Night-Shift
By Duskhoof
Scarlet Billows stood at the top of the bulky Image Imagined Advertising Corp. building, looking down with the wind blowing through her burgundy mane at the swarming San Franciscolt ponies beneath her. From this height, they looked more like a small trickling stream of ants, showing her just how high up she was. Still, as she clung to the only thing keeping her from the long fall, a hideous stone gargoyle. She could hardly care about the height anymore. All she needed was a push.
And then he came.
“Scarlet?” A small male voice behind her. She turned and watched him scuttle up from the door, quickly brushing the long tangling horse hairs out of her tear-stained eyes, her mascara running down her cheeks and her dress disheveled. The bold red lipstick was a contrast to her beautiful yet pale fur, making her look somewhat gothic.
“Bastard.” She muttered harshly, and he froze, whimpering like a bad puppy.
“I didn’t mean to. You weren’t meant to find out like this…”
“You killed her, Riddle!” She was screaming, hysterical, “You cheated on her, then you killed her!” Her voice turned to an unforgiving whisper as new tears trickled, “To be with me.”
“I … I love you… I…” He spluttered, scrambling at her legs.
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” She sobbed and kicked him away. She panted; watching him with disgust then turned and looked down again.
“What are you doing?” he was panicking as he got up in pain, “please… come away from there… Scarlet?” She glanced back, tearful.
“Goodbye, Riddle,” she whispered disgustedly, and with that last farewell, she jumped.
* * * * *
I lifted the paper-and-wax cup of hot, black coffee to my lips with both hooves and took a long sip. I had trotted into the park across the road from my destination and picked a bench with space so that I could relax long before I was needed. They said I’d have access to free hot beverages facilities in the office, but since I didn’t know if I even had the job yet, I wasn’t going to risk upsetting anyone on my first day by being seen to be guzzling up the profits to feed my caffeine needs. It was a dumb thought to have, but I was an overthinker and known for considering what other ponies wouldn’t care a jot about. I put my drink down beside me, took a deep breath and tried to relax, glancing at the clock above the main entrance across the road. Four-thirty. I still had about twenty minutes to get in there, I wasn’t in a hurry. Or at least, that’s what I thought.
When my time to chill came and passed I got up, stretched my light sapphire wings and had a glance at the towering building above me. Even from this angle, it looked impressive, whitewashed walls with the evening sun gleaming on the mirrored windows and the neat silver letters of “Image Imagined Advertising, in Corporation with the Ministry of Image,” emblazoned high up for the world to see. And the world did see because the corporation was growing fast.
This was the main building, situated in the heart of San Franciscolt. The company was well known for its advertising and publishing house, supposedly leading the way in the good fight to get better words and messages out across Equestria. There wasn’t many posters, leaflets or magazines that didn’t have at least one I.I. logo on them nowadays, be it a speech from Princess Luna, a newspaper from the Equestrian Herald or a War Document for the Ministry of Technology. They said that even Rarity Belle came over once in a while to ask for advice.
My nerves were a knot in my gut now. I was impressed that I found this job so soon out of college and was hoping I didn’t blow it, and the fear of what might happen if I did was playing a continuous loop in my mind. I tried my best to push down my anxiety and walked briskly over to the building, dipping quickly into the crowds and flying over and around the school of busy city commuters, then leaping back out again to reach the front doors.
The main lobby was surprisingly monotonous, the walls paneled with dark cocoa wood along with the floors, a few scattered, black, modern leather chairs the only thing to find in the room apart from the reception desk. The room was quiet and almost empty, surprising for a weekday afternoon, especially so close to the end of the working day. Nonetheless, I landed, tucked in my wings and trotted to the desk so that the receptionist on the phone could notice me.
“... No, it looks like April is completely booked too….Yes, May… the twenty-second? Yes, that time is perfect, Miss. Shy… Yes, the ducks will enjoy your visit to the park as well, hehe… We look forward to having you. Thank you… Yes? ...Yes. Goodbye, Miss. Shy!” with the call closed, she looked up to me and gave the warm pearly smile, ‘hello-how-may-I-help-you,’ head tilt routine.
“I’m Qui Vivra Verra, here for the secretary job? I have an interview in fifteen minutes.” She gave a puzzling grin.
“Oh, you finally showed up? You’re late, you know. The interview was this morning.” I blinked, taken aback slightly.
“But I was told to arrive for my interview at four-fifty?”
“And it was,” she replied, “four-fifty AM. This morning.”
“This morning?” I couldn’t believe my tufty indigo ears. She chuckled and nodded.
“But don’t worry, let me just ring up and see if he can still see you.” She went into the back and I was left to sit and dwell on the mistake. She was wearing that same smile when she returned.
“Good news, he’ll see you. But you’ll want to hurry. he- Hey, wait for a second!” I was already going when she came out quickly from her desk and stopped me halfway in between my flap to the elevators, “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Oh… umm, no.” I muttered in embarrassment, and she laughed.
“Thirty-first floor, office Delta.” I nodded, thanked her, and ran into the elevators. I watched the dial count up as the floors passed me, wondering what sort of punishment I’d get for being late.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen... The elevator was taking its time to reach thirty-one.
Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five… The dial froze on twenty-five. I scowled and flicked it, wondering if this was the joy of Image Imagine Advertising’s engineering; great with publications, horrible with technology. The elevator was still rattling up the shaft but the dial stuck on twenty-five no matter what I did.
And then, suddenly, it ground to a halt. The doors opened slowly and I peered out.
The corridor was empty. I checked the dial and cried out angrily. It was working again apparently, but the floor was utterly wrong. Floor forty! The top floor.
“Ponies can make great leaps in the fields of science and technology, but they can’t get an ascenseur to work,” I fumed in my mother tongue, trying again to see if the elevator would take me back down. The button wouldn’t work, no matter how hard I punched it with my hoof. I tried to close the doors, but that wouldn’t work either. It was as if some invisible force was holding it there. Grumbling, I whizzed through the door beside the infernal ride and flew back down via the stairs.
I don’t remember much about my journey to the office except that I dreaded the whole way down there, wondering how I’d be judged for my late appearance. My fears were for naught, as it turned out, as a male pegasus whose colors reminded me of a mountain lion greeted me as I pushed through the door to the thirty-first floor. He’d been staring at the elevator doors and looked confused when he saw me come through the door from the stairs instead.
“Miss. Vivra Verra, isn’t it?” He gave me a rushed hoof-shake, “I like a pony who chooses to tone her wings with a brisk fly up thirty-one floors but really, I have to question why you considered now to be the best time to do so, considering the timing.” I tried to explain that the elevator had developed a fault but he just hurried my along and before I knew it I was being welcomed into the office of the suited pony. He sat me down with no more thoughts from him to my minor plight.
“Miss. Vivra Verra,” he repeated as he was making his way to his seat on the other side of his desk, “that’s Prankish, am I correct? C'est un nom très joli.”
“Oh, merci beaucoup. Tu parles parfaitement Prancais, I am sorry that I-” He cut me off as he anticipated my apologies.
“Don’t worry, easy mistake to make, not many expect to have an interview so early in the morning. Sit down. Are those your documents? Let me see…” I hardly got a word in and blankly passed my papers from my saddle bag to his desk, his hoof dragging them over to be read. He glanced over them as though the words on it were an alien language to him, although I had written them in Equestrian and he’d proved he was already well-versed in my language if I’d made a copy in Prankish. The lid of my resumé’s folder was shut sooner than I expected him to.
“Well, it all looks good, Miss. Vivra Verra-.”
“Just Verra will do,” I suggested to him, earning a hurried nod.
“Of course. Verra, you know this job comes with an apprenticeship, so you’ll be expected to do your share of the work that goes on in Image Imagined Advertising Corp. But don’t worry; the previous staff never struggled with it.” He chuckled and shook his head. “We’re lucky you showed up at all, after the incident.”
“Que voulez-vous dire?” I enquired.
“Oh, you must know of it.” He grinned at me coyly, but his expression changed when mine was blank and unknowing. “You don’t? Oh… I could have kept quiet about- well, you’d have found out sooner or later. There was a suicide here a few weeks back. The mare jumped from the roof. It was all over the papers, and the police were swarming the building for days looking for clues, reasons as to why she did it. There wasn’t even a note.”
I had heard of this, There was no way I couldn’t have; it was on every newspaper everywhere, but I didn’t particularly want to mention it in case it lost me the job. Playing dumb about that one fact might give me an edge over other candidates for the role. I thought it may have been something of a no-go area in the offices. Suddenly another feeling of dread whelmed up in my stomach as I connected the dots.
“Bonnes princesses, was… Was this her job?” He nodded grimly.
“But it was nothing to do with the job, Verra. She was a haunted filly. Didn’t know what to make of her. If she hadn’t died, she’d have been put in an asylum by now.” He sighed, and as if to avoid any more questions he scooped up the documents again and nodded agreeably at them.
“Yes, this is all perfect, Miss. Vivra Verra. You’ve got the job. You begin next week.” I blinked in surprise, flapping over to take my credentials back.
“Just like that?” He laughed as he shook my hoof, a laugh that seemed all too hollow to be real.
“Just like that.”
* * * * *
And that is how it started. I began the next week, and he was right; they didn’t go easy on me. I found out an early morning interview was just the beginning, my hours started at four in the morning and ended at four in the afternoon. I worked like a slave for the next few weeks, in almost backbreaking conditions lifting massive stocks of paper or reels of broadsheet parchment. I did tasks an office worker would not be expected to do because Image Imagined and it’s Ministry partner did not want to trust a lot of ponies all at once. They believed that less was safer, so I was expected to do everything I could to comply with their whim for my paycheck every month, although every few hours I was allowed to take a break.
And then, one day my boss, Mr. Master, came back to me. I hardly ever saw him since the first day, but when he did want to talk to me again it was to offer me a week of night shifts to complete the work I was lagging on. And I took them for the better bag of bits at the end of the month and to relieve myself from the harder labors for one week. Of course, if I’d known what was going to happen, I’d have steered clear of them and lived with the grindstone. No, scratch that. I’d have steered clear of the whole job from day one. I’d have steered clear of the whole building itself.
* * * * *
Monday night, the first night of my shift. I started at eight pm, and by eleven I was desperate for a coffee. I put down the document I was working on, something on a new poster design suggested to the Ministry of Morale to replace the slightly threatening Pinkie Pie ones or something like that, and sat my glasses on the desk, rubbing my already-weary eyes. I should have slept during the day in preparation for the night but with a day free for once, I spent it visiting friends, socializing and living life instead.
I got up out of my chair and was glad for it; my feathered wings had become cramped up and felt like a dead weight on my back when I moved, had to give them both a few good stretches to get the kinks out. I crossed the room into the corridor and used the stairs, avoiding the elevator. I’d used it a couple of times since my interview and didn’t trust it. Once it didn’t work at all, refusing to go up or down, and another time, it worked perfectly. Oddly, my colleagues thought I was being ridiculous as none of them had the same problems. I couldn’t explain it but every time I was in it I felt strange, as though I was being watched, and not just by the security camera. Of course, there was nobody in the elevator beside me, but that strange feeling sent a chill down through my spine and rippled along my tail hairs, so I never forgot it. So I tried to avoid using the elevator with its vendetta against me at any cost.
The closest coffee machine that was still working was on the thirty-ninth floor, the rest were out of action or out of beverages. I shivered as I walked through the dark, chilly corridors. The machine groaned agonizingly as it tried to accept my request. It cranked noisily and eventually spluttered out something that looked more like sewage sludge than black coffee, and I winced while pushing it away.
“Not very appetizing, is it?” The voice, a Southern accent deep and gruff, took me by surprise, and I leaped back against the machine, facing a shadowy figure.
“Who are you?” I said, trying to take the tremble out of my voice unsuccessfully. The shadow stepped forward into the dim light.
“Torn Riddle,” He chuckled and placed his hoof on his chest, “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.” I stared in disbelief.
“The director of Image Imagined?” I asked. He gave a low rumbling chuckle.
“So the plaque on my door tells me.”
Although he was apparently a unicorn from the horn upon his head, his shaggy mane and black fur reminded me of a wolf, well past middle age. His coat and tail had gray patches sinking through the shady colors, and a few weathered areas around his dark eyes. His perfect white shirt wasn’t tucked in and his tie looked more like a crimson noose around his neck. He was grinning.
“But what are you doing here sir?”
“I live in the penthouse upstairs; I just came down to see who was still creeping around the offices at this hour. I’m sorry, I don’t get the chance to learn all of my employee’s names, who are you?”
“Qui Vivra Verra, I’m Mr. Master’s secretary. I’m on an apprenticeship under him too. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he wasn’t royalty, but I curtsied all the same.
“Really?” He looked me up and down, from hooves to wing tips from where he stood. “I’ve been impressed with Master recently. After the saddening events of last month, he’s brought back a positive image to the company with the new focus on the environmental longevity of bulletins on walls and ‘ensuring the message is on point’ policies.”
“I know, I was fascinated too. I wrote up those reports for him, sir, from the research he gave me and my learnings, bien sûr.” He gave me a look of amazement.
“Really? Did you now?” He looked at me again, deeply. It felt like when he looked at me, he was seeing more than just the potential I brought to my job, “Well, I’d like you to come up to my suite with me then, I can give you something much better than that coffee you have there.”
“No, no, I-” I looked at my cup of noir slime and blanched, “I don’t drink anything other than coffee, especially when I am working…”
“Better coffee then, the real stuff, imported from Mexicolt. Come, I’m not the best of sleepers and I could do with hearing about Team Delta’s good work from the inside.”
I stuttered, backing up, but this time he hooked me with a foreleg and pulled me along. Nothing I did would dissuade him from taking me to his penthouse. I couldn’t be sure, but it was as though he was lonely up there by himself. x
A ruby mare, much younger than Mr. Riddle, wandered out from one of the rooms hidden away in the penthouse and gave a weary smile to me. With Riddle so energetically engaged in his speech, I was surprised she’d not heard us sooner.
“Who are you pestering now, Torn?” She said teasingly. Her voice was as sweet and soft as sugar.
“Ah, my dear! This is Qui Vivra Verra,” He said proudly, “She is gonna be big one day, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, you’re sure about that of every worker you meet,” She spoke to me, “especially if they’re young and pretty.” She had me blushing, and that was one more blush than he’d managed to create.
“This old dog had the security guards up here one time, proclaiming that they’d be nuclear scientists!”
“But they knew their stuff, darling!” He said raucously and got up, wrapping his leg around her shoulders and beaming at me.
“This is my soon-to-be wife. She’s a peach, ain’t she?”
“Sure is,” I agreed, humoring his tone.
“Come on Torn, come to bed, I’m sure Qui has better things to do than talk to you.” I took the opportunity to offer some hasty thank-yous, said my goodbyes and rushed back to the elevator.
From the penthouse, the only way down was the elevator or an outside staircase, and I didn’t fancy the staircase over the cityscape. I didn’t fancy the elevator either, but what choice did I have? The doors creaked open, and warily I stepped in, shivering at how cold it felt inside.
“Vous devez vous comporter pour moi cette fois, Monsieur. Ascenseur, sinon je ne serai pas heureux,” I told it importantly as I pressed the button, the doors rumbled close and the elevator jerked down slowly.
I closed my eyes, trying to kick away the feeling that I wasn’t alone and shift my train of thought to work and the revolutionary new materials that we would soon be printing on. Having posters that could last for centuries was a primary goal for the Ministries in particular, so it was a sure thing that they would come into circulation soon.
There was a sudden agonized groan and my eyes shot open just in time, as the elevator unexpectedly stopped, almost throwing me off my hooves. I caught the wall quickly and flapped myself into a corner, stabilizing myself and trying to bring my breathing back to normal.
The elevator dial showed floor thirty-one, so deciding that I must have miscalculated how long it took to come down from the penthouse to my floor, I quietly waited for the doors to open. And waited. And waited.
With a scowl, I punched the button on the elevator panel to open the doors, but they remained closed. I tried again. When nothing happened, I tried the emergency alarm button to call for help. Nothing. Panicking, I began to pound all of the buttons repeatedly, trying every button on the panel, but nothing was working. I was trapped.
I threw myself at the doors and hammered at them, yelling, hoping the security would hear me.
All of a sudden, a sound. My ears pricked. I turned and pulled back into the corner, looking around in fear. Someone was crying, and it sounded like they were right beside me, stuck in the lift with me. It echoed on the mirror-metal and faux-wood walls all around me, surrounded me in my entrapment.
“Hello?” I asked shakily, wide-eyed as I tried to find a source of the bodiless sound. Instantly, the noise stopped, instead replaced with a shallow breathing.
“Hello…?” I braved saying again, gulping. I was frozen to the spot, chills running through me, trying to keep calm. And then came a whisper, a voice in my ear that I hope never to hear again.
“He killed her… he …KILLED… her!” I cried out in fright and ran to the far wall, looking again for the body of the voice and seeing nothing. Immediately the elevator began to echo scraping noises, swaying dangerous and growling. I shut my eyes and screamed, until a final screech silenced everything and I felt legs wrap around me, dragging me.
I felt my back hit a chilled floor, and a light shone down on me.
“You alright Miss?” I was on the office carpet, with a security guard looking down at me with her flashlight beaming on me.
“I… I’m fine… just a bit… ” I gasped, getting up with the guard’s help and straightening myself, wings hugging me like a protective blanket.
“Claustrophobic? Well, sorry about that elevator. It’s needed fixing for a while, not been right since that girl died. But when them tech guys went in the other day, couldn’t find a thing wrong with it…”
I was startled by this, but I said nothing. The guard, who was a pink unicorn with a pale white and pasty cyan mane, helped me into my office and insisted on staying with me for a bit to make sure I was ok. She found me some better coffee from a flask of “the home-made stuff, not the crap they serve here,” and chattered to me for a while, but I said little and listened less.
All I could think about for the remainder of the night was the three words I’d heard in the elevator. He killed her.
Killed… who?
* * * * *
The next night, Mr. Master was waiting in my office for me, leaning on my desk.
“Ah, Verra! Early as always, I see.” I smiled softly to him and tried to hide the little niggling fear in the back of my mind.
“Oui, merci, I was taught by my previous employer that early is always better than late,” He gave a small grin and nodded, slowly stepping away from my desk.
“Trés intelligent, a good way to think. Listen, I know what happened last night. Moxie, our security mare, came and told me all about it. I stayed back tonight to make sure you were okay... Do you need me to stay with you?” I winced and sat down, pushing my saddle bag under the desk with a hind hoof.
“Non, je suis désolé, it just shook me up a little, I’m fine now, won’t be using that elevator again though…”
“Yes, well in that case…” he studied me, but I knew what he was studying. My mental capability. Was I as crazy as his last assistant?
“I’d best be off, Verra… have a good night.” He started for the door when I plucked up the courage to speak the one thing dwelling in my mind; something I was going to regret.
“Mr. Master?” He turned, looking puzzled, “The Mademoiselle before me… What… happened? I mean to say, you said she acted strangely?”
He sighed and stepped back into the office, closing my door carefully before moving up to my desk.
“She wasn’t always that way. When I first gave her the job, she was smart, happy, very much like you. She kept up with the work, had everything finished early and was up for a promotion. Then, four weeks in, she told me she needed to change her hours. She started working nights, and like that…” He clattered his hoof on the desk, “…she just changed. Mumbling, crying, and her work suffered for it. She’d talk to no-one. Then, the night she died, she came in, finished every piece of work she had. Like she knew it was her last chance…”
My body felt numb with shock at his words, my wings had spread out of their own volition. I was wishing I’d not even asked. He gave me a sad look as he finished and mumbled something I didn’t catch with a shake of his head. Before I could excuse him or ask him to repeat it, however, he was saying a quiet goodbye and swiftly leaving me to the silence of the office. I sat, more confused than I had been, and hoping that this night would be better than the last.
For the next few hours, I worked steadily and got through a decent chunk of the stuff I’d neglected the other night. Eventually, I was typing up the last document on the typewriter. I pulled it free and proofread my work to my satisfaction, then hovered myself over the room to my personal magical printing press, supplied by Image Imagine Advertising Corp. It was meant to create copies with one hit of a button and save me hours of rewriting the same documents for board meetings and workshops. I set it up to print before I let it do its thing and watched it with fascination at the power of magic and dull boredom that came with late-night lonely work. The magical device whirred to life just as footsteps sounded in the corridor outside my office, and I looked up expecting Moxie to be checking up on me.
But I was wrong. Instead, Mr. Riddle peered his head around the door and gave me a cheery grin.
“Ah, there’s my wonder mare!” He stated with a chuckle, pushing the door open and letting himself in, “I was speaking to Mr. Master about you earlier; he said I’d find you here. Been thinking about you ever since our little chat.” He shut the door behind himself and shuffled over, perching on my desk. He leaned over to me, “I’ve decided I want to promote you up to my head team, we’ll make sure your apprenticeship keeps going to its completion, but I believe you have potential and I want to be the one to say I helped you to achieve it.”
I must have given him a look of astonishment because at this point Mr. Riddle was laughing jovially. I was astounded; I’d been there no more than a few weeks, and already they wanted to promote me? Why hadn’t Master mentioned this when he was here earlier, was he told not to? This fantastic opportunity was laid out in front of me like a yellow brick road, and yet something was niggling at me. It was like someone was placing their hooves on my shoulders and pulling me back, warning me away from it…
With a gulp, I looked up at him and said I would have to think about it. He merely chortled again and waved his hand to dismiss my words, seeming as if he knew what my eventual decision would be.
“Of course, a smart mare like you doesn’t want to start racing up the ranks too fast… but I think you’ve got it in you to go all the way to the top!” He had a broad, far-too-white toothy grin as he lifted and shook my hoof with force, as though he was already sealing the deal, and then started walking towards the door, saying his goodbyes.
He stopped just as he was reaching for the door handle. Worried that something was wrong, I got up, making my way around the desk.
“Sir?” He turned slowly back to me, unusually gazing at me like I’d said something he didn’t understand.
“Sir, are you…” I didn’t finish my question.
Without warning, the old wolf-like stallion’s mouth was pushed fiercely against mine, forcing my silence as his tongue tried to break past my closed lips. I gave a muffled scream in horror and had to thrust with my wings to push his weight away from me so I did not fall back, alarmed that this was happening. I finally got a good shove in and he stumbled back, nearly tripping over his tail, panting.
“She doesn’t know I’m here, she’s gone out for the night…” he grunted lecherously, becoming a different creature before my eyes to the rich horse with a twinkle in his eye. Now he was a beast, horny and hungry for my flesh. He began to crawl towards me like a predator after its prey, forcing me to trip away from him.
“I think you should leave now, Sir,” I growled, trying to sound more confident than I was, backed into the corner.
“Scarlet, oh Scarlet, I love you! Let me marry you, not her!” I frowned, leaning away as he got closer, closer, too close for comfort.
“I’m… I’m not Scarlet, Mr. Riddle, I don’t even know a Scarlet here…” He grabbed the back of my neck in his leg and gripped it tightly, looking at me with pleading eyes, attempting to squeeze his lips to mine once more.
“I’ll tell her I had a change of heart, Tell her I’ve found someone else, get rid of her, something, anything, to be with you! Say you’ll marry me, Scarlet…”
“I’M NOT SCARLET!” I threw the hardest punch of my life and contacted with his cheek as he leaned to kiss me once more. Riddle fell back in shock, crashing straight onto his back.
He lay there in a daze, not seeming sure what had happened as the last minute was lost on him. Raging, I was in quite the same place, wanting to scream him away but without the voice to do so. He rolled and got up quickly onto his hooves, brushed himself off while looking everywhere but at me. I was scared he was about to come for me again, but instead merely mumbled, “I’m sorry… don’t know what came over me, I’d… I’d better leave.” And was out of the office without another utterance.
Shell-shocked, I stood for a moment. I was dizzy, sickened, wanting to fly away until Luna’s embrace could save me in the night-time sky. Instead, I took a deep breath, shifted myself along the walls to my desk. I slumped into my seat, and let the tears run down my cheeks, terrified.
* * * * *
The next day, I couldn’t sleep. I usually slept for most of the day so that I would be able to get through the night, but every time I tried, I heard crying or had Riddle’s lips pressing on mine, suffocating me.
So I decided to go in to work early. I had made a decision and needed to resolve it sooner rather than later to comfort my distress.
I went straight up the stairs to the thirty-first floor, into Mr. Master’s office and told him everything. The crying, Riddle’s terrible kiss, the lot. And I handed in my resignation, which he stared at blankly as though I’d written nothing on the paper.
When I had finished, he took a deep breath and hung his head.
“A few months ago,” he started, “I wouldn’t have believed a word of this. I’d have accused you of trying to slander Image Imagined Advertising Corp to make a quick bit and would have fired you before you could quit. That’s what I would have done, but… The girl before you, she said the same thing.” Mr. Master moved to the window and looked out at the San Fran skyline, sighing. His posture showed he was troubled.
“I didn’t believe her then, maybe now I do… if I had…”He stopped, looking at a corner as though there was somepony else there with us. Then, “Miss. Vivra Verra, I’m going to close your contract as of the end of this week, we’ll move your apprenticeship to another company...”
“Non, vous ne pouvez pas, but that means…” I started in outrage, trailing off.
“It means you have to finish this week,” he quickly interrupted, “But do not worry, I’m going to stay the rest of the night tonight, and for the next two nights. I‘ll make sure nothing happens. This is the best I can do, Verra.” I gritted my teeth and nodded, close to tears once more.
Mr. Master walked me to my office, even fetched me a better coffee from the shop across the road as I sat and stared vacantly at my typewriter. When he returned, the coffee was placed beside me and he asked if I was going to be alright for a bit as he needed to go into a meeting which would take him away for most of the day, which I replied to by saying I would be fine.
Before he left, he said one more thing to me.
“Don’t try to bring any legal action into this, Verra. Riddle… He would crush anything that went to court with his lawyers; I’ve seen it done in copyright cases, and I wouldn’t want to see you hurt anymore by this…”
I knew he was right, but that only made me even angrier, more grief-stricken. He left, and I sat, mulled once more on the passing events in my office, hoping Friday would come along quicker than it felt.
* * * * *
The next two days went by without disturbance. Mr. Master was as good as his word, staying with me through the night, kept me sane and even gave me a few reasons to laugh. For the first time that week I enjoyed myself. My last day came swiftly, however, and although I almost reconsidered leaving, I knew I could not stay.
That last Friday I was deliberately early so that I could say goodbye to all of the friends I’d made during my stay. I took some time to stand outside and look up at the damned building, remembering my first day. So much hope. Was that how it had been for Scarlet as well when she first came? I tried not to dwell on it and hurried inside quickly as the dark cloud above began to shed its tears down on me.
I got around the ponies in office Delta fast, with the usual promises to stay in touch, and the last farewell hugs. As I finally made my way to my office, I was surprised and a little worried to see Mr. Master making his way towards me, with his trenchcoat on and briefcase in wing as though he was ready to leave. And to my horror, it turned out that was an accurate assumption.
“I cannot stay tonight, Verra. My client for the long-lasting posters has decided to book a meal for us and some other stakeholders at a restaurant, and it would be detrimental to the contract if I were to refuse them. We need this to work more than ever with all the bad press from our rivals. But Ms. Jinx agreed to come in tonight on bonus pay, so you’ll not be alone.” He hugged me tightly, the briefcase clumsily bumping on my hooves as he dropped it, and I heard him sigh sadly, “You’ll be missed around here, Verra.” I knew what he meant and wanted to mean. He would miss me.
* * * * *
The first bad omen came when Ms. Jinx did not keep her promise, and I was left alone in my office, trying to keep my mind away from the fear by working as hard as I could muster. Every creak outside my office would stir my senses, even though I knew it was just the building shifting in its sleep, or the security guard doing their rounds. But worse, much worse, was the silence, waiting for something; waiting for Riddle to crawl in from the darkness, or the bodiless voice to whisper sinister messages in my ear.
I had my last piece of work finished just before midnight. Mr. Master had said that there was very little to be done now so when I was finished, I was allowed to use the rest of the night to try and get some kind of respite, although knowing I was now going to be spending it alone did not give me much hope for that.
I sent the document to my magic printing press, watched it lazily and thought of what I would do when I was out of work. A holiday would be nice, but I needed peace of mind that I wouldn’t be without a job for too long. Reclining in my chair and listening to the printer as it began to whirr, my thoughts once more dwelled on what the girl before me was thinking. My thoughts echoed Mr. Master’s words, ‘the night she died, she came in, finished every piece of work she had. Like she knew it was her last chance.’ For some reason, I was able to giggle at the irony, though I didn’t feel very jovial inside.
Something flickered in front of me. I think I took no notice of it the first time, or I was too scared to acknowledge it. The second time I had caught it in the corner of my eye, so by the third time, I had seen it.
When my last document had been finished, I did not restock my typewriter with more paper, and yet new white parchment had now wound itself silently into the machine and was rippling like a wind was catching it. I could feel no breeze, even when my quaking hoof felt the air near it.
A slam on my door made me scream in terror. I shot up into the air as I watched a long, shimmering scratch rip across the window of my exit from left to right, opening like a scar under the glass. It lasted half a second, then disappeared as fast as a blink. I sucked breath greedily and hoped someone would come to save me, but there was no guard, no Ms. Jinx, no Mr. Master. The rip appeared again, screeching like a banshee, removed just as fast. It happened more than a dozen times, several instants between each. And then with a final flicker, the entire office floor beyond my room became a dark crimson color, everything else lost to it. Curiosity getting the better of me, I peered forward, nose almost pressed to the window in search of clues though my heart threatened to leap from my chest. I’m going crazy, it’s the only explanation, I thought.
I saw my reflection on the rose-tinted glass… and then it wasn’t my reflection anymore. I was staring into tormented blue eyes, wet with anguished tears, gleaming on snow fur…
I screamed out and thrashed my wings to get away to the back of my office, hitting the ground hard and still trying to escape from the vision I had seen. I struggled backward until my back was against the printing press, just as the magical machine above me stopped its job. As though it had been planned to happen, my knock caused the printed documents to slump above me and topple, raining down on my head and splaying across the floor. I cried out again.
My eyes stared disbelievingly at the carpet of parchment around me, knowing this was more than I had sent to print. Shakily, I reached out and picked up one of the pieces, still warm from running through the ink and enchantments. I turned it over to the printed side, and let out a short breath of shock. I fumbled for another and found more startling words, just as I had found on the last piece. Quickly, I grabbed every single sheet in an awkward bundle and lay it on my desk, wiping my eyes of moisture with a quiet nicker of ruefulness before I got to the task of putting the work in order. When I had finished, I sat back in my seat and took a deep, unsettled breath. Then I lifted the first page, beginning to read.
It read like a script. It was like someone had sat down and taken note of every detail, everything everypony had said and compiled it into words, full of the emotions of anger, and love, and sadness. As I kept going I sunk deeply into the story it weaved in front of me like I was a part of the picture and a witness to every moment. And as I read, I understood everything. The crying. The attack. The eyes so lost in pain. I was finally learning the truth, and the truth was terrible…
Her name was Scarlet Billows.
She became a secretary for ‘Image Imagined Advertising Corporation.’ shortly after finishing College, as a way of paying off her education.
She worked as hard as the rest, and was soon being noticed by her employers, and the greater the challenge they gave her, the more she leaped to accept it. She was a mare with great hopes; she was friendly and considerate, hardworking and loyal, and never once complained about the jobs she was given.
Then, on a fateful day, she was introduced to the director of ‘Image Imagined Advertising Corporation,’ Mr. Riddle, on one of his scheduled visits to the office. He was impressed by her, and during their lengthy conversation, the two realized they had a few things in common.
Mr. Riddle began making constant visits to Scarlet’s office and she requested the night shift so that their relationship could blossom and develop without her colleague’s intrusive eyes. They soon became secret lovers, and though Scarlet’s work began to suffer, she was happier than she could have ever imagined.
It was one night a few months later that the relationship turned upside down. Scarlet decided as a surprise to Mr. Riddle, she would visit him instead. She made her way up to the top floor in the elevator, and knocked on the door, waiting for him to answer. At first, when he did not immediately come, she wondered if he had gone out, but at a simple push of the door, it swung open, so he had to be home.
She walked in, almost calling out, when she heard sounds coming from the bedroom, crude groans and repetitive squeaks telling her one thing. She peered around the door, and there he was, with another mare, making love to her in his bed.
Scarlet ran from the apartment in tears, taking shelter in the elevator. She hit the emergency button on its way down and curled up into a corner to let her emotions consume her. She remained there until she was freed, unable to get the images of him cheating on her out of her mind. She did not go back to her office that night but instead wandered the streets before going home.
The next day, she discreetly learned that the other mare was, in fact, his wife-to-be. She felt dirty, she’d never once believed that she was the mare he was cheating with, and she’d always believed they were lovers, soul-mates…
Riddle visited her that night, and she confronted him with everything she’d seen, not believing his lies for a second. She cursed him out of her office as he hurried away, but the next few nights he returned to plead with her. And then he started showing up at her home as well, banging on the door, demanding she loved him again, begging at her hooves. Every time she pushed him away, though every time it grew harder to do so.
Finally, something awful happened. The mare Mr. Riddle was supposed to marry was found dead, a supposed overdose. Everypony said it was a dreadful tragedy to befall Mr. Riddle. They believed something had caused her to commit suicide, and that it was mainly down to a feud with her family for going with a stallion much older than her that had made her do it.
Only Scarlet knew the truth. And she decided that there was only one final course of action. She came to work, spoke to no-pony, and worked through every single piece of work she had, completing it all. Then, after making sure she left it all ready for those that came in the next day, she made her way upstairs in the elevator, muttering to herself with tears falling down her cheeks.
She reached the apartment, but Riddle wasn’t there, so she cut her leg, and with the blood left him a message that she knew would frighten him, before stepping out into the cold midnight air.
Riddle returned to find her standing on the edge of the building. Here, he made his last attempt to plead with her. Maybe he did love her, to commit such an act, but she could not forgive him, not now. There was only one option left to escape the over-zealous lover.
Scarlet jumped, falling all forty stories on to the streets below. Some say if she’d only been lucky, then she could have been saved by the small ledge below, but she was not a lucky mare. She was the messenger to Riddle and the shaker of his world. It was the only way to show everypony the truth of this stallion and all his lies…~
I was on the ledge at the top of the building, and Riddle was stood in front of me with bleak horror awash in his face.
I don’t know how I got there. I had sunk so far into Scarlet’s life, I felt like I had lived it. Now I was living it, her last minute, and I was prepared to make her sacrifice. To once more show the foolish stallion and his conglomerate what happens when you break a mare’s heart.
“Qui Vivra Verra…?” He asked with panic rising in his voice.
“Scarlet…” I snarled back at him, raising my legs to show the same slashes she had made, blood trickling from the gashes. I had done worse to my wings, I had cut them so badly that my back was entirely made of red petals and my flying limbs hung uselessly by my sides, unable to help me when I flew one very last time.
“Who? … Qui, come down… whatever it is, we can talk about-”
“There was a time to talk about this, Mr. Riddle. You missed it.” I hissed coldly and turned.
“Qui, don’t…” I glanced back, tears rising in my eyes. This was for Scarlet.
“Goodbye, Riddle,” I whispered agonizingly, and with that… I jumped.
* * * * *
…I remember the whoosh of air filling my clothing, racing through my mane and pounding at my face. I remember letting out a sigh as I let my body go, ready to move on, ready to release my soul. And I remember the thumping of hooves and the sudden feeling of being yanked from my free fall by an azure glow. With a substantial grasp on my hind legs, my body unexpectedly hit the metal of the lower ledge hard, knocking the wind from my lungs as I hung, no longer plummeting.
I looked up, dazed and weak with squinting eyes at my yelling rescuer as they struggled with my weight. I did not understand the words, or feelings, or the lights. For a moment I wondered why I was alive, why I had not been allowed to fall for Scarlet’s cause…
And then I was pulled over, back onto a safe, firm platform, taking wheezy breaths into my broken chest. My vision began to fade as my body shut down from shock, but when the face of my savior peered over me, I recognized her and it comforted me. Her sky blue eyes told me I was safe now, I was free. Her rose mane flew in the air like a red flag, and she was smiling…
Scarlet was smiling.
* * * * *
Three weeks later, the recruit sat before Mr. Master, shuffling nervously. Time had moved on, but business didn’t sleep, not for any tragedy or any shocking event. If 'Image Imagined Advertising' stopped completely, the work would go to the competitors. The office had been pulling its weight with the missing body in the force, but now they needed somepony to fill the gap Verra left.
“Good. This all seems to be in order, we would very much like to have you onboard,” Task Master said, letting the girl breathe a sigh of relief and thank him before continuing, “But I’m sure you’ve read about the last two ponies that took this job. I want to make sure you know to ask any questions you have but most importantly, I want to make sure you are in good mental health, nothing you’re keeping from me?”
She almost giggled but shook her head, prompting a smile from him.
“Fantastic, well then, you can start next week,” Mr. Master closed her file and returned it to her. He had a good feeling about this one. After all, third time lucky, right? She took it, stared at it for a moment then looked up, resting it on the desk as she moved her hooves away.
“ Mr. Master, Miss. Vivra Verra… I read that she survived, didn’t she? I mean, the other mare died but the last secretary lived, right?” Mr. Master grimaced but had expected this line of questioning. He had almost encouraged it with his earlier question.
“She survived, yes. The security guard had heard her and Mr. Riddle speaking, and caught her just in time as she fell past the lower ledge of floor forty.”
“So she’s ok now?” He shook his head silently.
“Lost the use of both of her wings. She cut them, you see. So deeply that no surgeon could repair them. Her other lesions and the injuries she sustained from the leap will heal in time, but she is getting the psychiatric help she needs fully paid for. Not to pat ourselves on the back in this tragedy, but that is thanks to Image Imagined Advertising’s benevolent contribution to all our employees’ healthcare. It is a good company to work for…”
He could see she had more to say so he stopped, and she carried on, “and the other girl, the one who died, what was her name?”
“Sky Diamond,” He said softly, regrettably, and she shook her head in sadness.
“What causes two successful mares from the same role to act like that?” Mr. Master gave a long sigh and clasped his hooves together before his snout, thinking for some time before he finally answered the complex question.
“We think it was someone in the office spooking them, pretending to be Mr. Riddle. Of course, the real Mr. Riddle lives in the apartment above, he’s a busy man, soon to be married as well. He doesn’t have the time to spook our colleagues.” They laughed gently at that and he stood up, which incited her to do the same. After the release of tension, he did look at her seriously.
“I need you to be honest with me, that if you see anypony claiming to be Mr. Riddle, or even some supposed ghost mare claiming to be his lost lover as Miss. Vivra Verra claimed she saw, you must tell me immediately.” They shook hooves and he showed her to the door, letting her out and watching her go, galloping to catch the elevator that had not once had a strange moment since the recent turn of events. Another pony held it open for her, they shared pleasantries, and the new receptionist had made her first friend before the doors closed.
He was turning back into his office when he noticed that she’d left her file behind. Too late to chase her, he decided to pick it up and keep it for when she returned. Before he placed it in his office safe, he lifted it and gazed at the filly’s name on the front one more time, a frown of recognition falling on his brow.
“Scarlet Billows…? How do I know that name…?”
~Fin~
Author's Note
2nd time posting, as I made the unfortunate mistake of posting the first time around before my friend and proof-reader had finished editing the story.
It's not the best story, but I enjoyed working on it again, ponifying it for a new generation of readers.
Please, feedback is critical, so if you get a second or two to give me some constructive criticism, I'd appreciate it.
Thank you so much for reading, and all good things
Duskhoof
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