Author's Note

It's Fireflower again with the sixth installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic going beyond the typical oneshots I'd made from before and already using canon characters as human beings instead of their normal forms; however, this is nonetheless a Mature fimfic for this chapter here will deal with certain subject matters considered unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated.

In addition, I'd like to take this time to inform you this chapter's also only a nightmare but it can and will bring shock, awe, and outrage out of you in ways too horrible to imagine so it's with a generous heart and mind that yours truly has uploaded another chapter after this as well on the same day no less: for those of you amongst themselves wishing to skip ahead, please do so; I promise, it'll help calm your nerves a bit for the most part.

In any case, the views and opinions expressed by any and all personnel in the story, fictional and otherwise, don't reflect those of the writer in question: as such, the good people of Hasbro and Fimfiction, past and present as well as yours truly don't condone the act of real life hate crimes in any shape of form whatsoever; besides, even Angel Cop sucks balls because the writer, Sho Aikawa sucks balls.

Bonus

There was a complete absence of light currently dominating the very environment, all shrouded in mystery and suspense which had relied consistently on the element of uncertainty at large. While here had already remained a stark likelihood of loneliness filling the oxygen itself at once, the atmosphere was more than enough to clear out within due time for one reason or another. Additionally, even at least a few clues were presently providing some semblance of substance in which was instantaneously dwelling inside even with the lack of a solid terrain, let alone earth.

“Applejack…!” a loud gasp was emitted right from there, creating an anomaly that had given such a darkness one resemblance of life whatsoever: a suddenly new voice being nothing more than ragged panting and wheezing from between intervals; before long, the haphazard breathing had soon quieted itself down into stabilization almost immediately within due time so to speak.

In its very place was the shuffling about in a somewhat reckless abandonment, each and every move making contact with the small dimensional boundaries surrounding the whole time no less. Next were the sounds of kicking about being muffled and muted upon contact all within itself, perhaps every decibel from the very noise pollution greatly reduced almost rather completely. Then, there had appeared to be fabric finding itself; without warning, footfalls had begun tapping onto the floor, its surface being a whole different story compared to all of the walls closing in. All that had remained was a faint snuffle from the occupant, a small snort or two notwithstanding as the oxygen all throughout had instantaneously gotten sucked into its very nostrils only gently. Suddenly, a loud plop made itself known, resounding against the hard floor surface as the silent voice metamorphosed into a scream, ghastly as it were but rather interrupted by choking fluids.

A small diagonal path had made its way through, another joining it to keep the frenzied tenant company: small beams of light peering from the windowsill, a gateway that was high like a kite. Speaking of which, the firmament’s color had also contributed to the very light in and of itself, creating a diminutive glimpse of the external surroundings that were just beyond the four walls. The sun resided in there as well too, only for that source of illumination to become instantly swallowed up by the circumnavigating clouds dispensing the rain with some rumbles of thunder. The scarcity of brightness gave it some bit worthy of color: linings of silver chariot and star platinum requiem banding together to deliver a downpour of achromatic fluids in so many drops. Touching the flooring, it’d revealed its surface to be that of a patch of white tainted by the vocal majority of darkness, its circle bearing a square tile as it glistened and gleamed out of all others. If one were to look inside of the segmented photons rather closely, then it’d become perhaps possible to see magnificent mysteries ready to be solved at once by anyone from all walks of life.

Soon, a shadow appeared form within the jet–black void, obscuring what little light from the outside without even a care in the whole wide world: it’d the shape of feet and its skin possessed the color and texture of the palest goldenrod; slowly, their owner had trudged to it in a moment. A small set of gilded locks had made its way from the very darkness as these tresses reflected the very rays of light that were still peering from the stormclouds which had obscured the skyward treasure from about as they’d reached to the nape of the neck with only a few strands touching it. Turning around to face them already at once had revealed but a pair of emerald orbs circling about the pupils, thin brows instantaneously furrowed into slanted inclines as they were forming that of an edgy and downward concave of confusion and delay all coexisting in a fragile balance. The observer’s face was masculine, possessing a clear complexion that was filled with nothing but wear and tear across the moisten cheeks, a uniform commonality found all throughout the rest of the integumentary system as beads of liquid trailed from the corners without hesitation. Draped over most of the body was a white ensemble of clothing upon him: on one layer was only a thick gown which was so long it’d managed to cover up both arms and reached over past the kneecaps completely; the other outermost layer was a straitjacket holding both arms behind him.

The man had squirmed about towards the light; surrounding it all while he’d looked over with a weary gaze in his emerald eyes. He’d sniffled silently again as they became easily flooded with little warning whatsoever before shutting themselves both away. The man had coughed and choked between intervals before the tears fell onto the floor, staying solely into place suffice to say. Aside from the beams being him natural guide, the warmth also kept the tenant company even though he was seeing darkness.

Just as the man had felt alone in the whole wide world with only his strained breathing, a new sound permeated throughout the dulled atmosphere: the erratic ringing of metal rapidly clanging against another resounded within both eardrums; suddenly, the echo had quickly subsided. As if on cue, he’d turned his green eyes to the partition away from his head as the lights came on instantaneously, revealing the dark secret dimensions of his confines where he looked on ahead at the doorway out of expectation for some other individual to appear afore himself at once. Both of the man’s ears currently had stood on endwise as a small series of footfalls were echoing about, its sound being of softened fabric treading lightly against the hard flooring coming from outside the checkered room that he was already within now, preparing for the lone visitor. Needless to say, he’d remained slouched upon the very flooring underneath himself at once, the only light from the egress becoming instantaneously obscured as the outsider’s footsteps were currently being replaced by the likes of thin metal scraping in a refrained legato of jingles.

Sure enough, the crack in the door had started to grow wide a bit within a second as both of the man’s ears wriggled about, greeted by a curt voice already entering them almost instantaneously, “rise and shine, pardner…”

“Huh…?” he’d groaned, regaining the strength to back away from the very door already at once, “what’s going on…?”

“Oh, it’s nothing t’ worry about really: we’re just going t’ the movies, that’s all…” the visitor croaked a bit gently, stepping in to face the man within only seconds.

At this moment in time, he was now in the presence of another figure, the latter having possessed a shadow that had overtaken the former’s body. The man was able to find that he and the visitor had shared one thing in common: their faces had possessed the same gender upon them thereof. Nevertheless, the two individuals whom were present had many considerable differences that had already separated each other instantaneously.

The figure in question whom had arrived to take sight had stood high and rarefied, the source of the shadow’s dimensions in which the latter was made aware of. Unlike the ginger’s hair which was out and about, the visitor happened to possess no signs of any tresses whatsoever, thanks to a yellow helmet now being worn. Eyes belonging to the lanky individual were being hidden by a pair of jet–black goggles; both its crimson lenses were already focused onto the prostrate occupant. The observant visitor had a much brighter complexion, one that was as rather clear compared to the skies bearing the shine in the storm present and accounted for. Compared to the ginger’s attire, the lanky individual wore a blue shirt underneath a set of brown overalls and boots; also, a pair of orange gloves was found too.

Seeing the lone visitor in question appearing had made the occupant spit out within a mere second, “who are ya?!”

“Mah name is Dr. Ravenholm: Ah am Dr. Mirepoix’s assistant; with yer permission, Ah will just give ya the usual brief overall examination…” the lanky individual introduced himself to the ginger instantaneously, taking out a stethoscope from the right pocket gently, “we must make sure yer quite fit, mustn’t we? Yes indeed, we must.”

“What exactly is it that yer going t’ do…?” the lone occupant shivered as the resonator was sent down his back, courtesy of the titular doctor.

While listening to some subtle respirations, the lanky individual answered the ginger instantly, “oh, it’s quite simple really: we just show ya some films…”

“Films…?” the lone occupant choked out as Ravenholm retracted the tool from the former’s back almost immediately, “you mean like one of those theaters in cities like Ponyville and Appleloosa...?”

“Yes, they’ll be special films, very special and you’ll be having the first session soon enough; ya seem t' be quite a fit young man, a bit undernourished perhaps but that’s the fault of yer diet: after every meal, we shall be giving you a shot in the arm that should help ya stay fit…” the lanky doctor answered as he’d helped the ginger up to his own two feet in the very meantime.

While being guided out from the simple and sterile spot from the stounds, the restrained individual was quick to ask, “like vitamins…?”

“Something like that, just a jab in the arm after every meal; of course, first things first, the film then breakfast, dear Braeburn…” Ravenholm replied as he’d closed the door right behind them, catching the eponymous tenant off–guard with little warning, “Ah am pretty sure that the last thing we need is for ya t' get sick and make a mess of things should we feed ya first instead…”

“Why…?” was all that the ginger could even say.

Before long, Braeburn found himself sat down in a wheelchair by the likes of the doctor whom had said to the former, “let’s just say this is t' help ya get readjusted t' the real world; yer here t' be rehabilitated by a process that the government has paid me and Mirepoix t' develop: should ya succeed, you’ll be most likely t' be released and from the looks of it, ya will. Our tests have shown that ya have a high intelligence quotient: managed t' become a highly famous sharpshooter in the war; have ya ever been interested in joining the Royal Guard prior…?”

“No, not at all…” the highlighted ginger had spoken up, even as he was being strapped tightly amongst the apparatus, “Ah couldn’t stand t' see people getting killed, not anymore…”

“And why is that: young love, high morals, some dark secret you don’t want others t' know about…?” Ravenholm purred graciously.

Braeburn made a break for a response, “what secrets…?”

“Here’s the thing: the whole world has been getting pretty aware of all the smelly perverts and hardened criminals hiding about…” the lanky doctor had instantaneously snarled at the highlighted ginger with so much as little warning whatsoever so to speak of, “ever since the war ended, all that had t' be done was t' find, capture, and punish the troublemakers here and there. We had a meeting up there a few years back: me, Mirepoix, Volks, Dolce, Grey, quite a few others; the consensus was that ya weren’t doing a good thing for the family name, yer town, or even the Crown and Country themselves so they chose me t' come down here and maybe take a little of the shine off of yer pants. We see people like ya week after week, killing off this guy and that guy, capturing that bushwhacker and rustler but all the time, in defiance of yer tastes: you’re as queer as a clockwork orange that’s ever been wound up in all of Equestria so me and my friends, well we’ve figured maybe now’s the time ya land a girl; after all, we know that ya did it for her.”

“Excuse me?!” Braeburn exclaimed instantly.

It didn’t take much for Ravenholm to elaborate, “oh please, we know all about yer precious son, Chargestone, except he’s not yer son; he’s the offspring of many trysts had with his mother, Little Strongheart, something that many like and unlike her know all too well: even yer master and commander Silverstar knows this and he’s too busy letting ya be his little bedwarmer…”

“How much do ya know about her; as a matter of fact, what of mah boy: where is he?!” the highlighted ginger barked at the lanky doctor, the fire within the former becoming stoked, “what the fuck have ya done with mah little Chargestone?!”

“He’s safe, if that’s what you’re implying: a loving couple have agreed t' look after his well–being in the meantime…” Ravenholm had only answered calmly, even as Braeburn was burning brightly before the former’s hidden eyes so to speak, “of course, it’s only temporary if ya do as we say; after all, we can’t have people thinking it’s okay for kids t' be raised in such homes…”

“What are ya talking about…?” the highlighted ginger had snarled, struggling to escape from the wheelchair but to no avail.

The lanky doctor smiled big in defiance, returning to the calm demeanor once embodied not too long ago so to speak of, “it should be obvious: same–sex couples have been nothing more than a drain on society ever since the dawn of time itself, spreading their diseases t' and fro like there’s no tomorrow, something that Princesses know all too well but do little whatsoever about it. Originally, people started complaining about how all the Trowans bringing their gayness all over t' Equestria with them back then: of course, it’d make sense being that the expedition was headed by those faggots, Commander Hurricane and Private Pansy no less; however, we’ve come t' learn that it’s a universal problem affecting all of us and not just in here t' be honest. Apparently, many of past societies that were most unlike them and Equestria had a very good idea on what t' do with the gays: burying, burning, hanging, drowning, stoning, dismembering, electrocuting, strangling, freezing, crushing, shooting, and stabbing; of course, they’d only saved it for adults but not the kids, of course, not that it’d stopped them from even trying nevertheless. That being said, this pathetic obsession with making it too fashionable t' be gay in open society is making a lot of people sick: it’s bad enough that Princess Celestia has done little whatsoever t' solve all the problems from this gender demographic crisis; even now, it seems the only things that have changed were all the outsiders coming t' Equestria all because they can take them in. In any case, it’d make since because of all the women fooling around with each other on the account of outnumbering men; still, the fact that we’ve had t' deal with all these men having sex with other men was rather more disgusting by comparison: ya may have fooled yer relatives into thinking you’re on the straight and narrow but the reality is more complicated t' us. Even though you’d wanted nothing more than t' have a wife of yer own t' carry on the family legacy, ya couldn’t resist it: the only reason ya were left alone was because of yer cousin’s status as the Bearer of Honesty but even that’s not enough; now that yer family has been left in disarray, it’s time for ya t' carry on the namesake as a normal heterosexual Equestrian no less. Perhaps it’s tragic that the apple of your eye, pun intended, has been left t' rot and die thanks t' the crimes of yer peers years ago but Ah am sure with the right cards, you’ll go on back t' normal: at the very least, you’ll have a wife t' carry on the family name and some children t' pass the legacy as well from generation t' generation, just like so many others before people like ya…”

“Why all this then?!” Braeburn interjected, stopping Ravenholm in the tracks but unable to derail the line of thoughts going on the latter’s mind so to speak of, “Ah am not gay and even if Ah was, no one would’ve had a problem with me anyway; Ah like women, it’s just that Ah had a hard time moving on since Strongheart had died. Ah don’t know what my life would’ve been like if Ah hadn’t even met her or got t' know her at all; what Ah do know is that if it hadn’t been for this war, then Ah would’ve liked nothing more than t' be her husband and provider. Growing up on Sweet Apple Acres, Ah couldn’t always escape the shadow of mah own cousin, Big Macintosh: being the strong, silent type meant not getting in touch with his feelings, much less with anyone not like us or in our family; he always did what he had t' do t' keep this family farm and name going, even more so since his parents passed away. Speaking of which, ever since my own dad, Celebrity Timepiece, passed away, Ah always felt pressured t' carry on his legacy: since he was named after one of our vice admirals, mah mother, Wholesome Wave, wanted from me nothing more than mah best; of course, it’d seem that no matter how hard Ah tried, Ah never escaped the high costs of high standards, forcing me t' flee. Ah found mah way over t' Appleloosa, about a decade ago, a small town deep in the middle of Equestria, deeper than Ponyville; contrary t' what many had thought about us, Ah was born and raised in Canterlot, having been t' one of their schools as a teenager: of course, mah mannerism were what had tipped off upperclassmen easily, especially considering Hayseed Turnip Truck. If there was one thing Ah wished t' do with mah life, then it'd be figuring out how t' be keeping up with the housing bills; on the other hand, it was probably for the best Ah left the capital when Ah first gotten the chance, especially knowing what happened: Ah still can’t believe my ears as t' what had been done t' all the folks, including the Princess’ niece Cadance herself. Ah already accepted the fact that with the threat of war on the horizon, we Apples had t' do our part per Equestria’s expectations; however, what Ah couldn’t accept was how our services and contributions were repaid, not by the Princess but by others so t' speak: Granny Smith killed, Applejack raped and beaten, Apple Bloom sold into slavery, and so many others like them. We had nothing but each other due t' our sheer size alone and they were torn apart like they were nothing but tissue paper no less; at the very least, it’d made me open my eyes as t' what had been done t' Little Strongheart and her tribe during the whole war: Chargestone Dreams is nothing more than a product of what his mother in particular had gone through since those days. Ah knew for a fact that her tribe wouldn’t accept him because of what they'd done t' her, especially since she’d died giving birth: the fact all these diseases wreaking havoc upon the body also meant the child wouldn’t live long either, something they knew; nevertheless, Ah swore t' mahself that he was going t' have a normal childhood, no matter what the fuck they'd say or do…!”

“Then, Ah suppose ya don’t mind the shot’s countermeasures: we were really hoping that you’d be cooperative so ya can see him again but Ah guess this was never meant t' be; you’re an embarrassment from a bygone era, our country’s dirty little secret unworthy t' live no less…” the lanky doctor had hissed before going behind the highlighted ginger almost instantaneously.

It didn’t take much for Braeburn to shake to and fro, his flesh resonating against the restraints: afterwards, his vision had became blurry as the minimalistic colors blended in with each other; soon, a sharp nerve was struck deeply into his chest as he’d soon let out a bloodcurdling scream, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Following this were the sounds of silence from had used to be the highlighted ginger himself, alone and abandoned as his head had tilted downward with both eyes devoid of the lusters of life; bulging and spreaded apart, the face was filled with so much curvatures and imprinting, it was as if it’d passed himself by but the technicolors thereof had still remained all the same nevertheless.