Cursed Gears

Darkness. I sit with my heart pounding staring wide-eyed into the gloom. Finally, I hear a muffled voice.

“The dumb little bitch actually activated the Blink System on that thing. Look at where it was sitting, there's dirt here now. Displaced by the back feed of the teleport making room for him. It could be 100 meters below the ground by now and the Orb’s battery wasn’t strong enough to hold the shield and blink at the same time. It’s being suffocated as we speak. Good riddance to garbage.” Daddy… why?

Directly above me. “So the monster is dead? Always figured it would die from one of its inventions going wrong, I can’t believe I was ever worried about it, that mark…” Shine? But… why?

Tears begin to pour anew as I check the power systems of The Orb. 20% and still charging. In the back of my mind, I thank Celestia that I worked on it yesterday… and that I never told my… family. Shudders begin to wrack my body.

“Everyone let’s try and patch up the wards and get ready for bed. That thing might be a servant of the Outsiders, but it was still a foal, it’s dead.” Why? My family… Rage begins to build in me. Hatred, pain, and sadness melt into and unforgiving vendetta. Time passes as I stew and my battery slowly charges with my help.

Long after the voices have vanished and I feel the wards reactivate the rage builds to a head. “Gogar… I’m going to beat you up until you bucking die!”

With my declaration, I begin orienting The Orb so that it’s facing up out of the ground. Thankfully I’m not buried deep, just below the surface actually. 56% power. I pop open the control panel and began fiddling with overrides and redirecting power. 62% power. I hit the button and watch the power drop to 27% power as The Orb lurches forwards. For a moment I feel my hope draining away before it breaks through enough that I can see a glimmer of moonlight above me. Pouring power into The Orb from my horn I hit it again and pop out of the hole landing in a heap on the ground panting in exhaustion.

I shiver feeling the bone-deep cold of magical exhaustion beginning to set in as I take a deep breath of the fresh non-recycled air of the free world. I make a beeline for the shed and begin throwing what I can fit in my small utility saddlebags. I stop for a moment, realization setting in. Slowly, transfixed by the horror of the night my eyes turn to my Mark. There on my flank is a twisted thing. Colors and shapes, impossibly moving without movement, changing and roiling, shifting and twisting a horror of horrors rests on my flank. I feel sick to my stomach as I begin to feel it wriggling against my skin. This cruel mockery of a Cutie Mark, this… Cursed Mark.

The Goat’s words float back to me and A grim look crosses my face as I feel something inside of me dying. One look at this Mark and you see me as a twisted monster. I can hide it, but if I mess up, if it gets seen. As I stare my curse is made clear to me. I’m uncertain if my thoughts are my own even as I pull out the Watcher cloak I had been intending to improve and throw it over me. I lift my saddlebags up and set them in place on my back as I turn to the door. When I open it up I see a tall thin stallion wearing a wrap that completely hides his body from me on the other side.

The stranger speaks in a brogue I can’t quite place. “Lad, ye look like a bloody fool in that thing.” His telekinesis yanks the fire extinguisher from my aura as he turns gravity around us to an extreme. “Now I getcha gotta cover up yer little Mark Of Shame there, but there are far more practical ways of going aboot this. Lad, this here spell is meant for holdin’ Outsiders. A wee untrained runt like you is never gonna break it.” He chuckles as I continue to try and escape, dragging a Pop-Rock over towards me slowly in my aura. “Well, it seems yah have the spirit of a Watcher at least. Never give up no matter whatcha facing down. Death before defeat. Hah! Oi thinks Ah’ll make a Seeker out of ya yet.”

My eyes go wide as I stare at him. Seekers are the Dark Side of the Hunter Clan. The Watchers slay Outsiders while striving not to become the monsters we slay, but the Seeker? They believe in the motto of ‘Nothing should be overlooked in the war against the Outsiders, even the Outsiders own weapons. Among them are the Cursed Ones. Ponies who have to keep their bodies and names hidden as a result of contact with Outsider’s Curses. Ponies like… “Am I a Cursed One now? Are you here to be my Handler?”

The Gravity Well fades away letting me stand and stretch. “Got it in one, lad. Ah knew you were a bright lad, twas why Oi brought meself over here when Oi felt the twisting of a curse bein’ laid on ye. It’s moi job to see to it that yer brawn matches yer brain and make a right proper Hunter out of yah. Stay a Watcher, learn tah be a Seeker, it don’t rightly matter to me and a lad like you has many a year before he has to even think aboot the choice.” He casts his gaze around the room then looks at the watch on his hoof. “Oi reckon ya ain’t gonna be much good to anypony without all these shiny doodads? What good is a mad scientist without his lab? The whole thing? Aye, we're goin’ bulk shoppin' tonight! Hold on, lad! This might get a wee bit bumpy!”

The whole world seems to lurch and blur as he Warps us. When everywhen returns to normal he trots outside the shed with me trailing behind him. Looking around we are in a different part of the forest where nothing looks familiar to me. “Come along lad, there's still some cleanup left yet. Can’t have you going around alive can we?”

“What?!” I yelp, grinding to a halt and fumbling to pull out The Orb.

“Oh chin up lad, Oi don’t mean killin' yah! Yah has to cover your tracks, tie up loose ends. Officially yah story ends here. Yah died a traitor in a magical accident, your body recovered and burned and your workshop destroyed to cauterize the infection ye had. The truth an’ the facts ain’t the same thing lad, let that be lesson one for yah.”

He has me leave my things there and reshapes my cloak into a forest green full body suit to match his black one. The symbol of the Hunters is removed and replaced with the Burning Eye of the Cursed Ones. I stare at it as I feel tears threatening me again, as I hold back a shuddering sob the stranger pulls me into a hug. “Everything is gonna work out lad, just let it out Oi got yah.”

I return his hug as tears soak the cloth over my muzzle. With the danger seeming to have passed my shield of rage has shattered, bringing with it the realization that I can never go back. I’m a Cursed One now, forever to be separate from everypony else. Forever to walk Equus hunting for a cure and hunting Outsiders. All my dreams, all my cherished peace, all my love… everything that made up Gear Watcher is burning away to ashes as the stranger finishes transfiguring the cloak of the Watchers into the shroud of the Cursed.

The symbology is far from lost on me as it dawns on me what he truly meant earlier. As the shroud is finished I stand up straight and look forwards. Gear Watcher is dead. In his place stands the nameless colt being created from his remains. “Let’s finish this. My-” My resolve breaks for a moment and I swallow a lump in my throat. “His family needs be prevented from having a reason to Hunt him. But, um, what am I to call you?”

The stranger looks at me with an unreadable look on his face. His head slowly lowers as though bearing a tremendous weight. “Lad, ya call me Master, an until yah earn something different, yer just Lad. Yah keeps yer silence unless we're alone or Oi tell ya otherwise.” He finally looks up at me with his grin slowly starting to return. “Yah know yah don’t have tah come. Oi can take ye inside and set ye to bed an’ go aboot my dark business on my own.”

“I want to see. To say-” I cut off as I try and swallow another lump in my throat.

“Aye lad, if you have to say goodbye to yer old life Oi understand. Though if yer just tryin’ to show me yer strong you’ve done plenty, lad. When the shite hit the wheel an’ yah refused tah lay down an’ die ya earned my respect. Still with me? Good.” With that, we Warp to a hill overlooking the old homestead. My gaze blurs as it roams over the things that feel so familiar yet so far. The training ground, the gap where my workshop was, the three-story house where I grew up, the range where I learned to shoot bows and hoof cannons, the walled in area where so many ideas were tested. My home, no, it was his home.

As I watch space around me blurs as Master mutters words in a strange language and with a powerful Shift a copy of my body falls to the ground before him. It lays there limply before he sets it ablaze, burning it to chunks of bone and ash. Next, he turns his Outside fueled magic, or magick, towards the previous location of the workshop. A loud roar sounds as a rip in reality forms for an instant sucking everything around it in and creating a crater where it was. At the noise, the front door of the house bursts open and Gear’s father burst out.

“What is going on?”

Master’s voice is cold and flat, devoid of the inflection I’ve grown used to. “Cauterizing the infection. Cleanup and annihilation are required.”

“Required for what?” Hope fills me for a moment as I see his eyes back to normal and hear his seeming confusion.

“Your son, Gear? Do you remember?”

“My son? Gear? Who?” The yellow glow flares back in place in his eyes. “So you're getting rid of the remains of that evil bitch? It was no son of mine! Just a twisted servant of the Outside. Finish cleaning up its infection all you want, I’m going back to sleep.”

I feel frozen, a sick emptiness spreads through my gut. The pain leaves behind a numbness that seems to drain away my emotions leaving only my logic. My thoughts are clear but sluggish. Did he forget about me? Is this stage two of the curse? Something to make me suffer without turning the whole world against me all at once? The Goat is still watching me. Too much luck has played a role in my survival tonight. That thing is making sure it has it’s fun.