less, he decided to claim Fluttershy's photo for himself after allowing the rest of the papers to scatter in the wind. He never brought her photo with him initially, confident he wouldn't need it in what he assumed would be a very short mission, but he felt that with such alarming developments as of late, it would be unwise to continue without. Before he slipped the photo into his pocket, he noticed slight grooves at the back of the picture, and decided to turn it around.

On the backside of Fluttershy's photo was a note that read, "Rumor of missing mare at Joy's. Possible clue?". Feeling the name was familiar, Vergil pulled the map from his pocket and laid it upon the ground, scrutinizing it closely. Sure enough, there was a pub north of here named Joy's. Thinking back, he realized he had been at that location once before, but had decided not to enter. Slipping the photo and map into his pocket, he dusted himself off and proceeded back up the street, keeping an open ear on the radio static and careful eye on the limited view of his surroundings.

Once again, all threats were avoided effectively with this strategy as he very swiftly found himself back in front of the pub. Stepping up to the door, Vergil placed his hoof upon the handle and opened the door. As he did, he lightly chastised himself for not investigating prior when he first had the chance, reasoning he might have saved some time. That was IF the tip he found actually does point him in Fluttershy's direction.

Entering the pub, he noticed how dark it was inside, bathed in the incredibly dim light that leaked through the newspaper plastered against the windows. It was honestly quite an eerie contrast, but aesthetics were trivial compared to his mission. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he noticed how dilapidated the pub was, with broken seats and barren, damaged walls. Even the bar counter had nothing but a few cups, unknown debris, and bits of broken glass. Ire began to rise within Vergil as he considered the so-called clue on the back of Fluttershy's photo to be a lie, but something caught the attention of his peripheral vision.

It was a teddy bear, a little scuffed, but in decidedly better condition than the counter it was sitting upon. So much so, it looked like as if it were placed there recently. It was quite hard not to notice it with its relatively striking white fur and its obvious missing eye. Even more curious was the piece of paper folded and placed between the sitting bears legs. Taking the scrap, he unfolded it and scanned its contents. It was a piece of the town map, with the clocktower circled with the note scribbled next to it saying "saw somepony there that looked like that mare".

"Clocktower," he pondered to himself before he pulled the map from his pocket again. Looking it over, he found its location rather quickly and circled it himself. He noted that all he'd need to do to get there was to head west until he reached Miller Street, then go south for a short distance. It was practically a hop, skip, and jump away.

Smirking to himself, he discarded the scrap and turned to leave, only to see something he didn't notice before. Written in a reddish brown upon the newspaper plastered on the window were the words "A piece of the world is missing". Vergil raised an eyebrow, pondering only for a moment over what it could mean, before he dismissed it as nonsensical graffiti.

Exiting the pub, he turned to the west, and made his way through the street at a relatively quick pace, ignoring the constant presence of the crawling, dragging creatures that continued to inhabit the area against his wishes. Their blood trails and incessant grinding of what they pulled behind them disgusted and irritated him, especially as the dull throb on his slowly healing leg wound continued to remind Vergil of recent events. He made a mental note, deciding that once Fluttershy had been found safe and sound, he would return to butcher these pests and blow off some much needed steam. He would do so now, but fighting them in the way he had prior was inelegant, inefficient, and irresponsible. He had a job to do, and wasting his time, effort, and personal well being just to kill those things as powered down as he was would be beyond foolish. He should only ever stomach such encounters in emergencies.

It didn't take him long to reach Miller Street, to which he very quickly began to move south. However, while he did start to see what looked like a lengthy clock tower rise to the sky in the mists, just barely visible, he also noticed that the road ended on a sheer cliff once again; cutting off easy access to such a close location. He growled and grumbled for a moment, before he pulled his map out once more, drawing a red X at his current spot, before spying a slightly longer alternate route: continue west through Strong Avenue and head south on Valentine Street. It was slightly more roundabout, but was still within acceptable reach.

And so, Vergil did just that. Pulling out of Miller Street, he made his way a bit further up Strong Avenue once more. His new direction, however, was very swiftly cut short again as he encountered yet another massive break in the roadway. Both not wanting to anger himself further, but wanting to confirm where he was, he looked around the area, and noticed a slightly bent, but still legible signpost that showed this was, indeed, the corner of Strong Avenue and Valentine Street. Vergil snarled for a moment, before he pulled the map out again and crossed out that path. Going over it once more, he spied a much longer round about path that he could take to get to the clocktower, but it would require him to take a detour back up Miller Street.

Doubling back, he cantered back through Strong Avenue until he reached Miller once more, before he began to head north. It really didn't take him long to find himself to once again be blocked off at the pass with a sheer drop before him, but at the very least to the east the road still seemed to be intact. Not wishing to waste more time pondering the quickest method, Vergil opted to move eastward and try to see if he could head north on Saint Germane Street, only to find the roadway there had also collapsed or otherwise undergone a mysteriously upheaval. This, however, still did not completely hinder him, as he very quickly noticed the sound of tree leaves and rushing water in the distance. Directly to his east was a fenced off area, however he opted to move southward, following the fence until he reached the entrance to "Riverside Park".

Before him was a relatively normal park, much of it being open grass with sporadic trees, save for a relatively dense brush of shrubs nearby the visible rushing river. It had decidedly much more life to it than the town, but was still just as eerily quiet, save for the creatures. The silence was disturbed, however, with the soft sobs of a child echoing from the fog. He tapped his blade's pommel gently with his hoof and swiveled his ears to get a read on the source of the noise.

"Show yourself," he commanded, still resting his hoof upon the blade. The sob quickly shifted to a slight 'eep', as a form crawled out of the bush, making it rustle, and emerged from the obscuring fog. Before Vergil was a very young colt. Tears stained his cheeks as dirt and leaves dirtied his silvery coat and dusty rosy pink mane. A silver arrow with butterfly wings was adorned upon his flank. Wiping away a tear, the colt fidgeted before the Son of Sparda.

"I-I'm very sorry m-mister," the young boy managed to stutter out, "I d-didn't mean to h-hide... I was just..."

Vergil gave a sigh as his his hoof retracted from his blade and he shook his head. "You shouldn't be out here, boy."

"I know," he replied, "but I lost my teddy yesterday. i-I came out here to find it."

In this fog? Vergil wondered, before shaking his head, "It's dangerous. Return home."

"I-I can't... n-not without..." the colt sobbed.

Vergil gave another sigh of annoyance as he spoke once again. "What does it look like?"

"P-pardon?"

"Your... teddy. What does it look like?"

"O-oh... its got white fur, like a bear in the frozen north. And its missing an eye. My mum gave it to me."

Vergil inwardly scoffed at the description, immediately recognizing it. "Very well. You stay put and stay hidden. I shall bring it back." Vergil had a job to do, but something deep inside him told him he would greatly regret allowing this kid to roam the streets in the fog. The monsters out there were trivial for him, even while weakened, but he knew that the child had no chance.

Exiting the park, Vergil checked the map once again, and realized the pub was just a straight shot south from where he was. Wasting no more time, Vergil briskly made his way back to Joy's Pub, entered it, and retrieved the bear from its resting place. Knowing he'd have a tough time carrying it with him normally, he found a bit of string nearby, and tied it to the scabbard of Yamato, making sure it was nicely secure to it. The whole thing looked ridiculous, but it was only temporary, he told himself. Upon leaving the pub. he noticed the radio start to buzz much louder this time around, especially considering it wasn't so active while he came to the building in the first place. The source of the distress was the increase in creatures that were now in close proximity to the pub.

What in hell? Vergil thought, There were NOT that many before now. One of the closer creatures, soon noticing Vergil was within its range, tensed back and gave a mighty leap towards the devil pony. Vergil dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding its lunging attack. The monster, missing its target, instead crashed through the door Vergil just came through. The sound was enough to get the attention of the rest of them, causing them to start clawing their way towards their would-be prey. Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance, and moved away from the slowly gathering crowd, circling around them, and heading northwards towards the park. He could hear the horrible clawing and scraping behind him get fainter and fainter, but never actually going away. They're more aggressive, he considered, and persistent. I should hurry.

Soon enough, he reached the park, and the moment he stepped in and looked about, he began calling for the colt. "Boy!" he shouted, "Reveal yourself! I found your blasted toy!" Silence remained as he kept his ears focused and his eyes scrutinizing the area. Where is that brat? he fumed inwardly. He then noticed small hoofprints in the ground, roughly the size of the little colt's. He grimaced in frustration.

However, he didn't have time to stew in his anger, as the sounds of scratching claws and scraping metal slowly began to get louder out in the streets behind him. They're following me? Those monsters didn't exhibit this behavior before, so why now? He shook his head and decided to do what he originally thought of doing when he came to the park the first time. Follow the river upstream at the west side, and head for the water treatment plant. Gazing towards the hoofprints once more, he soon realized they were leading towards the same destination. If he ever found the little colt again, he was going to read him one hell of a riot act for his foolishness.

Vergil briskly galloped along the path through the trees and bush alongside the river, and it didn't take him long to reach a rather imposing building. He was aware that technology and building types in Equestria were very much a mixed bag of time periods and styles, but this one looked closer to being industrial in nature. Spartan and practical, with little in aesthetic. Very much an unequestrian looking building, which strangely unnerved him. However, what beat out that offbeat feeling was seeing an incredibly strange... thing, hung above the back exit of the building. It looked like a crucified pony, forelegs outstretched and nailed to the wall, once again with no face, but its bottom half was an upside down top half, with minor, but significant differences. For starters, the bottom torso was far more emaciated, with the rib-cage clearly visible and pushing at the skin. The second was, at the end of the hooves, poked out long curved blades. It made the upside down hanging half look more like some sort of twisted parody of a praying mantis than a mockery of a pony.

Vergil drew his attention behind it, and noticed that the door it hung above was wide open. He looked down upon the ground, and noticed the hoofprints once more leading towards the door. Did that stupid boy really run in there? He had no more time to ponder, as he started to notice the sounds of claws and scraping metal grow in volume. He looked back at the thing, noticing it seemed dormant. Vergil had no other choice, so cautiously he approached the creature, hoping to duck underneath and bypass it entirely. However, the moment he got close, the creature abruptly moved with a muffled scream, swiping its exceptionally dangerous bladed hooves at the devil pony. Vergil barely had time to react, as he swung his sheathed Yamato toward the attack to parry, only to remember that the toy was attached. Before he knew it, the creature gripped the teddy bear strongly and began to pull, threatening to take the Yamato too. Vergil wound his other hoof around the scabbard and pulled back with all of his might, engaging in a vicious tug of war, before the string that attached the toy to his blade snapped, and Vergil tumbled backwards for a moment.

Rising back to his hooves, he pressed his hoof against the handle of the blade, ready to fight, only to notice the creature hugging the teddy close to it. For a moment, there was soft, horrible gurgling noises coming from the monster. However, the gurgling stopped, and the bottom half of the creature melted away into viscera and bone, pulling off of the crucified top half, which remained unchanged. Vergil stood there for a moment, trying to put the pieces together, before realizing that the teddy had melted along with the creature, and thus was no longer salvageable. He'd curse over it, but honestly, he was just glad to be rid of such an embarrassing item. If he found the boy, he'd have to think up a lie about what had happened to his bear.

Soon enough, the pile of viscera disappeared, leaving behind dry bones and brittle blades, and a door wide open for him to step through. Vergil seized his opportunity, rushed forward, passed the crucified pony, and entered the building, shutting the door behind him.

A Stray Child

The door clacked shut, followed by the sound of a soft click. Vergil, noticing the extra noise, turned to the door behind him and gripped the handle. It was locked. Was that why the door was wide open? Before he could ponder the reasons beyond the initial question, he noticed a note at eye level, taped to the door.

Warning
Door is broken. Do not shut.

Vergil clicked his tongue. Of all the rotten luck in the world, it had to be the kind that locks himself inside of an industrial complex. Despite his gripes, the thoughts were laid to rest the moment he realized something crucial. He HEARD the click of the door. If he was not mistaken, this building was a water treatment plant. At least, that's what the map told him when he wasted his time crossing out dead ends while heading to the clock tower. If his location was correct, he should be hearing the sound of machines working on the water it was pumping in and out of the facility.

Instead, it was dead silent.

Vergil turned back around, only noticing how dark it was inside, save for a dim red light that hovered over a shelf, which held a few objects he couldn't immediately discern. Slowly, Vergil moved forward, feeling the metallic clack of the industrial grating below his hooves, soon finding that metal grating stairs were leading a short a distance down to a concrete floor. Approaching the shelf, he finally noticed what actually sat there. Dusty emergency equipment haphazardly lined the dimly lit platform, with a sign just below the little red light. "Notice: For use during a power outage only", it read. Among the items available was a small flashlight attached to a lanyard.

Picking up the flashlight, he tested the button, expecting something that collected this much dust to be unusable, or at least assumed the strange energies of the fog-filled town perhaps would keep it from working. He was mildly surprised that it did indeed turn on with no dimming present. With proper light at his disposal, he investigated the room he was in. Surely, there had to be some sort of fire escape map somewhere around that he could use. It would certainly be better than fumbling around in the dark with only the limited view of the flashlight to guide his path. Sure enough, after searching what seemed to be the boot/storage room, he located the map he was looking for, which sat opposite of the emergency shelf. Ripping it from its pins, he scanned the layout briefly, before folding the map and placing it into his pocket, right with the map of the town.

Considering the contents he saw, his hunch about where he was in the building was correct, with a corridor leading away from the boot/storage room. On either side of the hallway, two large rooms presented themselves: one, a room full of water filtration devices and machines lined up for their specific jobs and purposes, and the other labeled "control room". Heading further down all the way to the other end would present the front entrance of the building, and a hard right would lead down another hallway, this time with doors to a few offices that keep the building's maintenance and logistics organized. At least, that's what he assumed. The map itself just labeled said rooms as "Office 1, Office 2, Office 3", with a set of washrooms and two changing rooms on the farthest spot.

However, none of that really mattered. Vergil simply needed the exit, so he could continue on his haphazard route to the clock tower. In that sense, he proceeded out of storage and entered the first hallway, with nothing but the sound of his hooves clacking against the hard concrete keeping him company. The echos of his hooffalls became far more eerie than he had anticipated, considering the abject silence of the machinery that should have been deafening in a place like this. Either, this town was truly a ghost town, or there was something far more sinister going on, and considering his personal history and current (forced) profession, he couldn't rule out the latter. Not after the monster attacks he endured until now.

"Monsters," he muttered with disgust as he slowly cantered down the dark hallway, keeping his guard up. Honestly, that's all he could really call them. They certainly weren't demons. Not demons in the same sense of what he was used to. There was a certain level of intelligence that creatures of the Underworld (or in the case of Equestria, Tartarus) possessed, even with some of the more animalistic and feral breeds. But the things in this town? Intelligence wasn't something he could feel coming from them. Very "non-demonic", or even sapient, he reasoned. There was something fundamentally... off. He couldn't quite pin down what exactly was bothering him so much about them, but his intuition was telling him they were far more dangerous than he was making them out to be, despite his bravado and distant view of them.

As he continued to ponder over those creatures, he soon reached his destination: a set of double doors that lead outside. The supposed front entrance to the building, and his exit. Placing his hoof against the surface, he gave a nudge, only for it to firmly deny his attempt at leaving. The sound of chains clattered as the door shook from his efforts, causing him to back off and take a proper look at the doors he was pushing against. Lo and behold, the door was tied shut by a set of chains bolted and criss-crossed along the surface. Heavy locks were placed where loose chain links meet, obviously there to keep everything more secured than necessary. It was quite the intimidation factor for any normal individual.

How droll, he thought sarcastically. Pulling his blade from its scabbard, he took aim at the chains and swung with all his might. The disappointing sound of clattering links and the sudden stop of his blade made the half-demon wince in shame. He wasn't going to be able to cut his way out of this one.

First, that monster. Now this, he bitterly lamented. Sheathing his blade, he gave a defeated sigh, realizing he's likely going to have to try to get out of this facility the hard way. This also meant the child he came across is likely locked in here, somewhere in the dark. Locating the young boy to usher him out to safety would be a priority. If something were to happen to him...

The sound of fluttering paper caught his attention, as well as the touch of it sweeping at his hooves. Looking down, he noticed a folded up, slightly dirty note that obviously wasn't there before. Picking it up, he unfolded the paper, and read the contents inside.

despair is like a sea
but the source of life it be
chase shadows for your hints
don't dawdle in your stints
bring power to gears true
and let engines roar to
purify water for keys to find
and the exit shall unbind

His face scrunched in confusion and annoyance. "A riddle?" he blurted with a sneer. It was all but certain now. Something was DEFINITELY wrong with the town itself. His eyes trailed back to the chained doors, looking upon the locks. He gazed back to the note, figuring he's going to need to go on a little scavenger hunt if he wants out. Slipping the note into another of his pockets, he fixed his jacket, and decided it would be best to search the offices first. It was then that the sound of light ringing could be heard, along with the underlying crackling of white noise. It was an altogether different sound from what the monsters outside produced, but it still put him on high alert. He started by whirling around to look down the hallway behind him, seeing nothing but the empty corridor. He then turned his attention left, which was previously to the right when he was still facing the doors, and caught something darting away from view with a panicked squeak, disappearing into the shadows and away from the light he cast.

Vergil then ripped the radio out of his pocket, checking to make sure he was hearing things correctly. Sure enough, the sound slowly grew quieter, up until it altogether became silent. The radio was still on.

If the device in his hooves was to be believed, whatever it was, it was most definitely gone. Or, at least, far enough away from the radio to be detected. He placed it back inside of his pocket, and pushed his vigilance, keeping his guard up on the off chance something attempts an ambush. In a small, tight space with little room to maneuver, I cannot afford any major fights. Not while I'm still... woefully debilitated. The light pain in his slightly injured leg kept reminding him.

Cautiously, he proceeded down the new hall towards the offices. As he came upon the first room, he noticed the light ringing sound once again, although it was a fair bit distant. He glanced further down the hall, only to notice nothing more than his own light and the fading darkness at the edge of the flashlight's 'cone'. Whatever was making the radio produce that ringing sound was not in the hallway. Regardless, he opted to test the first door, only to be met with firm resistance. It was jammed.

He shook his head, and proceeded to Office 2, which caused the ringing to slowly grow in volume the closer he approached the door. With great caution and guarded hesitation, he slowly gripped the door with one hoof while pressing the pommel of Yamato with the other, and opened it suddenly.

There was a surprised squeak as something darted past Vergil before he could properly react, and disappear towards the changing rooms. The light ringing grew quiet once again, but didn't quite disappear like before, likely because he was still close enough for the radio to pick up its presence. He gazed towards the rooms in question, only deciding whatever it was that eluded him was none of his concern at the moment. Instead, he turned his attention to the opened office, and decided to investigate first, shutting the door behind him as he entered Office 2.

Once inside, he used his hoof to manipulate the flashlight hanging off of the lanyard around his neck, and scanned the room slowly. While it was slightly messy, it most certainly was an office space with all the classic fixings; desk, typewriter, bookshelf, filing cabinet, pointless generic artwork hanging on the wall. He was quite surprised to find very little out of the ordinary. The only thing warranting his attention was a note that was pinned to the desk. It was a memo, dirty and ratty, with parts scratched out, seemingly addressed to the worker of this office.

To Mr. ------------

The -------- -re on the fritz again. I need -- ETA on when the repair ----- will show up. I can't keep ----- the wrench on the --------, and I can't keep bugging Spark for the wrench every time this happens. I swear, the -------- here are useless when it comes to fix--- --------. You need to hire more capable ponies that can actually -

The memo became illegible near the end. Below the note, however, was a document that detailed locker assignments for what seemed to be the employees of the facility. A stroke of luck at the very least. until Vergil actually looked over said document. Assigned lockers did not have full names displayed on the page. Only initials, and five of them had the letter "S", to which all affected initials were listed in the stallion changing room.

Blasted pony names, Vergil thought bitterly as he retrieved the locker assignment document and circled the five lockers that could potentially be "Spark's". Before he exited the office, he gave the room one last look over, trying to find anything else that could be of use. With nothing present that piqued his interest, the half-devil approached the door and entered the hall once again.

There, beyond the door of Office 2, the light sound of ringing and distant white noise flared up again, reminding the Sparda-kin that he wasn't alone in the facility and he has yet to identify whatever was trying to flee him. Or make me follow, he considered. It wasn't a complete stretch of a notion, especially considering the note with the riddle.

Despite the obvious path to take, Vergil opted to finish checking the rooms immediate to him first before he would go gallivanting into the changing room. Though, upon checking Office 3, he noticed that, while tidier than Office 2, the room had nothing immediately useful to him. Save for what seemed to be a medical kit, sitting conspicuously on the filing cabinet. Vergil raised an eyebrow at the idea of a random small pack of medical supplies, even wondering the odds of anything inside still being usable. Slowly and with an air of curiosity, he approached the package, grabbed it from its seating place, and brought it closer for inspection.

The first thing to note was that it had very little dust on it, as if it were put there rather recently, which was odd in of itself, especially in comparison to what he saw in the town so far. The second is that, once opened, all of the supplies inside seemed fresh, with rubbing and disinfecting alcohol vials being labeled to expire years from now.

The twinge in his leg made his eye twitch ever so slightly, causing his gaze to drift towards the wound for a moment before looking back to the opened kit. With an irritated sigh, he sat down on one of the chairs, retrieved the disinfectant vial, some gauze, and a few clips to keep the wrapping in place. He quickly dressed the wound, and pocketed the medical fabric, casting away the rest of the open package with little care. I don't believe I'll have use for the rest of the kit, whatever little is there, but the remaining gauze might be useful to change the wound later, he reasoned. As loathsome as the act was, there was something nostalgic about tending to an injury, though he had never needed to do so while he was on his own before now.

On my own...

Vergil shook his head with a growl, dispersing the surfacing memory. Rising back up to his hooves, he decided it was time to follow the clue. He exited Office 3 and made a beeline towards the changing room, causing the radio to quickly pick up in sound and pitch. Upon opening the door and stepping inside, there was a loud squeak and something skittering further back in the room. Vergil paused, standing under the arch of the doorway, gazing about the room and using the flashlight to try to get a better look around. He noticed a small... "something", just out of reach of the light's cone, trying to stay out of the illuminated area, moving only when the light got too close.

Vergil watched this behavior carefully for a moment, slowly moving the flashlight back and forth, observing the shadowed out presence staying out of the light to the best of its ability. It was then that the devil pony, ever so gingerly, shut off the light. There was a light squeak, but the sound of fleeing did not follow like the last few encounters. Slowly and gingerly, Vergil walked forward, carefully letting his eyes adjust to the stark darkness, as the radio grew louder and louder. It was then that he was able to finally see the little dark shape that had eluded him while the noise reached fever-pitch. The small entity was indeed a dark mass in the vague shape of a small colt, or perhaps a foal, with deep black pits where eyes should be. It reminded him of the boy. It was a creature similar to the type of shadow demons he had seen once upon his life, though this one seemed entirely benign.

"Damn," he uttered as he backed away from the shadow. Before he turned on the light, he began to hear something.

Where's mom?...

Vergil froze, recognizing the voice, as he turned back around to the vague child shaped being. It couldn't be. His next move was automatic, as his hoof turned the flashlight on once more, directly at the little thing before him. The effect was instant, as the shadow, now entirely visible in the light, gave a loud screech, before suddenly bolting away, disappearing just before it was able to leave the room. The radio's noise followed suit, suddenly stopping mere seconds later. Vergil stared at the path the little thing took for a moment, wondering more about what had just transpired, until his brow furrowed in irritation. As his gaze returned to where the shadow was, there was a glitter in the light before him. Approaching it, he noticed it was a small set of keys, reflecting the flashlight's own shine. Vergil collected the keys from the ground, and began to look them over, noticing strips of tape along the heads, written initials in ink.

They weren't the keys he was ultimately looking for, but he surmised they were necessary never-the-less. He was only glad he didn't waste his time searching for and testing the lockers beforehand. He decided to move towards the row furthest from the entrance, on the off chance that what he's looking for was further back.

With the locker assignment document and locker keys at the ready, Vergil moved up and down the rows, checking the initials and numbers before trying the corresponding key. The first attempt was a dud. A normal, simple locker with a few personal items: work clothes, goggles, hard hat, and a lunch box. The second door he tried was entirely jammed. Worse, the key ended up getting stuck, forcing Vergil to remove the key from the ring with a grumble. He then came to the third locker, which had absolutely nothing in it.

Leaving the farthest row, Vergil made his way towards the set of lockers closer to the changing room entrance, heading for the fourth locker he needed to try, until he heard something metallic slam, followed by a whining creak. His eyes momentarily shifted towards the direction of the offending sound, which was in the far row, likely one of the middle lockers, before turning back to his current objective. Only a fool would investigate that. Vergil then considered his brother, and gave a smug smirk. With no more distractions, Vergil opened the locker he was at and found a sweater-vest with a piece of paper sticking out of the chest pocket. He sneered for a moment before closing the door, and moving to the final locker on the list.

Upon opening it however, he found yet another dead end in his scavenger hunt, once again with nothing of note or use inside. He slammed the locker door shut, slightly denting the metal, growling in frustration. As his irritation subsided, he realized there were only two other options available to him, both he had just overlooked.

Moving back to the locker with the sweater-vest, he reached inside and took the paper, deciding to read it.

They're there on the other side. They can see us while we see ourselves. The grinding is getting worse. Dear Celestia, it's like I'm drowning. You should know it too. Sweet, sweet agony.

Vergil's eyebrow perked up from the utter nonsense this scrap of paper was reporting. With a disgusted sneer, he crumpled the paper and tossed it aside. With no other options left, he retraced his steps back to the other row of lockers, only to be met by quite the gruesome site; the locker door, the one that was previously jammed, now ajar, and the area immediately in front of it, from floors and the bench before the still squeaking metal door to the back of the first row lockers, was entirely painted in red. Vergil could smell the distinct odor of iron, understanding what the crimson stain really was. On the bench, however, ever so gently soaking in the dripping mess, was a wrench. Cautiously, Vergil approached the tool, his hooves squelching from the stain, and took it up. He wasn't entirely sure of how it could be handy, but he remembered that the memo mentioned something was in need of repair.

He then exited the changing room and headed for the washroom, taking the time to clean his hooves off, as well as the wrench he took. For a building with little power, it's a miracle plumbing still works, he mused. After he was satisfied and his hooves were clean and dry, he took the facility map out of his coat and looked it over once more. He was very swiftly reminded that, despite its importance, this facility wasn't exactly a large one, seemingly only built for the sake of its purpose, and little else. Thus, realistically, he only had two options before him; the machine room and the control room. Not knowing what his task will be, he opted to follow the corridor path until he reached the door that lead to the two rooms. Picking the left door, he entered the control room, which had a console with a variety of gauges and buttons, most likely to help regulate and monitor the filtration systems. There was also a set of screens above it, likely for security and monitoring cameras.

It was a bit odd seeing such devices here in this room, especially since it was rare to encounter modern technology in the land of Equestria, however that didn't necessarily mean this world didn't have such things. He recalled the disk jocky pony that lived with the violinist, as well as the arcade in Ponyville where some of the children like to visit. Film reels existed, and so did photography cameras, in a few different stages of sophistication no less. Radios were the popular form of home media entertainment, but he wouldn't be surprised if one day one of these Equines would come up with the concept of television. Seeing this here and now made that likelihood a certainty.

However, it ultimately didn't matter to him. The machine itself was more than enough to drive his curiosity on the sole idea of its involvement in his little quest. Checking the console up and down, he eventually came to a panel with bolts screwed in tight. Using the wrench, he unscrewed the bolts and removed the panel, revealing what seemed to be five uniformed holes with four objects. There was also a note taped inside. Taking the note, Vergil scanned its contents, which were surprisingly brief.

Red is hollow

Another scrap with nonsense, which Vergil tossed to the side, only to stare at the plugs and holes. He remained there for a moment, trying to figure how this would work, only to try and blindly start plugging each of the presented items into each of the holes. Eventually, after some trial and error, he hit the correct combination with a single plug left open in the center. The machine around him whirred to life, generating a dull, industrial buzz of technological activity. Vergil, leaving the open panel, made his way towards the front of the console, and observed it. The screens above showed not only the water treatment room, but also the current room he was in, the storage/boot room, and the front entrance. Other monitors were off. As he gazed at the buttons with no idea which one was used for what specific purpose, an alarm bell sounded for a few seconds, as the printer on the far end began spitting out some papers, along with a small key, strangely enough. Vergil cantered over to the readouts, and scanned the contents. Most of it was technical jargon he couldn't quite piece together, but it seemed to be an error report. What he could understand was that power wasn't reaching the filtration machines in the other room, and a manual investigation was necessary.

Picking the key up off the floor, he realized whatever was going on here, whatever force was influencing this place, was guiding him on this path. The thought of such control over him sickened him, but he had very little choice but to play along. He wouldn't have the chance to leave if he actively and openly defied whatever was pulling the strings.

Exiting the control room, he stepped over to the opposite door and tested the handle. Locked. Pulling the small key from his pocket, he used it on the door with expected success, and opened it, which swung inward to the room. Before him was a very short flight of industrial metal stairs that lead to quite the large and open area. His hooves clacked on the metal grating as he descended, before he landed upon the standard cement flooring that was present through the building. Before him was a set of rather sophisticated looking piece of machinery, each of which were very distinct in design and function, and each of them evidently a link in the process of cleaning the town's water supply. At least, that's what he was assuming, based on the map's name of the facility.

Looking them over, they didn't seem to be in disrepair and, at first glance, they all looked relatively well connected. Due to the control room now being online, even some lights had turned on to illuminate the machine room to a degree. However, the control room console clearly stated power wasn't reaching these machines, so on he searched. After looking over each device carefully, he finally found the problem. The first filtering system, a giant vat of a device that was labeled the "macro-filter", was missing a connection. A connection that was simply laying upon the concrete floor, as if it were haphazardly pulled and left behind. Picking the plug up, he pulled it over to the open port and reconnected it, bringing the machine suddenly back to life.

As the industrial noise slowly began to pick up and rushing water could be heard muffled through the piping, Vergil backed away, wondering what was supposed to happen next. How is this supposed to get me out of this wretched place?

Piercing through the cacophonous sounds of waking machinery, the only door to and from this room suddenly slammed shut, earning Vergil's immediate attention. He gazed at the door for a moment, only to hear something far worse a moment later. Flooding water.

He turned around and saw the macro-filter, the machine he just turned back on, begin to flood over the top of the vat's lip, spilling onto the floor at an alarming rate. Vergil raced up the metallic stairs as quick as he could and gripped the door, trying to pull it open with all his might. The door wouldn't budge. He checked the lock, only to find the lock wasn't even being used right now. He slammed his weight against the door over and over, repeatedly trying to force it open, utilizing the natural strength of the Equestiran body he was cursed with, to no avail. As he continued to do so, the sound of rushing water grew stronger and stronger as, for the first time in a long time, panic began to set in. He was trapped, without his powers, and very, VERY mortal. Fighting against monsters was one thing, but this was something he had no hope to take control against.

Before the water could reach the final step Vergil was on, suddenly the door bashed inward, colliding with the devil pony's body with violent torque, launching him away from the passage and into the flooding water. Just before he hit the water, dazed eyes managed to get a glimpse of what assailed him. A dark, blood red... thing, with glowing crimson eyes and twice his height stood in the frame, watching him fall.

Colliding with the water's surface took an immediate effect. Vergil's world at the time, filled with industrial noise and rushing water, suddenly became quiet and muffled, as he began to sink deeper and deeper, physically paralyzed in his daze. His vision became harsh, and the little light that managed to pierce the surface of the water became distant and dim. Further and further he sank as he struggled to hold his breath and recollect his rattled thoughts, only for muffled voices to reach him. Voices not unfamiliar to him.

Vergil, where are you?

Happy Birthday, Vergil!

Please, play nice you two...

There was a sudden sense of vertigo, as his descent grew rapid and the feeling of crashing through the waters surface collided with his back. From the water he fell, like yolk leaving the protective shell of an egg, and slammed against metal grid-iron. The pain of the impact was immediate, knocking the air out of his system as he spat out water he had inadvertently swallowed while drowning. Coughing and curling up against himself, he tried to keep his mind off the relentless agony, trying to deny the very mortal side of him, laying on uncomfortable metal, soaking wet, and in the dark like a scared, little child.

Memory of the Waters

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.