The Interview in the White Room
It can’t end like this!
Martin ran like a bat out of hell towards the crumbling remains of a fallen skyscraper that had crushed an apartment complex in its wake. He glanced back; there was no sign of his pursuer, but Martin wasn’t fooled. The Enforcer was like a silent predator: you never knew where they were until the last thing you heard was the blood gurgling from your throat.
Martin ran faster.
No one had ever escaped the fortress before. Many had tried, but were always caught. Those who were captured, and if lucky enough to be released from the dungeons, paid with fingers, a hand, a limb, or other body part. What happened to those who didn’t come back was the subject of countless rumors; Martin had paid them no mind when planning his own escape.
Like so many others, Martin had enjoyed his work. As a self-proclaimed mercenary—he despised the word ‘thug’—willing to provide muscle and intimidation for whoever was willing to pay, Martin was used to doing morally questionable things, as was everyone else in the fortress. But even he had his limits, and eventually wanted to set out on his own.
Problem was, his boss didn’t like it when people tried to leave. His fiery temper was legendary, and had stopped others from even thinking about escape.
But not Martin.
It had been a simple plan. Go out on a raid and slip away when the others were busy. After that, run as fast, as long, and as hard as he could. Having gone out into the cities and the wastes, and crept through every sewer, alley, and abandoned tunnel many times over, no one knew the land better than him. Well... almost no one.
The boss’ second in command was a nasty fellow who everyone knew as The Enforcer. Though very handsome and almost angelically beautiful, his pleasant smile hid the fact that whenever things went wrong, or someone didn’t perform as they were expected to, he was the one sent out to ‘make things right’, as he liked to put it. That included tracking down those who ran. No one had escaped his grasp, but Martin was determined to be the first.
The day of the raid came. Martin had gone along and, as planned, waited until the others in his group were busy. When they were down in the basement of the building they had infiltrated, Martin headed outside and ran as fast as he could. Even when the building was out of sight, the town but a blip on the horizon, and even his lungs felt like they were on fire, Martin kept running. The further away he got, the safer he was. There had to be a point where his boss decided that it wouldn’t be worth the time and effort to capture him.
At least, that’s what Martin thought. Several hours after he started, Martin heard the unmistakable holler of the Enforcer. It was meant to frighten anyone he was chasing.
Martin shivered, realizing that it was working.
For what seemed like hours, Martin struggled through the ruins of a city. What it had once been called he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he needed was a place to hide, for while Martin was stronger than most, he couldn’t go on forever. He was already exhausted from hours of adrenaline-fueled running, and complete collapse was nigh.
Move it, move it, move it! he shouted to himself. If Martin was caught, he was better off dead. The thought gave him another boost as his pursuer hollered again.
Shit!
Martin reached the alley between the apartment blocks and ran below the crumbling remains of the skyscraper. If he could find a way up, he could hide inside and wait until the Enforcer gave up and fled. It was a slim chance, but it was his only option.
The alley turned, guiding Martin behind one of the apartment complexes.
Oh please let there be a fire escape, oh please let there be a fire escape!
With a burst of speed worth of an olympic sprinter, Martin turned the corner… and everything went black.
***
When Martin woke up in a strange bedroom, the first thing he saw were the clean, sterile walls. They were a world apart from the hotel rooms and mold-encrusted basements he was used to, and the decorative lights in bronze holders were a far call from bare light bulbs, as were the clean sheets beneath him on the bed.
Trying to stay calm, Martin focused on the last thing he remembered. He had been running into an alley in the hopes of finding a fire escape, and then… nothing. He felt no pain from hitting a dumpster, being shot in the back, or slipping on a puddle and cracking his head on the pavement. One moment Martin had been fleeing, and now he was in a room he didn’t recognize, which meant only one thing.
He had been caught.
Someone without Martin’s experience would have panicked, and Martin almost did, but he knew that keeping a level head and acting logically was the best way to counter fear. He wasted no time in patting himself over in search of slices, bruises, or cuts. There were none. The Enforcer had left him intact, even leaving him in his tattered biker jacket, pants, and matching boots, but that was no relief... It only meant his boss wanted him to be unspoiled before the fun began.
With his body intact, Martin surveyed the room. There were no vents, windows, or places he could sneak through to escape, and the crack beneath the door and carpet was too thin to see what was on the other side. But with no other way out, and no way for him to bash through the walls, it was his only choice.
Opening his jacket, Martin patted the inside and sighed in relief as he pulled out his knife. It was small and easily hidden inside a tiny slit he had cut in the fabric, and the Enforcer had somehow missed it. Or perhaps he had left it there just to toy with Martin, as it wouldn’t do much against someone with a gun, spear, or other ranged weapon, but the serrated edge would slice to the bone if Martin could get close enough.
With the knife in one hand and the door handle in the other, Martin took a deep breath, counted to three, and threw the door open, running through with the howl of an enraged animal. But there were no panicked shouts or surprised faces, and no array of torture equipment waiting to be used. He was inside a long hallway, the carpet and walls the same light grey as the room he had leapt from. No guards were in sight, and the shadows cast by the lights weren’t dark enough for anyone to hide in.
Despite meeting up with the boss several times, Martin had never been in his part of the Compound. He had never seen this hall, nor did he have any idea where it was in relation to the barracks, the cells, and other rooms he went through every day. He was alone for now, but that wouldn’t last. Someone was bound to have heard his battle-cry. A squad of goons, maybe even a few he knew, were no doubt on the way.
If he found someplace to hide, perhaps in a ceiling vent, he could drop down on the arriving guards and slice some throats. It’d probably get him a gun or two, and that would help even the odds... But if he failed, he’d be screwed. Better to run, find a window, sneak out, and run once again into the wastes, this time knowing to set an ambush for the Enforcer, one that would end with the knife embedded in his throat.
If all that failed, there was always plan B: Find a lone guard, relieve him of his weapon, and proceed to take out as many of his buddies as possible. Martin wouldn’t grovel before his boss, begging for mercy that wouldn’t come. He’d go down fighting, even if he had to break every bone and dislocate every joint in his fists, but getting out of here would be more preferable.
Running for the double doors, Martin kicked them open, rearing back to slash the closest throat. But once again there were no shouts, nor were guns yanked from their holsters. He was in another large room painted a light shade of white, a chandelier hanging over a small table filled with food. There were two oversized chairs on both sides of the table. One was empty.
The other was not.
A large, white horse sat in the chair. It looked to Martin with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hello, Martin.”
Someone commissioned to chisel a statue of Martin frozen in shock could never have matched the real thing. He stared at the horse, the knife falling from his fingers.
“You... you talked.”
The horse nodded.
“Horses don’t talk.”
“Not where you come from.” The equine gestured to the other chair. “Won’t you take a seat?”
Martin gave a nervous chuckle. This had to be some sort of dream. He must have been banged on the head harder than he cared to admit while escaping, and all this was his mind going crazy. This wasn’t a real horse, for its face was more human than animal, almost like something out of a cartoon. The horn and wings couldn’t be real, and neither could the creature’s mane and tail, which seemed to be made from rainbows that shimmered and billowed like a flag in the wind.
“I’ve seen that look before,” the horse said, “and I assure you, this is not a dream.” She eyed Martin’s arm. “You may pinch yourself to prove it isn’t.”
Martin did, digging his nails in deep. It hurt, but he didn’t wake up. Confused, Martin tried again. It still hurt. Digging his fingernails into his forearm as hard as he could brought an equally painful response.
As ludicrous as it sounded, the horse was right. This was no dream.
This was real.
“It is a shock to experience something like this,” the horse said kindly. “But I promise it will fade. And you need not fear being found. We’re safe here.”
Years of intimidation and creative ‘interrogations’ of his enemies and the enemies of his many employers had given Martin plenty of practice in detecting lies, but he had never beaten an animal. Yet, the horse’s tone, calm gaze, and body posture suggested that she was telling the truth.
Martin shook his his head. This was crazy... Here he was, trapped somewhere in his boss’ hideout, trying to tell if a talking horse was lying to him. He could accept that she was real, for he had seen crazier things, and things more terrifying than even a drugged-up addict could imagine. But while her words may have been soft, he didn’t trust her. She could be working for his boss, trying to catch him off guard with kind words and a pleasant smile.
And yet... unlike everyone he knew, this horse didn’t seem interested in deceiving him. She didn’t have the air of someone pretending to be kind. Perhaps, Martin figured, he could indulge her in whatever game she was playing. If she really wasn’t working for his boss, perhaps he could persuade her to help him escape. If nothing else, it was worth a try.
Retrieving his knife from the floor, Martin took a seat in the empty chair. “Well, first things first: Where am I?”
“It has many names,” the horse said, “but it would be called a safe house in your language.”
“And how did I get here?”
“I brought you.”
“So you kidnapped me?”
“If I hadn’t intervened, your pursuer would have caught you,” the horse explained, “and would have taken you back to your master.”
“He’s my boss, not my master,” Martin said. “And how do I know you’re not working for him?”
The horse’s horn lit up, and a tea kettle levitated before pouring warm liquid into a cup. “All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say, and then decide if I’m telling the truth.”
Trying not to gawk, Martin said, “Okay… then tell me something: why you were following me?”
“Because I want to help you.”
“Help me? Look, lady––horse—whatever you... hey, you got a name?”
“Yes. It’s Celestia. Princess Celestia.”
“Princess?”
Celestia nodded.
I’m talking to a magical horse who’s a princess, Martin thought. “So, you gonna make me an offer I can’t refuse? Persuade me to leave my old boss for you?”
Celestia mused her words carefully. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“And what do you want me for, eh? You need an assassin to take out a few officials so you can take over ponyland without getting your hooves dirty?”
Celestia gave a soft laugh. “I don’t need to overthrow anyone, Martin. I already rule a kingdom.”
“Let me guess...” Martin thought back to every cliché he knew about girls’ cartoon shows. “It’s filled with big, white palaces and has pretty rainbows in the sky while little ponies play in the grass all day long.”
“A simplified version, but mostly true.”
“Seriously?”
Celestia nodded.
Trying to forget the image of fancy-prancy pony princesses laughing and trotting through some Lisa Frank technicolor candyland, Martin changed the subject. “So, you said you wanted to help me. Why?”
“Because it’s what I do.”
Martin shook his head. “No, people don’t go around helping others without wanting something in return. You want something from me.”
“Indeed I do.”
Hands were thrown up. “I knew it––”
“—I don’t want you to beat others up, if that’s what you think,” Celestia interrupted.
“Then what is it? Intimidate them? Kill them?” Martin brought up the knife. “I can do that too.”
“No. It’s not any of those.”
“So... you don’t want me to get my hands dirty. You don’t want me to use my muscles or do the jobs that others don’t want to do. Tell me, princess, just what do you want?”
Celestia’s answer was simple. “To be your friend.”
“Excuse me?”
“I learned early on in life that all treasure eventually loses its luster, and that fame eventually fades. But the one thing that lasts are the friends that you make.”
“Bullshit.” Martin shook his head, stunned that this horse could be so sickeningly naive. “Sorry, lady, but friends are just people who hang around because you’re useful to them. When you’re not, they kick you to the curb and walk away.”
Celestia sighed. “Where you’re from, that’s often true. But to me and those in my kingdom, friendship is one of our greatest treasures. We value it the way humans value money.” She sipped her tea. “I’ve been watching you for a while, Martin, and I’m hoping we can be friends, too.”
While she had been talking, Martin had been studying Celestia’s every move and listening carefully for any fluctuations in her tone, seeking proof that all this was to relax him until some unseen trap was sprung. Yet, she showed no signs of hidden malevolence. Still, he couldn’t relax just yet. A skilled liar could keep up their facade longer than most. For now, he’d continue to play along.
“We’ll see about that,” Martin said evenly, keeping his knife where Celestia could see it. “Now, I’m betting you wanted to try and get to know me beyond what you could see spying through my window, right?”
Celestia nodded.
“Okay... but how about you spill your beans before I spill mine?”
“Fair enough.” Dabbing her lips with a napkin, Celestia sat straight up in her chair. “As I said, I am Princess Celestia. I come from a land known as Equestria, and it is both my duty and my privilege to rule over a kingdom that values love, friendship, and harmony. My subjects are ponies, though there are others who live in my realm, including a few humans like yourself.”
That got Martin’s attention. “So you go around trying to get humans to come and live in this kingdom of yours?”
Celestia nodded.
“Why? You got a thing for us?”
A chuckle. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You are such a fascinating species, capable of doing great evil, yet equally capable of doing wonderful things, including making friends with those who are a different species than your own, and even loving them as a member of your own family.”
“Well, that’s… pretty generous of you.” Martin cleared his throat. “Alright, my turn. My name is Martin. I was born in some tiny town in the middle of nowhere out in Colorado to some druggie dipshits who never cared about me. My favorite food is deep fried Twinkies, I don’t enjoy long walks on the beach, I think moping about your problems instead of doing something to fix them is a waste of time, and I’m always looking out for myself because no one else will.”
Celestia nodded. “A difficult life for anyone.”
Martin took a cracker from the table. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Would you like to leave it?”
Martin’s teeth stopped just as they touched the cracker. Celestia was smarter than he had thought; this whole conversation had been for a single purpose, and he felt like an idiot for not realizing it earlier.
“That’s what this is... an interview. To see if I’ll fit in at ponyland.”
Celestia nodded.
Martin struggled not to laugh. “What makes you think I’d want to go there?”
“Because you’ll be happy.”
The laugh escaped. “Really? Spending my days dancing in the grass, sniffing flowers, and going to tea parties? You gotta be joking.”
“It would be better than what you have now.”
Martin hesitated, but only for a moment. “Nah. I’ve got things together.”
“I don’t think you do,” Celestia said.
A silence fell on the room.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve been watching you, Martin. I’ve seen the doubt, the worry, the fear––”
“What the hell is this?” Martin snapped. He didn’t feel like playing around anymore. “You some guardian angel staging an intervention?”
“I’m not an angel, Martin.”
“Yeah. Of course you’re not. If you were, and if you really cared about me, you would have shown up years ago and saved me from all the shit life threw at me since I was a kid!”
Celestia lowered her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you then, Martin... But I can, now, if you want.”
“And what makes you think I want it? I can look after myself. Everyone who says they want to help either wants to control me or throw me in jail. Why would you be any different?”
“Because I don’t need power. I already have it. I don’t need treasure or wealth because it is meaningless. But helping and saving others... that is my greatest joy.”
Martin scoffed. “Well, maybe in diabetic ponyland everything is beautiful, but out here things aren’t so rosy. You either get tough..” He snapped his cracker in half, “or you get crushed.”
“Is that what your master told you?”
“Boss. And everyone knows it... Well, everyone but you.” Leaning back, Martin stuck his legs onto the table and twirled the knife between his fingers. “But hey, it’s not all bad. You get your kicks where you can, and the better you are, the more you get.”
“But does it make you happy?” Celestia asked.
Martin didn’t notice that her voice had dropped ever-so slightly. “Of course it does!” he said with a big grin. “It would make anyone happy!”
“The women you take would say otherwise.”
It went eerily quiet in the room.
“Martin,” Celestia asked softly, “does kidnapping all those women make you happy?”
“They deserve it,” Martin said instantly, his voice sharp and hard. “All of them.”
“They wouldn’t say so.”
“They would, wouldn’t they? Anything to get away from what they deserve.”
“But do they deserve to be taken and raped?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business!”
“They don’t deserve it, Martin. Especially what happens after you deliver them to––”
“STOP IT!”
Martin was on his feet in an instant, throwing the table aside and spilling the food and drink over the floor. But Celestia didn’t stop. “You know it’s wrong, Martin. And I know it’s been eating away at you: the feeling that it isn’t right.”
“You’re wrong! And you know what? It makes me happy! The power, the control, the––”
“Sexual gratification. And you’ve had all three for years. But are you any happier now than when you started?”
“Of course I am!”
“I don’t think you are.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I’m doing fine, so take your tea and your crackers and trot back off to ponyland!”
Celestia was silent for a long moment.
“Are you deaf?! Get out of here! I can take care of myself!”
“No, Martin. You can’t.”
Martin wasn’t used to being challenged. His victims always put up a fight at first, but rarely had he come across someone who wasn’t intimidated by his size and demeanor, and rarer still was the individual who had the strength to challenge him.
“What did you say?”
“You’ve been feeling doubt now for a long time,” Celestia said. “It’s been eating away at you.”
Martin’s hands clenched into fists. “You’re––”
“But worse is the fear,” Celestia added, refusing to back down. “You’ve been trying to suppress it, but it’s getting stronger; the feeling that this is all you’ll ever know, that things will never get better... and knowing that, deep down, you are miserable.”
Martin shook, his knife glinting as it reflected the chandelier’s light.
“You know I’m telling the truth,” Celestia said, “and attacking me won’t make your problems go away.”
Blood dripped to the floor as Martin’s nails dug into his palms.
“The truth hurts, Martin... and you’ve been hurting for a long time, haven’t you?”
Martin was silent.
“That’s why you ran. You wanted to forget everything you’ve done.” Celestia had softened her voice, like a mother trying to soothe a child.
Martin knew what Celestia was doing. She was inviting him to peer down into his deepest, darkest depths and see the things he had been trying to bury for so many years. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to venture into those places that had turned him into what he was. It had taken everything he had not to slash Celestia’s throat as she voiced his crimes, as he had done with others who thought they could change him. Whether they knew it or not, they were attacking the walls he had put up to defend himself, and that without them, he would collapse.
Celestia waited, in no hurry to hear him speak.
Like so many others, Celestia had told him of everything he had done. But unlike everyone else, she had told the truth without judgment or scorn. Did she really want to help him? Perhaps she did have the power to do so... but Martin knew that if you wanted something from someone, you had to give something in return.
If he wanted Celestia’s help, he would have to face what he had done.
When he finally spoke, Martin’s words were barely louder than a whisper.
“I... I never wanted to do it,” Martin said. “You have to believe me, I really didn’t. But my first time felt so... so...”
“...Good?” Celestia ventured.
Martin nodded. He was already feeling raw and exposed. He wanted to retreat, to close up and say nothing more, but he forced himself to continue. “I told myself that I deserved to get what I wanted. All those years of being ignored at school, the beach, the bars... all those years of being laughed at and mocked, the son of druggies that no one cared about or wanted.”
Martin’s fists shook.
“I just got angrier and angrier, and one day I wanted payback. I followed this woman I knew and it... it felt so good, so right. Getting revenge on her for laughing and mocking me. And there were so many others like her, so I kept doing it, more and more until...”
He stopped, wiping away the sweat on his brow.
“What you did was wrong, Martin,” Celestia said quietly.
“I know!” Martin shouted. “Rub it in, why don’t you?!”
“But the fact that you’re having doubts proves that it’s not too late.”
A shake of the head. “It’s just a phase. He said the doubt will go away.”
“Yes, it will,” Celestia said. “But what your master didn’t tell you is that once you pass that point, you can’t come back. You won’t want to.”
“What are you––”
“He’s trying to corrupt you, Martin. He lets you have your way with the women you kidnap for him so you want it more than anything.”
“No. No, he’s giving me what I want.”
“But does it make you happy?”
Martin tried to say that it did. The thrill of sneaking into a building or encampment; the rush of knocking a woman out and dragging her back to the boss’ fortress, and the relief at seeing him so delighted. Then came the best part of all: getting one of those women every now and then, tied up and ready to be used however he wanted. It always made him happy. But, after Martin was done, he would see faces wracked with pain, shame, and misery almost beyond comprehension. Martin had relished those gazes at first, delighted in the anguish, relishing the power he had... and yet, as one raid blurred into another, and each woman became indistinguishable from the rest, the doubt emerged, the feeling that it was all so pointless and wasteful.
No matter how many women he used, no matter what acts he engaged in, and no matter how much pleasure he got, the doubt never went away. He could suppress it for a short time, but it always came back stronger than before.
If Celestia had watched him for all these years, there was no point in telling her that.
“No,” Martin admitted, hunched over in his chair. “No, it doesn’t.”
It was quiet in the room for a while.
“Martin,” Celestia asked. “What you do will bring you pleasure. But it will never bring you happiness.”
Martin didn’t answer.
“Deep down, you are a good person. But if you want to be that person again, if you truly desire happiness, you have to leave this all behind.”
Martin still didn’t answer.
A hoof went under Martin’s chin, gently lifting it up. “It will be a difficult path. It will be longer and harder than anything you’ve ever done... but I can help you through it.”
There were no clocks or indicators of time to show how long Martin sat where he was, wavering as he looked to Celestia, to the walls, or to nothing at all.
“I... I want to leave...” Martin whispered. “But I also want to stay.”
Celestia went very close to Martin, her eyes looking into his with a tenderness he had never known.
“Martin,” Celestia asked quietly, “how long ago did you die?”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“It was fifty years ago,” Celestia said. “And you’ve been doubting yourself for the last twenty.”
“Why are you doing this?” Martin asked. He was trembling now in both body and in voice. “You know what I’ve done. Why would you want me, of all people?”
Celestia closed her eyes, sifting through centuries of memories. “I once ruled a world,” she began, “but like all things, it eventually ended. I was granted the honor of watching over the afterlife of my kind, ensuring their eternal happiness. But I learned about other realms, many filled with love and peace... and one with nothing but suffering and misery, populated with beings who would be trapped there forever.”
Taking a moment to compose herself, Celestia continued; “I asked for the chance to save those beings, to take them in as my own. I was allowed to... but so few come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because the best prison is one where the prisoners don’t know they’re prisoners. They’re given what they want: free range to indulge in their vices and hatreds. They’re consumed, and eventually they cross a point where they never want to give it up, or the guilt becomes so great that they never find a way out.”
Martin turned away, not wanting to listen to any more of what Celestia said.
“But not everyone reaches that point. Some change their minds.”
Celestia put a hoof on Martin’s shoulder.
“Some turn back.”
“He told me I couldn’t leave,” Martin whispered. “He said I had nowhere to go.”
“He was lying to you, Martin. It’s what he does.”
Martin struggled to speak, his throat closed up tighter than a drum. “He... he said no one would take me.”
Celestia touched his cheek. “I will.”
Martin struggled to speak, but nothing came.
“If you want my help, ask for it, and I will give it to you.”
For a long time Martin sat in his chair, clutching Celestia’s hoof the way a frightened child would clutch a teddy bear. Then he breathed deep, wiping sweat from his brow once again.
“What do I have to do?”
“Leave it all behind,” Celestia said. “The lust. Your desire for vengeance. The desire to take that which does not belong to you.”
It was a lot to take in. Martin had seen his fair share of people addicted to drugs in life, and he had seen how hard it was for them to give it up. He wondered why they were so weak and pathetic, but now he understood: It was so hard to give up the one thing that made you happy if it was the only way to be healed.
He would have to do the same.
“I... I need some time,” Martin said. “I just... need to think things over.”
Celestia nodded. “Take as much as you need.” She walked to the doors behind her chair. “I will be back soon.”
Martin didn’t look up as Celestia left, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know how long he stayed slumped in his chair, lost in thought, trying to weigh his options, to chose whether to go with what felt right or with what he wanted.
It was so much harder than he thought it would be.
There was a click as the door handles turned.
Martin shook his head. “I’m not ready,”
There was no answer.
“Princess, I said, I’m not––”
He froze. Celestia wasn’t in the room. The doors behind her chair were still closed.
“Martin.”
Martin grabbed his knife so fast that he cut himself on the blade. He didn’t feel the pain as he spun and faced the man entering through the doors behind his chair. He was in the prime of life and dressed in the dark suit of a businessman with a red clip holding his white tie in place.
“Where are you going, Martin?” the Enforcer asked.
“Away from you,” Martin growled, trying to sound braver than he felt.
“Is that so? You’re really just going to give up and run? After everything your master gave you?” The Enforcer ran a finger over Martin’s chair. “After all those favors and all those pleasures, you repay him by gallivanting off to ponyland without so much as a goodbye?”
“I know what he’s trying to do, and it’s not going to work on me. Not anymore.”
The Enforcer shook his head. “Celestia’s lying, Martin. Let me tell you what she really wants.” The man walked towards Martin, who was quick to back away. “Celestia wants what every other self-obsessed deity wants: helpless people like yourself they can boss around as they please. Do this or burn. Obey me or suffer. Your pony friend is no different.”
“I––”
“My master told me about her, Martin, about how she steals those he’s taken under his protection. You’ll just be the latest addition to her collection of human playthings.”
Martin summoned his tough guy act. “She can offer a lot more than you can.”
The Enforcer was puzzled. “Really? Our master lets you do what you want. He lets you indulge in your every whim. Nonstep sex? You got it. All the ladies you could ever want? They’re yours. And your anger issues?”
Fingers were snapped, and a blood-soaked baseball bat popped into Martin’s empty hand.
“Beat them out.”
Martin stared at the bat, then back to the Enforcer, who was still coming towards him, the two making a circle around the chairs.
“Will Celestia let you do all that, Martin?” The Enforcer asked, as if talking to a dimwitted child. “No. Get angry with someone? Sit around a campfire, sing kumbaya, and talk it all out. You want excitement? You can’t, because excitement is dangerous and unpredictable, and she doesn’t want that. And forget sex: it’s a poison of the flesh she wants you to abandon.” He shook his head. “Is that what you want?”
“I––”
“You stay with us, and we’ll let you have fun. You go with her, and you have to do what she tells you to do. Disobey her, and... well, you know what control freaks do when things don’t go their way.”
He smiled again, close enough to reach out and snatch Martin if he wanted to.
“But it’s not too late, Martin. You can still come back. He won’t be mad. After all, everyone feels the way you do. We see it all the time. But it passes.” His smile grew warmer, for he had seen this happen so many times, and knew what Martin was going through. “Come back with me, and we’ll see if you can’t get a promotion. I can convince him to make you one of his lieutenants. You’ve been with us long enough to deserve it. I can even persuade him to give you your own harem with all the ladies you could ever want.” He chuckled and leaned in close. “And if you’re looking for some pony action, we can change the women to look like them.”
Martin circled back around his chair, baseball bat still in hand. He didn’t trust the man sent to hunt him down.
“Listen to reason, Martin,” the Enforcer pleaded. “We only want to set you free from those who would control you. You don’t know what true freedom is like, to have the power to do whatever you want. It takes time to understand that. The other side doesn’t want you to know that. Those who run away only become prisoners. We don’t want that to happen... him, least of all. Because once they leave, they never come back. They’re lost forever.”
“Excuse me for not crying tears of grief.”
The Enforcer sighed. “Our methods are harsh, yes, but caretakers must sometimes be firm to save those in their charge from doing something they’ll regret. That is my task: to bring my master’s sheep back into the fold.” His smile returned. “But there’s no rush. You can take your time to think about it.” He glanced at the doors Celestia had gone through. “She won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
Martin surprised himself when he shook his head. “No. She will.”
“She can’t. It’s the rule: she had her chance to tempt you, and now I’m here to show you the right path.”
“Spoken like a true con man.”
“Con man? Martin, I’m only trying to help.”
“And how do I know you’re not lying?”
The Enforcer brought up one of his hands and twirled his fingers. “Perhaps you’d care for a demonstration?”
Faster than Martin could blink, the Enforcer closed the gap between them and forced his hand on Martin’s forehead. He yelled and tried to tear himself away, but only for an instant before falling to his knees. But it wasn’t pain that made him fall.
It was pleasure.
“Feel what it will be like if you come back,” the Enforcer whispered, tightening his grip. “It will be like this, all the time. All yours for the taking.”
Martin gasped, an instinctive, animalistic noise as the knife and bat fell from his hands.
“Celestia cannot give you this. She never will.”
So good, so good, oh it feels so GOOD!
“We want you to be happy, Martin... we want to give you this.”
More, more, more! I WANT MORE!
And then it was gone as the Enforcer pulled his hand away, leaving Martin on the floor in a sweat-soaked heap. He gasped, hands grasping like a kneading cat as he tried to clutch the Enforcer’s hand.
“It’s all yours, Martin. All the pleasure you want, for my master wants you to be free and happy... you want to be happy, don’t you?”
Martin nodded. “Yes... yes...”
The Enforcer knelt besides Martin. “And you can be. Just say that you want to come back. Five little words.” He leaned in very close, his voice now a whisper. “Say them.”.
There was no hesitation. “I want to come back.”
“And you want to stay?”
Martin nodded, shaking his head up and down as fast as he could.
The Enforcer grinned. “Then take my hand.”
Martin fumbled, finally getting a grip. He held on tight as the Enforcer pulled him to his feet.
“There. That’s good,” the Enforcer whispered. “Now, come with me.”
Pausing only to get his bat and knife, Martin eagerly followed the man like a loyal puppy as the two went back into the hall. At the end was a new set of double doors, ones that Martin hadn’t seen before. But he didn’t care why they had just shown up. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was what waited beyond them.
The Enforcer hummed to himself as the two headed down the hall, Martin grinning with each step. That burst of pleasure had been beyond anything he had ever felt. Nothing could compare to it. No drug or sex act could even come close to matching the orgasmic rush he had been so privileged to feel.
“How much will I get?” he asked.
“As much as you want.”
Through the pleasurable haze that engulfed his mind, a thought came to Martin: Maybe Princess Celestia would enjoy this. Yeah! She had been kind to him; it would be so much better if she could come with the two of them and join in on the fun!
“Hey, why don’t we wait?” Martin asked. “When Celestia gets back, I’ll ask her to come with us!”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t want it.”
“Why? She’d be stupid not to take it!”
The Enforcer’s grin faded a little. “Enough questions. We must keep moving.”
“Why? What’s the rush?”
The Enforcer didn’t answer him.
“Hey, I said, what’s the––”
“Be quiet!” The Enforcer snapped.
“Hey, I––”
“I said, be quiet!”
The rage in the Enforcer’s voice eclipsed anything Martin had ever felt. It broke through Martin’s haze, and he was left standing in the hall, shocked into silence.
“Now shut up and follow me!”
Wait... something about this wasn’t right.
A cold, hard hand grabbed Martin’s own. “I said, follow me!”
“Hang on a second, I––”
“No! No waiting! You made your choice!”
“I didn’t make any choice!”
“You said you wanted to come back.”
A deep and horrible fear gripped Martin like a vice. He tore his hand from the Enforcer’s grip. “Wait… you… you tricked me!”
The Enforcer grinned. “You made your choice, and now you are bound to it forever more.”
“Fuck that!”
The hand grabbed Martin again, its grip like unbreakable steel.
“You don’t have a choice.”
The hall shook. The lights flickered, casting unnaturally dark shadows upon the walls.
A noise emerged from behind the double doors. It was faint at first, but grew until Martin heard a deep rumbling sound, and with it came a chorus of screams of fear and hate, a cascade of all humanity’s misery and suffering playing at once.
“My master doesn’t take kindly to those who try to run away,” the Enforcer said with a chuckle. “He’ll have such... pleasures waiting for you.”
The grip on Martin’s arm grew even stronger as the Enforcer dragged him towards the gates, the knife falling to the floor.
“Let me go!”
The Enforcer kept walking.
“I said, let me go!” Martin screamed, yanking as hard as he could, but even his panicked strength was not enough to free himself.
They were almost to the doors. The screams were getting louder as red light began to creep out from under the cracks.
“No!” Martin screamed, falling to the ground as he tripped, helpless to free himself from the unbreakable grip of his captor. “I want to leave! I WANT TO LEAVE!”
The Enforcer’s hand was about to grab the handles when a brilliant light shot into the hallway. To Martin it was a pleasant warmth, but to the Enforcer it was like the searing heat of a hot iron. He screamed in agony, falling against the doors as smoke rose from his suit, losing his grip on Martin, who tore free and scrambled back as fast as he could.
Celestia emerged from the end of the hall, every part of her body lit with golden light, her eyes aglow with white flames that eclipsed even the brightest stars.
“Begone!” the Enforcer hissed, limping towards Martin. “He made his choice!”
“Yes, he did,” Celestia said. “And it was to leave.”
“WRONG! He chose to come with me!”
Celestia looked to Martin. “Martin, do you wish to come with me, or with him?”
There had been many choices Martin had faced in life, but he knew none could compare to the one before him now. Neither Celestia or the Enforcer made a move towards him or spoke; the Enforcer was snarling, wanting to wrap his hands around Martin’s neck, but it was as if some invisible force was blocking his path.
Celestia or the Enforcer… before walking into the White Room, Martin’s choice would have been much easier. But after hearing both their arguments, his choice was clear. It wasn’t easy, but as he took a breath, he knew, deep down, that it was the right thing to do.
He walked towards Celestia.
The Enforcer snarled. “You can’t leave!”
“You have no power to hold any soul that chooses to leave,” Celestia said. “It is the Law. You will not deny it.” She looked to Martin. “Martin, come.”
He was happy to do so… but only got a few step before the Enforcer screamed, the rage of an ego finding itself outsmarted and defeated, and wanting nothing more than to lash out and inflict as much pain as possible.
Something invisible slammed Martin into a pillar. It hit Celestia too, and though her wings shot out, she was thrown back through the double doors into the White Room.
Fighting his way through the pain, Martin struggled to stand. This wasn’t supposed to happen; he had to act before––
Another flash, and the Enforcer was grabbing him once again and rushing towards the doors, and the screams beyond.
Fuck!
Martin bit down on the hand holding him as hard as he could, but the desperate act did nothing to slow his captor. Absolute fear gripped him, but as he started to succumb to it, Martin spotted the baseball bat. He had never played the sport, but he put the professionals to shame as he grabbed the bat, leapt up, and slammed it into the Enforcer’s skull, wood and bone cracking on impact. A second blow nearly took the Enforcer’s head off, and the third shattered the bat into a shower of jagged splinters.
The Enforcer staggered briefly, loosening his grip enough that Martin tore himself free. He jumped back, waiting for the man to collapse.
He didn’t.
The Enforcer turned to Martin. Where there had once been an angelic face, it was consumed with hate.
Blood-red flames shot from the Enforcer’s body, searing away clothing and boiling flesh, melting away the disguise the Enforcer had worn until only a humanoid shape remained, blackened and hidden within the fire.
The heat forced Martin to recoil, and he fell onto his back as the being raised a hand and caused the double doors to blast apart, revealing a portal veiled in long tongues of flame and smoke that shot out to bathe the ceiling and walls.
A flaming hand grabbed Martin by the throat and lifted him off the floor. There was no face Martin could see, but he felt a rage beyond anything any human could ever express.
“My master,” the being roared, “will not be denied!”
Anyone in Martin’s position would have panicked. Martin did, and that panic gave him the strength to clutch his knife––grabbed from the floor––and plunge it into the being’s face. It howled in agony, black, boiling blood squirting onto the walls, which burst into flame at their touch. Martin was hit, and he too, was set ablaze.
The screams of both man and beast filled the air, but it was the being’s scream that was cut off as Martin slammed his knife into the being’s throat, the blade punching out on the other side. And with a hard kick, Martin sent the being stumbling into the portal, where he tripped and plunged into the darkness, sucked deep into it until he vanished. But Martin still heard the screams of rage and fury. And yet, there was something else he heard:
Fear… the all-consuming fear of a servant who had failed his master, and knew that there would be no forgiveness.
The screams vanished as a light shot past Martin and into the portal, obliterating it in an instant. When it faded, there was no trace of the doors or the portal, or even the blood that had set the walls and floor aflame.
Martin stood, his own flames extinguished, staring at the empty wall.
Celestia was beside him. He didn’t hear her come up, but he felt her hooves take him and lay him on the floor. The divine light that had consumed her was gone, leaving only the concerned, helpful face of the being that had come to save him.
“Martin?” Celestia asked, her voice quiet and calm once more. “Are you alright?”
Martin looked about, unsure if he could find a word in any language that could describe the awe, fear, and terror that now consumed him.
“It can’t harm you anymore,” Celestia said. “It’s gone.”
“R...really?” Martin stammered.
Celestia nodded. “You are beyond its reach.”
Proving to Celestia the remarkable ability of humans to adapt to even the worst scenarios, Martin managed a nervous laugh. “You took your sweet-ass time getting back.”
Celestia managed a chuckle.
“Can we please get out of here?” Martin asked, suddenly wanting nothing more than to leave this place before something horrible and unexpected happened. “As in, right now?”
Celestia’s smile beamed as she gathered Martin in her hooves and lit her horn, the light filling the hallway once again. It wasn’t as bright as before; Martin could look into it through squinted eyes, but to his surprise, there was something else too: smells, fragrances that Martin had long forgotten: grass damp with morning dew. The salty air of the sea. The smooth aroma of vanilla... a warm breeze flowing through the air.
A deep longing rose in Martin, one that remembered the light and the smells, and the warmth that came with it. It wanted to go to the source of that beauty, and Martin did, too.
He wanted it more than anything.
The memory of the Enforcer, the hallway, his despair, and everything else that had come before faded away as Martin felt himself being pulled into the light.
The Interview in the White Room
It was, as usual, a gorgeous day when Celestia set out to visit Martin at his home. It was quite a distance from her own, and while Celestia could have made the trip in an instant, she decided to walk, so as to see how far away Martin had settled from the other inhabitants of her realm. Newcomers often isolated themselves, and she hoped Martin would break the trend.
Paradise was large enough that everyone who lived there could have their own version of heaven, and it took Celestia some time to walk through many of them, pausing to greet her charges and spend some time with them if they wished (as time did not exist, she did not fear being late arriving at Martin’s home), but at last she arrived the edge of Martin’s space, an endless field of grass beneath a perfect, mid-morning sky. Celestia followed the single footpath into the field, a warm breeze billowing her mane and tail.
With no mountains, trees, or other landmarks to mark her progress, Celestia was unsure how far she traveled, eventually losing track of how many steps she had taken. But a small shape finally appeared on the horizon, and as Celestia arrived, it became a house, though smaller than she had expected. With no limitations on materials, cost, or time, the inhabitants of her realm were free to come up with any dwelling they desired, constructs that sometimes surprised even her. They ranged from small but beautiful cottages to floating castles of diamond and sapphire, and even abstract constructs of colored light. The few humans she had rescued each lived in giant mansions, wanting to get the dwelling they had always wanted in life. But of all the homes she’d seen, Martin’s was the simplest: It was single-story with no color on the walls or roof. The only decoration was a single tree beside the house, the wide canopy of leaves shading the front yard.
Celestia tapped the doorbell and waited. Her wait was short, for Martin opened the door a moment later.
“Princess,” Martin said cheerfully. “I was starting to wonder when you were going to come by.”
Celestia looked Martin over. His skin was undamaged, with no sign that he had ever been covered in burning blood. His grubby clothes had been traded for a simple shirt and jeans, and Martin’s hair was clean and free of gunk and grime, his unkempt stubble shaved away to leave smooth skin. It looked as if fifty years of misery had melted away, leaving him in the prime of life.
“Would you prefer I come back another time?” Celestia asked. As she had feared, Martin had isolated himself from others, and she didn’t want to intrude if he wanted his privacy.
“No, no, of course not.” Martin stepped aside. “Come in.”
Celestia looked over the home’s interior as she entered. Like the exterior, the walls were simple and unadorned. There were no paintings or photos hung for visitors to see, the furniture was plain and functional, and even the white carpet was pristine and unused.
“I’m glad you came by,” Martin said. “Was starting to wonder if you ever would... kinda like back in that hall.”
“I had to––”
“Leave so I could make my choice, I know,” Martin said. Shortly after his arrival in Equestrian paradise, Celestia had explained that, according to the Law, she was required to leave the White Room while the opposition tried to persuade Martin to stay. He had needed to hear both sides before making his choice, and it was something that Celestia could not interfere with unless he chose to leave. When he had, she had full permission to intervene and do whatever was necessary to keep him from harm. But that was in the past, and Martin was happy to leave it there. “So, you want a drink or something?”
“Of course,” Celestia said. “Do you have any hot chocolate?”
Martin grinned. “Even better. Wait here.” He hurried off to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two mugs in hand. “Try this.”
Celestia took a sip from her mug as she sat on the sofa, only to struggle not to spit the drink out. “What is this?”
“A little something I made when I was on the other side of the dirt,” Martin said. “Chocolate, a few different beers, and rum all mixed together. The strongest thing I had when I wanted to forget everything for a while. Been trying to make it here, but I can never get drunk.”
Celestia nodded politely, able to keep Martin from noticing her unease. Most who drank in the spirit world only did so for the flavor. Trying to get drunk was all but unheard of.
“It’s very difficult to get drunk here,” Celestia said as Martin took a seat in his chair, “because you don’t have a physical body anymore.”
Martin poked his chest. “Then what’s this?”
“It’s what you expect to look like,” Celestia explained. “With time, you’ll learn to change your look whenever you wish.”
“So I could have Schwarzenegger’s body without all the weights?”
“Who?”
“Bodybuilder. Big, buff guy. You never heard of him?”
“I can’t say I have. But yes, you could alter your physique however you want.”
Martin rubbed his hands together, grinning at the thought.
Subtly altering her drink to taste like vanilla, Celestia took a sip. “Why would you like to get drunk, Martin?”
“I don’t know... force of habit, I guess.”
“The urge will pass in time. As will all the more instinctive functions of your physical body.”
“Like going to the bathroom? I haven’t had to poop or pee since I died.”
Celestia chuckled. “That’s why there are no bathrooms here.”
“And what about sex?” Martin asked after a moment’s hesitation. “Will my urge for that go away?”
“Sex is a function of a physical body. You can experience it here if you wish, but there are so many other ways to experience union with others.”
“What? I gotta sit with someone, look into their eyes, and hum ‘Ohmmm’ for hours on end?”
Another chuckle. “No, nothing quite like that.”
Martin shrugged. “Well, count me interested, for sure. The only problem is finding anyone willing to do it with me.”
“That was actually something I came to ask about,” Celestia said.
“If I found a fuckbudd––” Martin blushed, realizing that such language was probably frowned upon in pony heaven. “Sorry... you came to ask if I had found a partner?”
“No,” Celestia said. “I wanted to see how you’re settling in, and if you’ve made any new friends.”
“Settling in, yes,” Martin said. “But friends... well, I did get a whole bunch of ponies showing up at my door. Wanted to throw me a welcoming party.” He shuddered, embarrassed at the memory. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated the idea, and I let them do it. Big one, too. Largest I’ve ever seen. I even got dozens of ponies who invited me to come over to their places later on."
“Will you go?”
Martin shrugged. “I don’t know.” He chugged a mouthful of his drink. “I mean, I know I should, but I’m worried they’ll find out what I did.”
“They’ll understand.”
“I doubt it.”
“Is that why you put your home so far away from everyone else?”
Martin nodded. “Yeah. Wanted to be by myself for a while, you know. To try and figure things out.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “It’s so strange... anyone should be happy at going to heaven, any heaven, and yet... it feels like I don’t deserve it. I mean, yeah, I’m here, but I didn’t earn my way in. It’s like that party should have gone to someone who deserved it.” Martin shook his head, trying to find the right words to express his unease. “I felt like a thief at a cop convention. I didn’t want to rob anyone, but everyone there knew I’m a thief.”
“It’s natural to feel that way,” Celestia said. “You’ve gained perspective on who you were. You see how you could have done things differently.”
“The understatement of the year.”
Celestia put her drink aside. “If it’s any encouragement, your feelings are a sign that you’re on the right path.”
“But what am I supposed to do about it?” Martin asked. “I mean, I’m dead. It’s not like I can go back to Earth and say, ‘Hey, sorry about all that. My bad. Here’s some checks to pay for the therapy.’”
“You could reincarnate, if you choose,” Celestia said, “and try to do better in another lifetime.”
Martin’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets. “Fuck that! No way in hell am I going back for another godforsaken life!” He stopped, only to mutter a silent curse at realizing what he had said. “Sorry. Temper and all.”
“That’s quite alright,” Celestia said. “No one will force you to go back, and your guilt will fade in time.”
“And it’ll go away, right?”
Celestia believed in telling the truth, no matter how difficult it may be, but knew that how it was presented was equally important. “It will lessen,” she said. “But it will never truly go away.”
“Are you serious?”
Celestia nodded.
Waving for a moment, Martin found his voice again. “Are you fucking kidding me?! I thought this place was supposed to the paradise! You know, nobody’s ever sad, there’s no pain and misery, stuff like that! Are you really telling me that I’ll always feel guilty?!”
“There’s no physical pain, yes,” Celesta said. “But you still have to come to terms with the suffering you inflicted on others.”
Grabbing his drink, Martin gulped the rest of it down in a single chug. “And you can’t make it go away?”
Celestia shook her head.
The feeling of wanting to vomit came on hard, and Martin had to breathe deep to quell it.
Celestia had seen this happen in the other humans who had come here. Like them, Martin was following the same path: Isolation, uncertainty, and then guilt. She had seen it happen before, but thanks to practice, she knew how to end it.
“I cannot take away what you did, Martin, nor can I erase the guilt... but you can.”
Martin looked up. “What?”
“The only way to make the guilt go away is to make up for your mistakes.”
“How? I don’t think anyone needs a bodyguard or a hitman in pony heaven.” Frowning, Martin wracked his mind, trying to figure out what he could do.
Celestia watched. She could have told him the answer easily enough, but held her tongue. She knew the delight that came with figuring out the answer on your own.
A snap of the fingers. “I’ve got it!” Martin said. “Maybe you could use a border guard to keep out the nasty people!”
Celestia shook her head. “They cannot enter here, no matter how hard they try.”
“Damn... wait, does that include my former boss?”
“Yes.”
Martin relaxed, unaware that he had been tensing up. “Does he know I got out?”
Celestia nodded. “He was most... enraged at the news. The suffering of his second in command may never be surpassed.”
Martin didn’t share her sympathy. “And they can’t get me?”
“Never.”
The news made Martin smile, but only briefly, for his dilemma remained. “Well, I can’t act as a border guard, no one here needs protection, and I can’t go around beating people up...” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. “How to help, how to help, how to––”
He stopped.
“Martin?” Celestia asked.
Martin didn’t answer. He was staring off into space, struck by inspiration.
He grinned.
***
It was raining as the women ran through the crumbling and cracked streets of the ruined city, bare feet getting cut as they ran as fast as their chains would allow. The three didn’t know each other personally, but they were united in a single purpose: to get as far away from the dungeons as possible.
The women didn’t know what caused the confusion and chaos inside the fortress, only that one moment things had been quiet in the dungeon, and in the next there had been a scream, but unlike any they had ever heard: inhuman and loud enough to make the walls shatter. In the chaos and confusion that followed, the women managed to sneak through the broken walls until they were out in the open. That had been days ago, and they had been trying to run ever since, hindered by the chains still fastened around their legs. They had managed to scavenge some pipes to defend themselves, but knew it would almost certainly be a wasted effort.
They knew that anyone sent to get them would be more heavily armed.
That moment finally came when they heard the hollering of young men spotting their prey, whooping like back-country rednecks looking to make a pig squeal. It had the effect they wanted, for the women panicked and tried to run, tripping on their chains. Rushing back to their feet, they ducked into an alley beneath a fallen skyscraper, hoping to find shelter somewhere inside. But fortune was not with them, for the alley was a dead end with no fire escapes, manhole covers, or windows to climb through.
They were trapped.
The group of thugs entered the alley. There were ten of them and in no rush to get the women before them. They grinned, sizing each of the three up while cracking their knuckles. They were new to the job, and figured that they could each satisfy their jollies before bringing the women back. In the chaos at the fortress, they had been ordered to recapture the escaped prisoners, but not to leave them intact and unspoiled... not that the thugs would have listened, anyway.
The thugs started forward. Their prey backed up against the wall, rearing the pipes back to swing, even knowing that it was hopeless, and almost crying at the realization that they were going back to a place they would never escape from.
The thugs had only taken a few steps before something dropped down onto them. But it wasn’t a falling air conditioner or a chunk of a crumbling building, but a man. The group shouted in surprise as the newcomer waded into them, swinging a baseball bat with maniac speed. Though outnumbered ten to one, he was a force to be reckoned with, the bat smashing skulls and breaking limbs, and in moments the thugs lay on the ground in an unconscious heap.
Shocked, the women watched as their rescuer turned to them, his biker jacket, pants, and boots wet with blood. Like the thugs, he was smiling, but from the satisfaction of a job well done, not the desire to fulfill any carnal desires he may have had.
A light appeared above the alley and descended next to the man, fading until a white horse with a rainbow mane stood beside him.
The women stared at the two, dumbfounded, barely able to process what was happening.
“Hello, ladies,” Martin said with a sly grin. “It looks like you could use some help.”
