The Rake

by Spooky Armalite

Rating: mature
Tags: Prince Blueblood, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Tragedy, Discord, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other
Length: 2581

The cycle of The Rake

The cycle of The Rake.
Sequel to Slender

---- Author's note!----

Written to the awsome tune of Red vs. Blue Dubstep Action Montage 2! Look it up!
Cover art belongs to: Neriak on Deviant Art!

Published 2012-08-20 15:34:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-20 15:34:01 UTC

The Cycle

It was hungry. It was always hungry. Sometimes it was just a little hungry. Sometimes the hunger was so overwhelming, it couldn't stop itself.

Sometimes it would hurt itself. Scars and marks, slices, and cuts crisscrossed its body. Signs of when it had hurt itself to make others pain cease. But it never lasted. In the end, they always hurt as well.

Sometimes it would dream about what it was like to be normal. It would dream a dream without hunger. Then it would awaken. And it would feed once more.

It held hatred. Hatred for itself. But it could never bring itself to do it, to take that final step. To end it. As much as it wanted to rip the iron claw off, it couldn't. They made sure it couldn't. The things that had made it. It had been alive a long, long, time. It had watched the race that had created it, flourish without it. It had watched them fall without it. It had watched a new race rise without it. And now it was flourishing without it. Soon, it would fall without it, and the cycle would repeat.

It was hungry now. It watched the white one. The one with the beautiful hair. So graceful. So serene, calming its mind, and soothing its soul. It didn't want to take her away. It didn't want to hurt her. But it had to. It was hungry. It didn't dare go for the blue one. That one still had traces of him on her.

So, it sat, and it watched, and it waited as she slept in the darkness of the large chamber. The being on the silk clad bed called herself a goddess. But goddesses can't be killed. This one could. It had seen him almost succeed with the other. It was glad he hadn't. It wished they didn't have to go through this. It didn't want to hurt them. It wished they could live without fear. And it wished it could live without pain. Neither would come true. It had killed many, and it would kill many more.

It crawled slowly out of the darkness, and it sat beside her bed, thinking. Thinking of things to be, and things past. Thinking back to her life. It had never focused on this one before, but like it, she had lived a long time. She had always been the bouncy one. The one to look towards the bright sun that it shied away from. She would laugh, and she would play with her sister, and her hair would flow and wave in the wind. That beautiful, elegant hair was splayed over the pillows next to her.

It didn't say anything. It just reached out, and brushed her face ever so slightly with the tip of its iron claw. The cold steel gave a whisper of a kiss as it slid across her fur. Her face twitched slightly in the pale moonlight.

It retracted its iron claw and watched. The night was its friend. They didn't hate it in the night. They feared it in the night, but they didn't hate it. It didn't blame them for hating it in the day. When they saw it, they hated it, and feared it. It wasn't their fault they didn't understand the hunger. It pitied them. They were simply prey for it to hunt.

It slowly crawled to the other side of the bed. It ran its claw through her silky hair. The claw tip left flakes of dried blood, dirt, and grease in the hair. Like smears of corruption in beauty. Because that's what it was. Corruption beside beauty.

It envied her. It envied her beauty. Her acceptance. Her grace. Her innocence. It knew it was a monster. But it couldn't change that. They made sure of that a long time ago. They made sure that it, him, and that other... thing, couldn't change what they were. Not that it mattered. He loved being a monster, and the other thing was just too stupid to know any better. The other thing was hate. The other thing was the living embodiment of hate. It used to slaughter the beings that made it, and when they all died, it killed the new ones too.

It knew it was the runt, the weakling of the trio. They had all been made together, with the sole purpose of bringing death to others. It knew its intelligence was a flaw. A defect. The other two weren't cursed with it. It used to have other siblings, but they all died off in time. They were too reliant on the species before. Technology was their means of killing. And when that died, they did too.

It tried to sigh, but the result was a low whimper mixed with a growl. That was its life. It could never do right. It could only stalk, learn, kill, feast, and repeat. That had been its life for millenniums. It had watched the rise and fall of great beings. It had witnessed the death of one species, to lay the seeds of another. It understood that the predatory struggle was infinite, and all consuming.

But it wasn't a predator. It wasn't hungry. It thought it was hungry. It was just one of the many things they did to him to make him the perfect killing machine. It tried to tell itself that the hunger wasn't real. That it was just their doing. But it all meant nothing, as in the end, it would feast on their flesh, and their meat. It would spill their blood, and it would drink it down and it would be hungry again.

It watched the divine being in front of it, knowing that it would never be a fraction as important, loved, or known as the being in front of it. It took refuge in the thought that maybe one of the beings would understand its hunger. Understand the pain. But it knew it was false hope. They didn't understand.

It was doomed.

Doomed to be forever alone.

Doomed to live with the hunger, and the pain of hearing them scream as their life was transferred from their body, to its.

Doomed to feel those damned, hellish claws rip and slice through flesh and bone.

Doomed to feel the bolts and screws of the claws dig and scrape its own flesh, muscle, and skin.

Doomed to know that it was hated by all that saw it.

It didn't know what it used to be before it was this. Its first memory was The Doctor. The one that would give it the injections. The one that put the claws on. This being was not like The Doctor. It crept back from the bed on all fours, its claws ticking on the tile floor. It crept back into the shadows of the room, back to the window. With a canine leap, it was perched on the windowsill. It turned back and faced the sleeping goddess.

She would be spared another night. It turned back to the open night sky, and fell from the window. Landing with a thud on the cobblestone below. It then darted off into the hedge maze outside the castle.

She was spared again.

It raced through the hedge maze, having memorized every detail in its existence there. The hedges whizzed by as it ran the same layout it always ran. Left, right, straight, right, right, right, straight, right, left, straight, left. It emerged from the hedges, and used its claw to brake itself. It was in front of another house now. The arrogant one. It darted up the wall, using the claw to scale the side, before it found itself in his window.

He was asleep in his bed, even more furnished than the goddess's. Certificates, plaques, and awards decorated his walls. All useless. Pathetic. They meant nothing. What impact did he think he had on the world. It had seen a world fall full of ones like him. He was created by one like him, and now he was dead too. It had killed him. It was one of the few ones it had enjoyed killing. It still remembered how he had screamed. It was like a harmonious melody to its ragged ears.

He snored daintily as it hopped from the window and onto the lavish rug floor. Its claw scratched a path from the window to the bed as it stared at his face. Unlike the last one, it would have no qualms with killing this one. It pushed its face into his. His eyes snapped open in horror. No words were exchanged. It pierced his eyes. His mind. His soul. It kept him from screaming. All he could do was stare in terror. It told him its name. Then, it turned, and scuttled back to the window, before falling out.

Once connection was broken, he screamed a loud girly scream. It hit the cobble stone, and darted into the gardens. These were the gardens it would watch the goddesses play in. She would laugh and sing with the parents. And it would watch with envy as they lived their life in ignorance of it. It envied their ignorance of what their world could have been. It envied their lack of hunger.

It crawled to the place it would sit and watch. Behind a large tree just on the border of the garden. It looked at the mark it had made, many, many years ago. The mark faced the forest, as if to ward away other predators. Three long slash marks, made long ago by its claw. Above it, was his sign. Below both of them, was a large bite mark, the other thing's mark. It had made its mark as a sign that this was its territory. He had did made his to spite it. And the other, just did it because it was just following its brothers.

It had spared her for so long, but her time was drawing near. And when it came, it hoped she would understand. There are those it wishes it didn’t have to take. But the hunger; the hunger drives it. And it was hungry for her. It had been for a long, long time now. The substitutes were starting to work less. None of the others will understand, but if any of them would, it would be her. Her, and the chaotic one.

It slowly made its way from the treeline, and into the sculpture garden. Where the chaotic one was. The chaotic one was the only one that truly understood. It came to a stop in front of him. He was frozen in fear, and would be for the rest of this race's life; which wouldn't be long, they're already half way done.

It stood there with him. Staring at his mismatched stone eyes. They were more alike than he would wish. He was chaotic, but not like it. In the end though, they were both a couple misunderstood creatures of bane. It looked at the pedestal on which he stood on. It extended its claw, and dug three long slashes in it. Its mark.

It could hear guards coming. It scaled his statue, and propelled off his head, over the garden wall, and into the forest.

It sat, hunched over in the forest, its claw idly drawing in the loose soil. The sun was rising, and they hated him in the sun. It leaned forward, and started the run back to Home.

It ran until it found Home. However, home wasn't the right word. Home was where the hearth was. This was more of a nest. A den. A shelter. It called it Home, to give it some normalcy. It pushed past the leaves, and branches and into the cave.

Inside, were many strange items. Pictures of the past beings, and pictures of the new ones. Pictures of animals, and machines. Books about adventure, romance, mystery, and comedy.

Books about fiction, and books about nonfiction. It couldn't read, but sometimes it would like to look at the pictures and make up stories. It didn't like horror stories. They reminded it of itself and its brothers.

There were toys, new and old. Some where from the beings before, and some it had found just years ago. Some made noises and moved, and some stood erect and silent.

It crawled to its dirty bed and curled up under the rank, filthy blanket. It didn't allow its claw into The Bed The Bed was where it could escape its life. And that meant escaping the claw. And so, every night, its right arm lay on the cold stone of the cave, where some nights, the metal of the claw would get so cold it would burn its skin. It would sleep through the day, and awaken to hunt in the night, where it wasn't hated, only feared.

Home was its sanctuary, where it could try to be normal, and where it could try to stave off the hunger. As it drifted away for the day, it thought. It thought about the goddess and her sister. It thought about the arrogant one. It thought about the chaotic one. It thought about him, and it thought about the other. But most of all, it thought about itself. What it was.

It was a machine made to kill. But it had changed itself into something more. It had evolved. Now, it was something greater. It thought about life and death. Pain and comfort. It was the bane of life, and the bringer of death. It felt comfort in the night and in Home, but pain in the day, and outside. While other creatures basked in the day, and slept through the night, it knew the beauty, and the stillness of the night. Its calm demeanor, and its quiet atmosphere. In the daytime, things would see it. They would scream, and they would hate it.

In the night, they slept in ignorance of its presence. It could move about, and sometimes it would pretend it was one of them. Hunched on all fours like them. It would race down the stone streets and it would sit in shops and it would dream. Sometimes it would dream about what it was like to be normal. And then, it would push the window open, and leave. Because it knew it couldn't be normal. But every few nights, it would go back into the city. With its waterfalls, and its high towers, and the regal castle. Sometimes it would wash the claw in the fountains and it would fill with blood and filth. Sometimes it would leave its mark in alleyways like the city inhabitants sometimes did.

Tomorrow night, it would awaken. It would leave Home and it would venture back into the city. There, it would make the decision. Kill her, or not. Push it back farther. Delay the inevitable. If it spared her again, it would find something else to feed on. It would spread its pain somewhere else once more.

For it was all a matter of perspective. It brought unbearable pain upon a being, so that it might be spared from its own. It would spare one being in favor of another, and that being would scream and beg. But in the end, they all faced the pain. In some way or another, nothing is safe from it.

And that,

That is the cycle, of The Rake.