Aftersound: Side Stories

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Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

IAmApe, Jay Tarrant

Cover art done by:

Geka

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Faceless

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Two pools of absolute darkness reflected the shaky glow of a neon advert. It was acid pink, not matching the softer color of the thin circles surrounding the expanded pupils.

The shining sign read ‘Silken Flute’, written in flamboyant cursive. The light coming from it wavered, pulsing erratically and unhealthily. Before long the brothel’s advertisement died out, raining sparks on the busy street below.

The eyelids covered in smudged mascara closed phlegmatically, blinking away the stale tears, though they weren’t shed for the tiny extinguished sun. The neon wasn’t gone from Clandestine Delight’s eyes when they opened again to blankly stare at nothingness. That tube was just one of many, an acceptable loss in the city of artificial stars, still successfully fighting away the night, though it mattered not. That victory would be hollow for Canterlot, like almost everything there.

A hovercraft flew low, its projectors’ beams unceremoniously peeking into the windows and shadows of the thoroughfare. It also graced the sleepless pegasus’ face, spilling its painful brilliance into the dilated pupils.

Delight hissed and her wing instinctively shot up, covering her head and sending dirty sheets flying across the room. She turned away, rubbing her violated eyes, wiping away from her cheeks the wetness she hadn’t known was there. When sight returned to her, she was met with the thing she probably hated the most about her job.

A dark spot left by sweat on the bed. Once blazing hot, now growing cold.

It didn’t belong to Delight but to the nameless pony who paid for the night with her. She couldn’t even remember if it was a mare or a stallion – it didn’t really matter in the end. They were gone without a word after they were done, like everypony else. They might return one day, but she wouldn’t recognize them and they might not even recognize her.

There would be a paycheck at the end of the month. A dozen ration tickets for a top grade meal, though it was barely different from the common garbage. Some clothes, nothing fancy, but at least they would be clean. Being a pegasus she didn’t need them anyway – her plumage protected her from the cold… to some extent. Something to sell, then.

But there would never be any thanks given to her. Though the food and clothing were coming from the Crown, not to mention their protection, the Moths would never be acknowledged by the government.

No one would tell her their name or remember hers for more than a night.

With a heavy sigh Delight hopped from the creaky mattress. Her shift hadn’t started that long ago and she wasn’t the least popular mare in that establishment; she had to make herself look presentable for the next client.

The rooms, both silent and echoing with moans, passed her as she made her way to the showers. The air coming from them was hot and humid – the water never stopped running that night. It wasn’t payday, but some factories were already beginning to give out salaries.

Grabbing a piece of soap and a towel, Delight headed to the furthest stall, hoping that she wouldn’t have to wait for the only wing drier to be free. Being a pegasus also had its downsides.

Delight almost slipped on something when she stepped into the stall, cursing as she barely regained her balance. On a closer look it appeared to be a clump of hair insidiously hiding under the foam. Delight scrunched her nose and used the tip of her hoof to move it aside, rolling her eyes as she saw the color – bright pink. At this pace Candy would be left with no mane or tail – whatever she was buying in the Tunnels was doing her no favors, probably the Chemdrinkers’ stuff.

Not bothering to suppress a deep sigh, Delight turned the tap. She and Candy were both pegasi, the minority of Moths at the ‘Silken Flute’, which meant more work for Delight if her addict colleague was finally hounded out.

The searing water ran down her body, seeping under her ruffled fur, cleaning the scents of fake passion and shame out of it. She closed her eyes and let the torrent batter her face, washing away salt and her makeup mask.

Unlike Candy, Delight didn’t hate her job. It was safer than risking her life at a Spire or a factory, even more rewarding in some aspects. The reason she compared those occupations to mimicking love in bed was quite simple.

She hated ponies, also zebras and whoever else came to her for pleasure. It wasn’t some kind of burning loathing, just dull aversion, tainting every aspect of her life.

Being used wasn’t the problem, she knew of worse things ponies had done to their bodies for money. In fact, some of her clients actually weren’t bad at it, at least when she started working.

She didn’t despise Canterlot’s citizens for what they did outside the brothel either – the nightmare they had made of the city – the Royal Guard made sure she would be untouched by it.

It was all about what they didn’t do.

Delight existed for her clients only as long as their time with her remained. When the timer set up as they entered the room lamented the end of their sweet minutes, she was thrown away like a toy that was no longer fun. Left alone and forgotten until next time, if that ever happened – the city fucked her clients in quite a different way.

She was so desired, so cherished, worshipped even, during those moments full of hot breath and writhing bodies. But one sound, a sonorous beeping would always return her to her true self.

Non-existent.

After the shift was over, nothing would change. The Moth mark on her cheek would glow with imbued enchanted crystal dust, reminding everyone what she was – a pretty face to be delighted in for an affordable price, one of hundreds to be found in the countless brothels.

All she wanted was to be recognized as a mare, not as a mare for a night. To be distinguished and valued, but not in the way she already was.

To be given actual emotion.

Those thoughts reeked of familiarity; if they were a record it wouldn’t just be grooved but torn, so many times they had played out in her head. Right now she didn’t want them to echo again, she just wanted to feel nothing but the flow of almost boiling hot water cleansing her body in those rare moments at work when it belonged to her.

Yet Delight turned off the tap with another deep sigh – the night was still young and she had better be at her room when the next client arrived. Wrapping her hanging mane in a towel, she exited the stall only to nearly bump nose to nose into a unicorn mare – Kick Start.

The new addition to the growing choice of the mares in ‘Silken Flute’ recognized her former instructor immediately and was quick to read Delight’s expression like an open book – she had learned the Moths’ ways quickly.

“Why the long face, Del? Another virgin who doesn’t know from which side to approach a mare, eh?” she asked with a guffaw, nudging Delight’s shoulder with her elbow.

“Ha-ha, Kicky,” Del drily commented, rolling her eyes – her former student cracked jokes non-stop as a way to deal with the downsides of her job. Unfortunately, her sense of humor left a lot of room for improvement. But the thing was… she picked up that habit from none other than Delight. “Everypony knows that unicorns are the best for the first time.” Del accompanied her next words with putting her hoof to her forehead and wiggling it. ”Easiest to handle.”

“Sheesh,” Kick winced away. However, only a moment passed and her eyes lit up from inspiration. “The shift just started and you’re already a sour puss… y.”

Delight gave her colleague a very long unamused stare, until a chilly draft got under her soaked feathers, making her shiver. She hurried to the wing drier, toweling off her head as she went.

It came to her as no surprise when instead of taking her place in the stall, Kick followed her out of the shower area. It was hard to say if that mare was just clingy or if she really looked up to Delight. Either way, Del didn’t really want to have any company at the moment.

“I’ll murder you one day, you know,” she threw over her shoulder, returning to the issue of the worst pun ever. “Pay some junkie to choke you with his filthy cock.”

“Not if you die from my insufferable puns first!” Kick easily shrugged off the not-so-harmless jab and caught up with the older pegasus. “Chin up, Del, things are not as bad as they seem.”

Delight didn’t even bother to answer, just shot Kick a tired glare.

“Oh, I know!” Kick continued. “You do remember it’s Soosa’s birthday today, don’t you?”

Susurration… something. Delight couldn’t even recall her full name; she was a fresh Moth, who had barely started working in ‘Silken Flute’. A pale blue unicorn with a metal shoulder and very soft voice. They were all quiet at first.

“Let's say.”

Delight made a turn into a very small room mostly used for first aid, where a special device was shoved into a corner for lack of any other place in the already cramped brothel. Thankfully, it was unoccupied at the moment.

Kick, due to her small size, managed to snake before Del, her widely beaming face appearing in the doorway. “She brought a cake!”

Pushing Kick out of her way, Del headed straight to the drier, flicked its switch and put her wing between the rapidly heating fans. Using her other wing she continued to wipe her mane, but was stopped by Kick. The unicorn concentrated and used her magic to dry Del’s head – not instantly, but it was still faster than rubbing it with the wet towel. Having nothing better to do, she let her eyes stop on the mare in front of her.

Kicky was delicate and thin, like many unicorns, though it was apparent that she ate much better at the brothel than before she became a Moth. In fact, she was beginning to develop a set of nice curves – she might become very popular in time, despite her back legs starting from the gaskins being bluish metal, matching her coat. The scars on her muzzle from some unfortunate fight could stand in the way of that too, but they were nothing a good portion of make-up couldn’t fix.

In the end there would be no difference – another pretty face to smother with loveless kisses.

The magic aura released Del’s mane, leaving it tangled but no longer damp.

“Thanks,” Delight nodded and then, ignoring her thoughts and remembering Kick’s words, added, “I know at least a dozen places where I can buy a cake. What’s the big deal?”

“You don’t get it.” Kick’s feignedly smiling face filled Del’s view again. “Her cake is the real thing!”

Delight’s brow slowly migrated up her forehead. She walked around the drier and put her other wing into it. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m telling you, go have a piece.” Kick enthusiastically pointed in the direction of the staff room. “Er, just don’t eat the cream on top. I don’t know where she got the milk for it and I’m too afraid to ask, but it tastes really funny.”

Real cake… Del had eaten her share of sweets; she often indulged in that sin, thanks to her pegasus metabolism – she would have to try real hard to become fat. But it was all either synthetic stuff or the stripes’ weird herbal candies. She had never eaten a bona fide pastry.

The thought didn’t sting very much, however. In the city where everything was fake, it made little difference.

“Must be from some goat’s tits.”

“Don’t joke like that.” Kick shuddered in disgust. “Now I feel like I'm gonna throw up.”

Delight critically studied her wings – they weren’t completely dry, but it would do. She looked around, visually sorting through the contents of the room until she found what she needed. Walking to the mirror, she chuckled, “You should work that gag reflex away if you want to be a good Moth.”

Scoffing, Kick threw back at her, “Alright, Del, leave the bad jokes to me and go take a break or I’ll vomit on you.”

The hairbrush on the edge of the sink turned out to belong to Candy, or was just used by her, judging by the clumps of pink hair stuck in it. Delight screwed up her face – it seemed that her damn mane was falling out everywhere. She wouldn’t be surprised if she found some under her tail.

“Fine,” Del snapped.

Though she hated to walk around with her mane resembling a rat’s nest, she had better use her own hairbrush. Checking out the fabled cake didn’t sound so bad either. Maybe she would meet Candy there and tell her to die from drug overdose already and stop leaving parts of her body all around the brothel.

Oblivious to Delight’s mood becoming even more sour, Kick Start bid her farewell. “Good luck. Don’t have too much fun!” Not waiting for a reply, she cantered out of the room.

Del wordlessly shook her head – Kick was a sweet mare, but she should know when to get out of ponies hair… Damn pink hair! There was another strand of it, but stuck to her right wing.

Soosa’s cake became an optional goal. Her primary task for this shift was to cross paths with Candy and give that junkie an earful.

Del nearly stormed out of the little infirmary, vigorously shaking her wings.

The staff room’s location was standard for most of the brothels – in the basement, the stairs leading to it being on the opposite end of the hall to the shower room. Delight hated being underground; that was one of the few downsides of being a pegasus, at least in her mind. The janitor constantly nagging her about the loose feathers all around her room didn’t appear to her as an issue.

As Del headed to the stairwell, she kept her ears perked up – listening for a familiar voice in the ‘working’ rooms. Though she doubted she would hear Candy in any of them – like all pegasi, she preferred the higher floors.

The basement corridor met her with a familiar scent of dampness and mold. The generator room, or whatever it was, hummed, the powerful crystal behind the thick armor-plated door at work. Del never understood why every brothel needed their own source of electricity or why it was locked up like a treasure, but it was none of her business, so she didn’t care.

Another door, made from flimsy dirty plastic, revealed a poorly lit room behind it, reeking of perfume and cheap food overheated in the microwave. There were a few mares inside merrily chatting at one of the tables and a stallion in the opposite corner slouching over a ration, angrily poking it with a broken wooden spoon.

Delight pitied that poor sod. Kizazi was a half-zebra, which made him the perfect fit for a brothel as his father was from the Jangwa tribe, meaning he was bigger than almost any earth pony in every aspect, including the one that mattered most for those who came here. However, having a glyph instead of a cutie mark made Kizazi unable to have citizenship, thus denying him salary and practically chaining him to his place, as there was no other alternative save being an outcast in the Tunnels. The rations provided by the Crown were the only food he knew and basically the only thing he got for his work. Del didn’t know anypony who hated their job more.

The balding pink pegasus was nowhere to be seen, but one of the tables had a half-eaten huge cake. It was better than nothing.

Before taking a piece of it, Delight approached the coffee machine to make herself a cup. As the device wheezed, squeezing the dark liquid out of it with abominable sounds, Kizazi stood up, pushing the table away from himself, and stomped out of the room. Del shook her head. Though it was the end of his shift, he would have to return – not only did he leave his food barely touched, a bulky bag was resting under his chair.

Whatever. It was time to see if that cake was as good as Kick painted it to be.

Del sat near it and pulled a piece to herself. Using a plastic fork she put a bite of cake in her mouth and froze. No synthetic pastry she ever had could come close to the richness of taste she was experiencing. She swallowed the morsel, barely chewing and not heeding the warning given to her about the swirls of yellowish-pink cream sitting on top of her piece.

It was an explosion of sensations. For a moment she was blinded, the world lurching around her as she became weightless. She even lost her hearing for a moment as it was filled with a deafening roar.

When Delight tried to move again, she found herself lying on her side. Strangely, the floor was poky and crunchy as she moved. Speaking of movement, she had trouble with it, her body refused to comply with her orders, as if it was submerged underwater. Water… she could feel wetness – something sticky and warm ran across her forehead, while droplets of cold moisture rained on her from above.

Ever so slowly she began to realize that something wasn’t right. Her vision was blurry, but even taking that into account it was very different from what she expected to see – it was filled with bright colorful spots, as if she was looking out of the window again through tears. She couldn’t hear anything clearly either, save for an incessant deafening ringing, not the same as that of the alarm in her room, but having some shared quality to it; everything else was muffled, but she thought it was screams and not of passion.

Once again, Del tried to get up, and after a couple of failed attempts she managed to raise the upper half of her body from the ground.

Yes, ground. It was no longer the basement floor, she was sure of it. If anything, it felt like she had ended up outside, though she couldn’t remember walking out. What did Soosa put in that cream? Candy’s drugs?

Delight’s senses gradually started to return to her, though only partially – she couldn’t see anything on her left but darkness. The blobs of light gained crispness and turned into neon adverts and… fire. The screams became defined and readily replaced the loud ringing, filling Del’s hearing with cries of pain. She nearly fell back to the ground as she felt pain herself – the left side of her head throbbed with burning agony, and, in addition, she felt like a sack of bricks had fallen on her.

Whipping her head around was a mistake, as she almost fell again. More carefully she began to take in her surroundings and even recognize them…

It was the same street Del was working at, but where she was supposed to be, at the ‘Silken Flute’, were smoldering ruins. The adjacent buildings looked like the Souleater had ripped half of them away, leaving jagged holes and deep tears in the half-fallen walls.

Ever so slowly the thoughts started to click together in Del’s mind.

Destruction, like something had exploded. Explosions came from bombs. Brothels all around the city were being blown up recently. ‘Silken Flute’ had been targeted.

She almost died.

Delight choked, her breath becoming irregular and then she began to hyperventilate. The initial confusion faded away, replaced by dull shock and sharp clarity at the same time.

Ponies’ screams came from all sides, shrill yells of terror and bloodcurdling wails of agony. Neon and fire weren’t the only colors amidst broken concrete and twisted rebar – crimson red painted the soot-covered stone, scarlet viscera hung from blackened metal. Not far from her, a bluish body with warped metal legs lay broken and motionless on a tilted wall, like a sacrifice for some mythic goat god. A torn pipe was spaying the scene of mayhem with muddy water, the colorful signs turning it into a rainbow fountain.

Suddenly, a loud noise, an angry growl cut above all noises, and from the sky they descended.

Despite the searing pain growing stronger with every second, Delight looked up in awe. She had seen the Royal Guard only once in her life and that was a terrifying experience. She respected the city’s most powerful force as much as she disliked the mysterious armor-clad soldiers.

Even now, terror and hope fought each one as one of the figures landed near her.

A strange conical helmet turned directly to Delight; even being featureless it still appeared sinister. She knew that the pony inside was looking at her.

Delight continued to stare at the smooth plate, concealing the face studying her, and tried to guess the intent behind it. Was the Guard here to save her or finish her off? Both options seemed equally possible.

Something exploded nearby in a shower of sparks – another star died out. For a moment that flash turned the Guard’s visor semi-transparent.

Behind it were eyes, the strangest eyes Delight had ever seen. They didn’t belong to a pony, she was sure. Though, right now she wasn’t sure of anything – her left eye still couldn’t see a thing, and the pain she felt was so strong that her remaining vision was darkening.

Del always thought of the ponies behind those armors being heartless beasts, but it didn’t appear to be true. In that short moment of surreal revelation Delight saw something in that inequine face she hadn’t seen in ponies’ expressions for a long time, if ever.

A genuine emotion: compassion.

The pain in Del’s left side grew unbearable and she passed out, falling on the rubble.

The pool of blood gathering under her defaced form reflected the shaky glow of the neon adverts. Amidst the light was a dark figure, its expressionless helmet gazing at the fallen prostitute. Then the Guard silently moved away.

There was nothing the Royal Guard could do for her – they were there to investigate and to eliminate. She might see the dawn, she might not.

The ominous helmet shook almost imperceptibly; either way, she would never learn how much they had in common.

Author's Note

I wrote that story quite a few months ago, right after I returned from a particulary insufferable day at work, a twelve-hour shift full of harassment coming from my superiors. Full of frustration and strangely the desire to create, I gave birth to this little bitter slice of Delight's life.

Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.

If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

Stay awesome.