Author's Note

Hi there; it's me, Fireflower here once more with an electric feel ready with a new chapter of this here story on the way: suffice to say, the future chapters in the second half will be by far a strong note for y'all; this half having already served as a taste of what had came before as I wrote them all right at my fingertips.

As usual, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to --- you know what? Fk it; you've made it this far so there's no use in me repeating what I'd said before in the disclaimers, especially after what y'all just gone and went through.

That being said, I want to say thanks again for putting up with my story since last month so far, especially if you been reading the prequels as well since years ago: I honestly wished that I could've done this sooner, let alone finish it; what's funny is that had I done so in half the allotted time, I would've surprised y'all with another story on the same month, albeit on New Years' Eve but I digress.

Bankrupt

All throughout the way, there was an abysmal unknown of complete blackness where only such factors of sight, substance, and scent lay buried inside those obscurities best referred to as a void. The exceptions that had given clues to the very location’s identity were surface, sensitivity, and sound: such were the gentle breezes being close to comfort anyone that would cross their paths. Most importantly, the current occupancy was above from simple desolate, let alone abandoned; after all, there were a few colors in many caliginous shades and hues giving off their silent cries.

Then, without any kind of warning whatsoever, some buzzing had given birth to the baseless boundaries, resonating about amongst the atmosphere before subsiding almost instantaneously. As if on cue, a small lightbulb had started to appear from above, already providing illumination to the very background in an instant as it’d remained suspended thereupon all the live long day. Everywhere it’d have went, the most predominate color discovered were but fifty shades of gray resting about with no signs of anomalous materials standing out and about for anyone to go see. While there were plenty of sterility to and from, there were plenty of cracks and creases reeking about with more lights now shining about in every range of the spectrum so far in a strict pattern. Some items were already found sharing the same ceiling as the very source of brightness thereof: a small spherical dome embedded on one corner and a monitor hanging from the opposite sides.

Stuck in the middle of it all was a lonely man standing between both a hard wall and glass panel, held in place by a series of jet–black straps altogether. His skin had been tickled pink with some small freckles on the right side of his forehead, already riddled with cuts and bruises having made their ways. Inclined about were three stalks of midnight hair too thin to be seen by the naked eye, eddying up from its shared flat surface amongst the bald space. The lonely man’s attire consisted of a yellow shirt with plum hems and a red downward stripe matching his shoes as well as blue pants with a chain.

“Oh, my aching back…” he’d cried as his eyes slowly opened up, all lids already dipped in violet as both irises were soon revealed to be matching the only hair still attached to the scalp despite everything.

What had started out as a strenuous reflex metamorphosed in a heavy tremor under pressure, born from a small shock as the lonely man had surveyed his sleek surroundings instantaneously: even though he was all by his lonesome, it’d been made apparent that whatever comforts which had remained with him were suddenly quickly undermined by the factors therein so to speak of.

It wasn’t long until his attention was affixed to the screen on the account of it whirring to life, chasing away the stagnant darkness as a wave of static mesh hadst entered his field of vision. Soon enough, it’d plastered with another lonely figure peering out at where the lonely man still resided about; unlike the latter, nothing much could be said about the former due to the shadows. Nevertheless, the corporeal inhabitant could see a patch of pale white amongst the darkness and with a singular brighter eye peering out at the former, electrifying about to little end in sight.

It wasn’t long until the viewer’s face had begun speaking to the man in yellow, “greetings and salutations, Beamer…”

“What the… what the fuck is this: who are you and where am I; when did I get here?!” the titular tenant had blurted out and about in an instant, shaking to and fro but to no avail whatsoever, “did someone put you up to this?! Answer me, dammit…!”

“All will be revealed in due time, little one: besides, my name is not important nor is my identity so to speak of; what is important, however, is the sad drag of a story that happens to be your life, past and present overall, something which many can and will relate to all the same like before…” the man onscreen buzzed about with a faint hum.

This had brought Beamer nothing but contempt as he’d shrieked about in the viewer’s direction, “since when the fuck do you know anything about my life; are you one of the princesses’ spies or something sent to investigate me?!”

“Apparently more than you were willing to remember and let anyone in on, not because we’re investigators or any under either sister’s command…” the blue eyed speaker had answered calmly, much to the chagrin of the man in yellow as far as it could’ve been seen, “besides, your secrets are far too hard to keep when everyone else can see it from so far away from home. In the past two decades of your life so far, you’d eaten the same food, dress the same clothes, and sat in front of the same kind of films: you were just that kind of guy but then one day you’d gone and lost yourself in the chaos; you couldn’t even be original about the route you’d taken but it’s okay all the same because nobody complained about what would happen next since then. Of course, there was still the matter of what you’d said and done nonetheless, especially given your past history of transgressions: lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, sloth, envy, and pride – every sin you had committed ever since your birth was all on file for many to see; of course, there were others that were even worse than the seven such as heresy, violence, deception, and treachery. Although there was a plan for you to abandon your wicked ways, this didn’t come to pass as a result of the war seven years ago: even though there was reason enough that you weren’t from the same plane as the others, your fate would’ve been all the same; of course, in spite of that lone factor, you’d taken every opportunity to continue that path all the way to your imprisonment. Speaking of which, this prison your in is different from all the others you’ve been aware of, even from that of Equestria itself; although it has been designed to hold you in like a common criminal, at the same time it also serves a different purpose too: what you’re standing in is a testing ground for all the games you and your kind get to play in before the others have to. Another factor in regards to your situation were the extenuating circumstances based on the choices you’d made in the process: for all the crimes you’d committed, it’d seem your otherwise shaky bond with your friends was at the risk of being severed at once; acting accordingly, you’d resolved to make certain only you would take responsibility for their actions as well as yours. Even with that noble gesture in mind, none of your friends had remained unscathed by the efforts of both town and country alike: one sent back home to the tender mercies of his forsaking family and the other locked in prison like some commonplace refuse; as bad as the verdict had gone, it’d have seemed had your neighbors failed to intervene at all, then you’d all not be here in the flesh. Nevertheless, everything that had happen is now in the past, not as memories but forces at your back pushing and steering about; you may not like where it’d led you to, but much like any other story, it needs resolution, an epilogue as well as a denouement: of course, in your case, it’s in need of a détournement, especially considering what had been done to you all the very same. As such, you’re to–––”

“I’m sorry but even I think this word salad is faggy; you’re even worse than that little bastard, Iago…!” Beamer barked out with blatant disregard.

The viewer was unnerved by the man in yellow’s interjection, retaining the decency to continue, “quite the contrary, dear Beamer: unlike him, I refuse to let you fall victim to the machinations of those willing to break the bonds of hospitality; after all, it seems to me that even Princess Luna herself has no patience for his kind, especially if they were more older by a sheer decade. Of course, it always goes back to the beginning with you and them alone, an ouroboros in and of itself, if there ever were just one: once upon a time, you and friends had been touched by the generosity of these new arrivals only to exploit them all in little time; as a result of these little mistakes, you’d became their primary targets alone with your other neighbors as alternatives. Despite their mutual antagonism, your friendship held firm and survived for another four years in addition to the preceding decade: even with the combined forces of the sisters and your peers, the bonds shared between yourself and the other two still remained; of course, all that had changed when in a stroke of fate, you three found yourselves at the tender mercies of that fiend Eugene.”

“Eugene… just how much do you know about our lives; who the fuck are you: Agency or Bureau?!” the eponymous occupant interrupted once more, this time being more redder in the face than before as far as he can see, “it’s bad enough that I took the heat for murdering these cunts, now I have to deal with these damn dirty interlopers like you?!”

“That’s just it: despite your confession, you are not the murderer; even with your long history of delinquency in and out of school, your hands haven’t being stained with their blood at all in the very least, a lie you’ve parroted for quite some time…” the blue eyed speaker chuckled, shaking the man in yellow’s rage stone cold dead in its tracks with little warning whatsoever.

This had caused all of Beamer’s hairs to begin standing on endwise including the ones curling above, causing him to gulp as he’d struggled to speak out, “what… you’re kidding, right; you’ve heard the news: ‘Triple Murderer Nearing Termination’, remember…?”

“Except, that’s not what had happened at all: contrary to what even the public had believed, the real killer still remained at large…” the solitary viewer had responded with a faint lisp, leaving the man in yellow enthralled by the former’s introspective, “while many were right to believe one of you was responsible for their death, you’d never used the weapon against them at all. Between the scheming and plotting about, the idea of you taking a life was out of the question in spite of everything happening: after all, you were just merely kids whom had no concept of what it was like to lose a life, let alone watch someone perish; nevertheless, it was only just a mere matter of time before it came to pass, especially as far as your friends were concerned no less. The one thing neither you or Beames had considered was how easy it was for Javelin to take the lives of all three grown women; of course, even a gentlemen such as myself would begin to understand everything led up to this pivotal moment in all your lives: even without concepts like chivalry, they were far too strong to be dissuaded by things such as morality or money either. Such was life in the suburbs of Peachtree Acres, a home sweet home to crimes so heinous, the Crown almost destroyed them all: at the very least, it’d have served as a fitting punishment for all of the travesties in which you and your own neighbors had committed; of course, the quality of mercy itself still prevailed, having saved you from an undeserved fate many wished on you.”

“I see now, you’d worked with one of these princesses as their right–hand man: I see that little miss Kaye has gotten through to either and spurned them into being kind and fair; the real question, however, is why now…?” Beamer had laughed uproariously at first before contorting his face back into that of a scowl like before.

It didn’t take long for the blue eyed speaker to answer calmly, “perhaps, it’d be best if I’d shown you rather than just tell you as it is; after all, time is short and my employers would rather get this experiment up and running as is: it’s imperative that they get you out of your room now since you’ve waited long enough…”

“Like fuck they will: since when was he working for any of the goons, let alone them; what does this have anything to do with me?” the man in yellow ruminated as he’d watched the jet–black straps over him come undone and the glass panel sliding right downward, “what fucking experiment you’re talking about; why me off all people?!”

“Drayer Beamer…!” yet another masculine voice escaped into the sterile room, belonging to neither the viewer onscreen or the aforementioned inhabitant as it’d bore a deeper and firmer tone by sheer comparison alone.

It didn’t take long for the man in yellow to watch the door up in front of him to open up, sliding out of place to the left with a cold hiss as another corporeal figure appeared amidst the smoke. Unlike either individual, this bystander was imposing to a fault, especially considering the attire in question happened to be a beige suit of amalgamated plastics and foams all woven altogether. Despite having a visor directed towards Beamer alone, its wearer’s eyes weren’t even seen at all; nevertheless, the former felt all of his rigidness collapse into trepidation thanks to the sweating.

Despite shaking intensely, the man in yellow retained the strength to reply, “that’s my name… don’t wear it… out…”

“Step outside the room; you’re wanted in the test chamber…” the armored observer had simply commanded, a pair of feet belonging to Beamer alone now being pulled towards the former with little restraint therein, “today’s the big day, Drayer: I hope for your sake that you’re ready; either way, may Providence have mercy on your soul…”

“Excuse me…?” the man in yellow had peeped.

Beamer suddenly felt his left wrist constricted by a wayward hand before being pulled out of the whitish area, confronted by a series of flashing lights in various colors currently shining brightly about against the darkness. Wrapped around the man in yellow’s line of eyesight were images lighting up the walls as they’d slid throughout the constrained surface areas, each of them having varied in sizes, shapes, styles, and substances altogether. Multitudes of tiles were radiating with the same spectrum Beamer had seen earlier, this time into smaller cracks on the account of being more innumerable in size and shape yet most definitely finite all the same no less. Generally speaking, whatever hope for freedom the man in yellow had been yearning for since awakening to clarity seemed further out of his reach as well as the world he’d just found himself inside of not too long ago.

Whatever words Beamer felt like should’ve escape his own mouth had been denied by the curtly quickness of the draw from his nearby accompaniment instantaneously, “don’t at so surprised about it all, Drayer: you’d seen one moving image across the walls, you’ve seen them all; of course, seeing that you’ve yet to see the whole world and the seven seas, perhaps I’m so untrue.”

“Now that I think about it, where are we exactly…?” the man in yellow asked as he’d quickly surveyed the environment the twosome was currently inside of, “this must be something straight out of Lummox’s comic books he’d been reading back then…”

“That’s classified; besides, your friends read one too many of them, especially considering who’s writing them and what income they’ve raked in…” the armored observer had answered gruffly, snapping Beamer right out of his sprouting speculations with but little care overall so to speak of.

It didn’t take much for the man in yellow to refocus his energy right onto one particular image: his face was found to be plastered onto a monochromatic frame with its equilateral lines in range; additionally, the subject in question was in a uniform lacking in variety and divergence at once, “it looks like me… no, it is ME…! I REMEMBER NOW: IT WAS LIKE THREE YEARS AGO I’D ENDED UP IN THESE CLOTHES; I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!!”

“And yet you are not: alive in every sense but sociably, something many of societies’ refuse can relate to; of course, you’re different…” the ethereal voice from before cut in, unnerving Beamer in his very entirety but not the nearby accompaniment as they’d both stopped, “though you were spared from the death penalty, your recent brush with the law had convinced you to stay inside. In any case, perhaps this experiment would pique your interests higher than it is currently, especially considering your tastes; after all, it’d taken us far less time to carefully construct and test it out compared to that failure of a writer still stuck in November: in any case, since we’re about to be reaching the third quarter, it’d be rather best that we show it to you in its entirety…”

“Show me what, the fact that I was supposed to be six feet under; why all this then?!” the man in yellow exclaimed with indignation frothing about.

Nothing could prepare the likes of Beamer with what ended up being revealed to himself from beyond another opening before themselves, this time being more thinner than what he’d been presented with earlier. The moment they’d now entered the new area, the man in yellow was soon being instantaneously bombarded with the sights and sounds of bright lights and big crowds respectively, sharing the very same variations. Similarities between Beamer’s confines and the corridor thereof were far and few in comparison, especially considering how a majority of it all was composed of concrete and steel setting up the borders all throughout. Centered directly into the middle was an open circle with an unfinished bridge to nowhere bolted down from the edge, lying adjacently from a long rope dangling about from high above to parts unknown all the same.

The man in yellow had glanced at the clamorous audience, each member all radiating about with strong emotions as they were restrained by the earthen barriers separating the majority from one; soon, more screens turned on, hanging from the railings beneath the smooth ceiling as the blue eyed speaker had reappeared chirping, “what’s the number one game show in the whole world?!”

“What game show; what the fuck is this mess: what’s with all the people…?” Beamer thought to himself as cheers and jeers escaped into his ears in multitudes of pitches and volumes, “I don’t understand it at all…”

“L’IMPRESARIO…!” the spectators answered uproariously, much to the discomfort of the man in yellow whom had found himself isolated and alone like before, this time with more eyes on him than ever as their noises grew in volume.

Joining the off–key chorus were a series of words accompanied by brass and strings with the resounding snares to boot, starting off bombastic yet ominous:

LOOK INTO THE SINS OF THE YOUR PAST!
LOVE AS IF TODAY WERE YOUR LAST!

“Better times have slipped away, they’re lost beneath the waves…” yet another male voice had spoken up, this time being more somber and pacifistic as the notes sounded off in sync from both keyboards and strings alike instead, “nothing left to save…”

“SAVAGE CRIMES…!” the first ensemble sang in the same composition as previously, all while pictures of coins, candies, and women flashed across the screen, “IT WAS NOT YET THEIR TIME FOR WHOM THE TOWER PEALS ONE FINAL MOURNING CHIME, FOR THE SURVIVORS…!”

“Prisoner #13D108, Drayer Beamer… YEAH, BOY: 17 years old tried as an adult, convicted January 12, 2013 – three counts, murder in the first degree; fleeing the scene of the crime; usage of firearm in commission of felony; violation of Firearms Act ‘65; attempted assault with a deadly weapon…!” even another voice had bellowed from the speakers in a taunting guffaw.

This left the titular onlooker in shock as he’d watched the same portrait from before reappearing onscreen, this time in color given that the very uniform in question was colored in orange for himself to see clearly about more than ever, a contrast to the whitened visage as it was accompanied by a feeble gulp, “shit…!”

“YOU SICK BASTARD…!” another man shrieked at the primordial listener’s ears, preceded by a carton of fluid being chucked at the latter and landing square on the face; despite being blinded, the former was seen to be a bespectacled brunet with brighter skin and bluer eyes having worn a white shirt and some beige khakis, “I HOPE YOU BURN FOR THIS SHIT, FUCKHEAD…!”

“What the fuck is this… milk?!” Beamer spat out as he’d found his face flushed with an opaque liquid brown like chocolate yet rancid with taste and scent alike from what could be experienced firsthand.

The fury emanating from the man in yellow was no better than a firecracker shot underwater as far as the crowds were concerned, still hissing and hollering about as purple haze sprayed onto him without any kind of warning whatsoever, all while the music had abruptly segued into a percussive flourish of triumph.

As Beamer coughed up quite a storm, he was unaware of the reality his very attire was no more: in its place was only a spandex jumpsuit that was predominately silver with some scarlet accents; despite this, his red shoes had remained, much to his confusion and fury as he’d instantly yelled, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLOTHES?!”

“Now, Drayer Beamer could’ve stayed in prison and paid the penalty with his life, like his judge would’ve wanted several years ago…” the raven haired man announced from one of the screens, revealing himself to be the very same one from not too long ago, “of course, the fact that his case went against protocol has revealed to us how easy justice and peace can be sold out for revenge. Even in the fair lands of Equestria itself, its populace wallows in their own folly, forsaking their promises and virtues alike as fabric; thankfully, the Crown still believes that salvation can be achieved, entrusting the power to its Town and Country’s next generation: this world and its people must change its ways for the better no matter what, even if it means making sacrifices. To our knowledge so far, your laundry list of transgressions up until this very pivotal moment has destroyed lives beyond repair: even with your confessions and admissions, your friends and family as well as theirs have been caught in the crossfire altogether; additionally, your neighbors, including the ones you and your friends have been victimized by, risked ostracism in the process. With this and further evidence of unsolved cases exposed to the open world for the rest to see and hear alike, your precious hometown became cut off from not only the rest of New Ponyland itself but all of Equestria too, socially speaking of course, not completely cut off economically since this would’ve had devastating consequences for many innocents in and out of their no less. Of course, it didn’t stop you from being their scapegoat like before, especially considering your reputation as a swindler no less; after all, you were quite the troublemaker in and out of school as far as everyone else was being concerned, especially the faculty: forgery, truancy, shoplifting, soliciting, loitering, menacing, fraud, disturbing the peace and whatnot – need we say more…? Realistically speaking, you would’ve been expelled from all the schools in the entire province before reaching to age eighteen: by then, you’re parents would’ve gone to every single end of the world to ensure you’d get any kind of education like it or not; nevertheless, this prolonged struggle would’ve led to both of their offspring onto a dark path their rearing couldn’t vacate. Knowledge itself still remains in this very day and age to be seen as a power in unto its own and with it comes great responsibility: when used for all that is good and positive within the world, its lifeforms will prosper and prevail with truth and freedom into range; on the other hand, when it’s squandered into nothingness, the world’s brought further closer onto the edges of oblivion. Such is the life and times of nobody else but yourself, Drayer Beamer, having forsaken books for the streets only to be abandoned: ever since that fateful day, you’d found yourself comfortable with the rather imminent fate of the inevitable all the while no less; perhaps, this experiment will give you the opportunity you’d been waiting for the day the court had sentenced you to die…!”

“Just get on with it, will ya; do I look like I have all day?!” the unitard clad man had yelled once more, this time getting even further frustrated.

A series of derisive tongue in cheek clicking about resonated from the blue eyed announcer within seconds, followed by some laughter, “Beamer, I know you’re just dying to get into action and go the way of all flesh but first I’ve got a little surprise for you: we all know you like to talk big but that doesn’t mean you’re a loner so it takes a really big man to admit he needs friends. Unlike this sorry excuse of your province’s court system, we had no intention of breaking up a winning, or losing in your case, team so here they are, ready to go for broke right by your side; ladies and gentlemen, Beamer’s buddies: Mariner Beames and Beam Javelin…!”

It didn’t take long for the eponymous bystander to have his skin become white again, this time to the point of rivaling the texture of snow itself as a pair of men were being lowered down afore him; although they were currently dressed in similar attire, they’d possessed their own fair share of differences in between themselves all the same. One of them was lanky bearing integuments of yellow with freckles just like Beamer, except in a royal purple and an orange range of thin hair contrasted by a thickly jet–black unibrow matching his very shoes; his jumpsuit was a predominately emerald splash with but faint accents of both dark blue moon and star platinum requiem at once. The other half had also donned some yellowish skin but in a lighter shade as a hat was found to be camouflaging the thin strands of obsidian hanging downwardly past the neckline but with two of the white stripes upon each of its sides; like the man in red, the former even possessed a silver chariot scheme but with accents of starry sapphires.

“Guys?!” was all that Beamer could say as he’d watched them both being restrained by the straps they were hanging from, full of life yet filled with fear in an instant; soon, it wasn’t long until several of them slithered onto his body without notice or warning as he’d found himself constricted by them despite his desperate struggles, “you scum–fucking son of a bitch…!”

“Everyone knows how this works: the arena is divided into four sections, each of which with various terrains and environments; once inside, the runners have three hours to go through all of them and they’re gonna need every second because you know who’s on their tail…?” the raven haired man explained it all to those in his radius.

The audience answered deafeningly, “the stalkers…!”

“Exactly and once that happens, anything goes…!” the blue eyed announcer yapped as the man in red had a hook latched onto his back with little warning whatsoever, “without further ado, it’s time to start running…! On your marks… get set…”

“I’m gonna make you pay for all this…!” Beamer bellowed as he’d found himself joining his very peers in midair after being pushed off of the platform.

This was of no consequence to the raven haired man as he’d shouted, “GO… GO… GO…!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” all three men in spandex suddenly soon screamed altogether in perfect harmony as they’d instantly found themselves rapidly descending into the opened void underneath their very feet, “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!”

But nobody came…