2. Now you see me...View OnlineDouble Double2. Now you see me...This can’t be happening! There’s no way he was seeing this right! His mind must be playing games on him, using his nerves as paddles to bludgeon these bulging ping pongs stupid. Because there was no way he was actually looking down upon himself! He leaned in closer to the window with a nervous quiver, feeling the chills of the glass run down his body in goosebumps. But there it was, there he was, heading down the sidewalk clear as the morning sun. One foot before the other in a carefree pace, his physical appearance complemented with the askew drapes of his clothing. “Wha…wha-I…” He continued his vain attempts to communicate, the voice punishing him with these disgruntled hints of malice each time. But he couldn’t do it, not like this. For he’d never seen someone so scrawny, so meek and insignificant, be so terrifying! The way he shuffled across carried a palpable atmosphere of menace. Each slap of his worn flip flops shooting needles of fear into his nervous system, nearly overdosing on shakes. And that face, his half dimmed eyelids beneath an unfocused brow, he was like a zombie! Oh god, this can’t be real! It was some horror freak show! An invasion of body snatchers! Any moment now, the creature would stop and turn towards him, pointing an accusatory finger. Emitting that earsplitting screech. He could hear it now, the single eerie note of the violin, rising higher and higher in suspense. Scratching his eardrums as he felt them fold. Wait…scratching? He slowly looked up to see that, yes, something was indeed scratching. His horn, which was making jagged marks on the glass as he leaned in closer. It was to that scrapping siren’s call the figure paused and turned his head in a flash of curiosity, locking eyes with his prey. “Gah!” His jaws snapped down on the string, severing his only means of support as he fell backward to the ground with another hard crash. The chitin of his torso sounding a muffled crunch. Mimicked by the blinds as they hastily rushed to their full hang, shutting out the outside world. His body immediately got its stumps underneath itself and skittered over towards the darkest corner of the room. Away from the light…away from prying eyes. His breath continued to run quick. Those sickly waves of paranoia crept up like a centipede. Every tiny leg tingling and warping his spine, forcing his body to curled itself into a misshapen ball of an attempted fetal. Nearly making him puke his guts out all across the floor in a massive spray. The best he could give were these spurts of green goo, seeping out from his fangs and dripping inside of his limbs many holes. Bubbling and swirling with a foul stench. It appeared this acidic shlop contained the last inklings of his sanity, as his body began to twitch and spasm upon their expulsion. His voice cracking from paranoid murmurs to manic cackling. Although with his current tone, the proper description would be maniacal. “O-O-Oh, I think I get it now-yes! I’m starting to see the picture, the full picture…” He slobbered from an ever-moving jaw. Slowly stroking the teal film. “That’s exactly what this is, a picture! An illusion! A lucid dream happening all inside my brain! Yes…yes…I must be dreaming…sleeping soundly, like a baby…hehehehe…” He looked down to his stumps, through the gaping holes. “I must’ve passed out from playing nonstop, and now I’m just sprawled out on the floor. In fact, I bet I still have that stupid headset strapped across my face! Heh heh, how silly of me! Whew! That’s all well and good, but I think it’s time I…unplug for a moment and get back in touch with reality.” He exhaled a sigh of relief with an even more relieved smile. Bringing his front limbs up to eye level. “It’s been fun, you strange alien bug-horse-thing. I’ll be sure to introduce you to my therapist at some point.” As the black cylinders inched closer to his face, he waited for the moment they’d collide with the headset and free him from this weird nightmare of being a weird night mare. He waited… And waited… And waited… Eventually, his arms did contact a surface. Unfortunately, that surface just happened to be his fully open eyeballs. “OWW FUCK!” He shrieked in pain, thrown back into the wall and falling to the floor, writhing with groans and other noises associated with discomfort. Those were solo acts. The duet came in the form of rage, with sheets from the other room yanked off in a furious sweep. “Dude, c’mon! What the hell is going on over there?” The voice shouted, planting his feet to the ground and stomping across the room. He was unable to continue the call and response versing of their brand new song, as he was too busy fonding over his own instruments of movement. Studying them. Eyeing the smooth lines of the curves in contrast to the jagged edges. The strange rips of this tinted seaweed streaming from the top of his head and backside. Touching them. Each flickering of contact bringing up small gasps of slowly fading disbelief. “This isn’t a dream…this is…I am real. I’m this thing. This thing is…me…oh my god.” He muttered with many sniffs, nearly on the verge of tears. Continuing to eye the body-his body-lying on the ground. Any average person would be considered insane if they gazed at themselves this much, attempting to exile any blemishes and stains that would taint their ever-precious egos. But he figured he’d have a pass this time around, given his peculiar circumstances. “I don’t understand, just…why? Why is any of this happening? Why ME?” He pounded the floor with his hooves in anger, snapping the wood into splinters. He whimpered as he tucked them back underneath him. “Oh nononononono! Please don’t break! I already owe more to this place than I’m worth. I can’t pay for any more damages!” He started to panic once more, but cut himself off with a mental slap to the face and a steeled brow. “No, if anyone is going to pay around here…it’ll be him! I must find this bastard and figure out why he’s done this to me, even if I must squeeze it out of him. Then, I’ll get my body back! My life back!” There was a few seconds of silence before he gave a slight cough. “That is, I have to get out of here first.” He shuffled his body around till he got his legs and…his other legs underneath him and attempted to hoist his figure upward with a huff. His footing was shaky, but in the end, he managed to get all four limbs secured in what could be considered a standing position in the middle of the kitchen. The college dorm kitchen. The compact, cramp, condensed college dorm kitchen. And he was now the size roughly similar to a draft horse. And let me tell you, the very last place a draft horse would want to be located is the middle of a compact, cramp, condensed college dorm kitchen. Especially if the draft horse had only a foals knowledge of this strange niche concept of philosophy only studied by few in the ancient tongue of walking. “Ok, let’s see. First, move this leg here, and-ouch!” He extended his left front leg, miscalculating its reach and smacking into the counter with a sharp sting. “Right, too close…just back up a little, and I should be able to-oof!” He reversed his rear until it rammed into the mini-fridge behind him, pinching his tail at the base in an all-new sensation of suffering. He turned around to fix the problem, causing the said tail to swing around. Sliding over the countertop and knocking many cans, boxes, and appliances to the floor. “Are you kidding me? I just bought that toasteeeeeeer-!” His limbs skidded over the newfound debris, making his whole body stumble upwards in an attempt to counterbalance. Stopping abruptly with a loud thunk, and an awful ringing in his head. He looked up to see his ever troublesome horn had firmly jammed itself through the ceiling, surrounded by cracks of plaster. He attempted to move his upper body and pull himself out, yet his front legs squirmed helplessly as they were suspended in the air. So instead, he started to thrust his neck downward as he slowly pulled the massive, jagged nail. He rocketed out of the ceiling, carrying its momentum and crushing his jaw on the floor, nearly impaling himself on his new fangs. He growled in frustration, nursing the throbbing pain in his face, attempting to beat out the searing flames of humiliation. “This is ridiculous! I can walk around just fine on two legs; how can I have this much trouble on four? I literally have twice the support to balance on!” Then again, he didn’t know much about horse’s walking-or should he say trotting-patterns. The most he knew about horse travel came in the form of using the W key to move the animals forward, and it would save you a whole heap of time when going to your following location on the massive map. Nothing more than dopey lines of code, locked into a set of predetermined motions as their owners kicked and yanked them across every escalating terrors of treacherous terrains. Never fed, never washed, never thinking. The only form of freedom coming along in the shape of a precarious rock, sending them flying into the air as their limbs, untamed and wild, rag-dolled over their figure. Those fleeting seconds of free will expanding into forever. Until they connected with the ground, and the master’s code would lull over their consciousness once more. He clamped his eyes and shook his head clear. C’mon, Chris, you gotta focus up and get your head in the game!... Or out of the game…I don’t know! He looked back to the floor as his body laid lifeless amongst the rubble of morning routines and crumbled specks of insulation. Replaying those last moments in his head. Those being every moment since the cut at the sink, but mainly two very standout scenes: The green flame and the return of his voice. When his human body…changed, to put it lightly, he took note of the very surreal manner it occurred. As the fire was raging, not once did it ever damage anything vital to survival. Hell, it wasn’t even hot! Something they’d be greatly disappointed in. All it accomplished was dissolving the thin layer of skin above his skeleton, frying the flesh into tiny green specs of twinkling ash. Tearing from this figure beneath as if it were nothing more than that illusion he described earlier. A great deception of immaculate design, full of perfectly placed imperfections. What we often refer to as a disguise. And when the man across the drywall called to him, he was able to answer in his own words, feeling the exact vibrations rumbling from his neck. Much different from the ones he felt now. He wondered… What is wrong with me? No way I could actually pull off something like that. It’s too simple! There would be some kinda major drawback to that sorta thing. … Unless, maybe it is that easy. I mean, it may not look like my body right now, but it’s still technically mine, right? What if I just try something…to see what happens. BANG BANG BANG “Hey! Hey you! I’m talking to you, asswipe!” He gulped loudly as he turned towards the dorm’s door. I guess now’s a good time as ever to figure out if it really is. He closed his eyes and began to think, envisioning with all of his mighty mind. The lines of his hands, every placement within the forest of follicles, and that unfocused look in his eyes. As the visage began to solidify, it was accompanied by the sparking and pops of an alien set of senses. Whatever this is, it’s gotta work! More booms of what sounded like a dead body being hurled at his door, as the guy was now pounding with both fists. “You say you’re gonna let me sleep, then you start acting like a bull in a china shop! Open up, you motherfucker!” ...I hope. “I know you’re in there…Open. This. DO-“ “Yeah?” He swung the door open, looking down slightly at his sleep-deprived aggressor. Intimidating as ever in sideways flannel shorts and an inside-out t-shirt. “What’s uh…what’s the problem?” “What’s the problem? All your screaming, that’s the problem!” He stepped in closer, the frazzled fury flickering within his bloodshot eyes. “You better have a good reason for all of this bull…shit, what happened in there?” He slurred as he looked over his shoulder, eyes going wide as they rolled around his room. He looked back in a pseudo-curious motion before turning around with a forced oh, that chuckle. “Oh! Heh, Mondays, you know how it is…always so crazy in the morning.” Ending it with a friendly, toothy smile. Now it was his turn to miss his cue, as he stood there stiff, eyes continuing to bulge as he quietly mumbled to himself of the massacre of home furnishings. With each shuddering breath came this…taste was the best way he could describe it. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it billowing in the air with every passing um and ah from the man’s mouth. As it glided over his tastebuds, it gave off the most peculiar feelings. It was cold, disoriented, as no one particular taste could process fully before bouncing around as it tried to escape between his teeth. But he clamped down on it, sucking on its shock…its desperation. Fear. “You feeling alright?” He already knew the answer, given the lack of color, but he decided to ask anyway to give off the appearance of genuine confusion. The man’s face jolted up like he’d been zapped. “What? Oh-uh, it’s fine-I’m fine! Everything’s…fine, it’s just…uh…” He squinted as he looked up at him, head tilting slightly. “Just…the last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn your eyes were blue, not…green.” He suppressed his surprise at the statement, composing himself with a cough. “Oh no, don’t worry about it, they’ve always been a shade of green. The sun has a habit of changing their hue from time to time.” “Apparently it does…to the point where they’re almost…glowing.” Another smile with a laugh. “Well, um…thanks, I guess.” Followed by a few seconds of intense silence a the two stood and stared at each other. He could feel the streaks of sweat going down his back, running underneath the skin. His left leg started to tap rapidly as the bones ached from the pressure stacked atop of them. His body posed on the door. “I think it’s best if you go back to sleep…now.” Somehow, his eyes widened even more, taking on a glassy nature as his entire body relaxed from his prior anger. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right…I just need more sleep…I’ll go do that…” He responded almost robotically. He slowly backed up until he hit the wall behind him. Then looking over to his room, eyes remaining wide. Never blinking. “Sorry for bothering you…goodbye now.” Swiftly walking back to his room in a brisk pace. He watched as the door shut with a scarily heavy slam, followed by the brutal click of the lock. He waited to see if the guy would return. When nothing happened, he slowly closed his own door and put his back to it. Releasing a sigh of relief, seeping out like escaping gas. Causing another spark that flashed the green flame around him, turning back into the horse creature. “I can’t believe that actually worked…” Sputtered through his gasps for air. He slid down the door, immediately regretting it as the wings scrapped the worn surface of the door’s finish. He looked down to notice the clothes he threw on had burned up as well. “Only half worked, then. Good thing those weren’t any of my nice clothes.” He slumped forward, looking over the squalor he created in his thrashing and panicking. Enough, I can’t live like this, I can’t BE this. I need to find this thing now and stop him before he does anything crazy. Before he tries to ruin my life! That alien parasite, who does he think he is? ME? He facepalmed at the thought. Yes, Chris, obviously he does. Much slower now, he stood up and made his way around the dorm. Stumbling and shambling at a geriatric pace, as one would when saddled with newly rusted hooves. He managed to make his way to his bedroom, where he collected a few clothes thrown around the floor, spitting them all into one pile. Airing on the side of caution, he picked out an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Large enough to keep him wholly covered without drawing anyone’s suspicions…and eyesight. “If this thing’s trying to act like me, it must be trying to copy my daily schedule as well…” He thought out loud, sitting back on his haunches. “I don’t have any classes today, thank god, so I usually head up to the dining hall for breakfast. The time matches up as well. I need to tail it and figure out what it’s plan is. Catch him in the act, as they say.” He nodded to himself in approval, inhaling a massive breath of confidence as he straightened tall and proud. “Alright then. I hope you’re ready, you sorry excuse for a double…” In another flash, he rose to his feet with a cocky grin. “…Because here comes a double double! MWHAHAHAHA!” He threw his head back in a spontaneous fit of wicked laughter. As if he was enacting some grandiose plan he laid the groundwork for years in the making. It really didn’t fit him. “-HAHAH-ack! Argh-erm…ahem…wow, that laugh is scary. And grating on my throat…ow.”
3. ...Actually, no, you just see me.View OnlineDouble Double3. ...Actually, no, you just see me.Is this how it feels...living a life on the run, with states worth of sheriffs endlessly tracking your scent? Does it make you feel watched, eyes glued to every corner? Does it make you feel lonely, as the beings around you are nothing more than wisps of a time since discarded? Does it make you feel exiled? Whatever it was, it certainly made him feel like the only man on the planet, let alone the sidewalk. Hoodie pulled tight, sweatpants stuffed deep within his socks as he whittled and waddled his way down to the dining hall. The same path. The same hours. The same…no, this isn’t the same person. Or bug. These serious thoughts on the mind made him sluggish within his skin. Like he was encased in garbage bags on top of the ensemble he had on already. Every couple minutes his eyes would move behind the darkened fog of his hood, contrasting heavily with the bright sun shining down. They saw those who occupied the parking lots and outdoor seating. Much like before, their faces blank with the mark of unwittingness. What if…what if there’s someone here who knows? What if they all know…what if they’re all like him? Walking past the gym, or wellness center as it’s called for delusions of heroism, a group of girls made their way past him to the front entrance. All talking loud about personal affairs, as you usually do with sensitive material. One of the girls, a brunette with a softball body, glanced over her shoulders looking at him with a curious aura. It was probably nothing, just general human movements taking in exterior information, but it was enough to send chills down his body and ring several bells in his head. He tensed up and increased his pace, now speed walking the rest of the way like an antisocial loser. Or you know, like a guy projecting to be himself, when in reality he’s actually a freak of nature who really didn’t want to be found out by anyone who may call the authorities and send him away to some government lab to be sliced and diced in a mad science experiment. But that’s such a mouthful. He pushed through the double doors and passed the staff positioned on some makeshift guard. He guessed they wanted him to be monitoring those walked in, but look on his face clearly stated he wasn’t paid enough to truly care about ID-ing students. As he rounded corners and avoiding any sort of contact, his body came to a sudden stop upon reaching the main room of the building. Tables everywhere, noise everywhere, people everywhere! Bad paranoia! Get out! Hide! Run! No, he must control himself. Just breathe and take a look around. …Aha! I found you, faker! Just as he suspected, he found himself here. Attempting to seclude in one of the many corners of the oddly shaped building. Seriously, who designed this monstrosity? It’s like if someone took all the worst traits of an inside-out chicken coup and kissed it upside the head with an aluminum bat, then sprayed it blue and gold for good measure. … …It was the art department, wasn’t it? Fantastic, just exquisite, now he couldn’t even sit somewhere to properly scope him out. All this stress was starting to make him feel rundown, very out of breath. Wait, he knew this feeling…shit! He was gonna change back, quick! His body went into autopilot, taking the reigns and swiftly walked over the building’s bathrooms. He put his hand on the men’s door, but after giving it some thought, he groaned internally as he went over to the women’s instead. With a steady creak, he opened the door and peered. Empty. Not a sound. Of course it is. It’s single-person use, you idiot. He quickly leapt in the room and shut the door, body easing as he exhaled one massive sigh of relief. He was starting to swim underneath all these clothes…and the second layer. Speaking of which. With one more look to the door for absolute assurance, he hastily stripped off all his clothes and placed them atop the toilet paper dispenser. He then climbed onto the toilet, trying to put his entire body atop the seat. And in a split second, his body changed back to his horse state. Feeling the brisk chills freezing over him in nonexistent goosebumps. “Whew, never knew it was this tiring just being me. I guess that’s why they all left.” Well…except for one in particular. Mother Nature, who was always near. In fact, she was here right now, knocking hard. Impatiently so. He looked down between his legs. Just get it over with. Best not to add any more issues to my plate. He moved his lower body around, positioning his nether regions above the toilet bowl while holding his tail. Inhaling. Releasing. It’ll be over soon, it’ll be over soon, it’ll be-ah! What the…am I leaking? Why is it that color? What the fu-…oh, it’s gone now. I guess I’m done. Ew. After fumbling with the paper in between his hooves and generally being grossed out, nothing should ever come out of you that looked or smelled like that, he started to think about his next move. “Now, if I were me…or me pretending to be me, in this scenario where I’m not actually me but still me knowing I’m me while me doesn’t know that I know that I don’t know I’m me while I’m me, how would I get my attention?” This shouldn't be too hard, think! …Aha! A girl! That usually works for any eighteen year old high on hormones! It would also be beneficial for exiting this bathroom in particular. Probably should’ve given that move some more thought, but whatever. The type of girl was crucial here. …Maybe he should try an ex? No, no, that wouldn't go over well. …No, definitely not his mom. That’d be incredibly weird, but familiarity may work in his favor. Something familiar. Knowledgeable. Fictional. He finally got it, but it didn’t bring any relief, just the red hot burns of embarrassment. Alright, I think I can get this right. I’ve seen enough…erm…fan art at this point, there’s no way I couldn’t. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this. He sat up straight, folding his wings flat to his back and flicked the film from his face. He held his hooves outwards and splayed his legs best as possible to avoid anything getting caught. He closed his eyes and steadied his breath, going though the motions of melting manipulation once more. Just like this morning, the green flame began to smolder across his body, licking his limbs and gnawing at the bones. But this time, the fire tickled him differently in rather important areas, but he’d felt them before in previous circumstances, using very different methods. As expected, the whole process had completed within a matter of seconds and he opened his eyes. Still in the bathroom. No knocking on the door, only sounds of the buzzing fluorescent light and the muffled footsteps of other students shuffling outside. He brought a hand up to his face to find the lines of his fingers sanded out to be a lot smoother, his nails a lot longer. He gave them a flex, to which they responded accordingly. He then moved down to make mental notes on the rest of his body. Her body. “No…way…” He said, catching the sound of his vocals. He got off the toilet and immediately put his clothes back on. Instead of swimming in a sea of sweat, he now felt like he was being smothered in a mountain of blankets. Buried deep within cotton reservoirs and rocky reverse weave. He padded down his clothes and walked over to the sink and looked into the stained and cracked mirror. Staring deeper into her face, blushing slightly. “I look just like her, I sound just like her. A carbon copy…” His spine had compressed by nearly a foot, with the rest of his proportions adjusting to accommodate. His hoodie was now incredibly oversized, hanging way below his waist and devouring his hands. The strings of his sweatpants double-triple-quadruple tied to stay on his feminine hips. The only thing that was different, or rather the same, were his eyes. Instead of the blue he’d gazed into for hours within his headset, the hue of green that’d freaked the guy out earlier remained. A fading gradient of teal-ish top down the glow underneath. But other than that, it was just how he always saw her…how he saw her last night in those final moments. He looked down and cupped the newly mounted features on his chest. Giving them a soft, satisfied squeeze. “Heh, these’ll surely get the attention of my knight in shining armor.” He whispered with a sinister snicker. Before cutting back to reality, his arms immediately pulled away. What am I doing? Stay on task here, don’t get…distracted. He opened the door casually and stepped back out into the main room. Nothing had changed, nor were the masses stopping to turn to him. Everything remained perfectly normal and painfully boring. The relief washed over him now that he could walk around without hiding himself under a hood. Letting him keep the disguise’s hair out of his face. Guess what they say is true: change your hair, change your life. And apparently also your face. And your body. And your gender-you know, if you just change everything about you, he could say without a doubt you'd have a new life. Behold and see! Within the blink of an eye, this man transforms himself from a weird introverted loner to an even weirder quirky girl who’s trying way too hard! Warning: side effects may include rapid deterioration of one’s mental state, which may impact their ability to perform physical tasks. Such as walking, talking, and overall functioning like a normal human being. He should’ve read the fine print, finding himself bobbing and swaying far more than he’d prepared for due to new assets. His face continued to be red as he went into line in the most casual of stumbles. Most people couldn’t care less about his presence, more engaged with the happenings within their own worlds. A few did give looks however, spewing the muted scents of intrigue and curiosity into the air. They weren’t anything too overpowering, however. Allowing him to remain engaged enough to pick up a tray and walk across the many assorted aisles of food, as they wanted this stuff to be called. His eyes would go back to him, this double, still sitting by himself at the table, picking at his eggs. He hasn’t looked at him, not once. Tied to his phone by a pair of headphones. Almost like he was silently screaming LEAVE ME ALONE. I HATE PEOPLE. NOTHING TO SEE HERE. Well, he acted the same way to be fair. Nevertheless, this little front wasn’t going to deter him. Someone had walked up to the food aisle next to him, giving a glance before a full on double take. “Hey, you’re that girl I saw walking past the gym earlier this morning, right?” He turned to see who this perplexed stranger was, seeing the same sporty brunette from before giving him a pleasant look. “Oh, uh-I” He forced a cough to cover up letting his actual voice slip. “Uh, y-yeah that’s me.” “Ah, I guess we actually meet for real this time, huh?” A look of remembrance flashed on her face, trying to remain polite. “Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? My name’s Jane.” Jane’s the name, softball’s your game? “I’m Chriiiiiii-Chrissy! Yeah! My name’s Chrissy.” He said quickly as he put some hair behind his ear. “Chrissy?” She repeated cautiously. Considering he spouted it like he’d never said it before. Which was true. “Yeah, uh…it’s short for…Christine…I think.” He forced a chuckle. “…I’ve had a pretty rough morning.” “Seems like it, you look like you grabbed all your boyfriend’s clothes…” She looked down to his chest with a sympathetic smile. “…And I think you forgot some other essentials, too.” He froze. I forgot about the bra! “I-I did?” She giggled and motioned her thumb. “Just so you know, the coffee machine is over there.” “Oh, yes, thank you. Your help is greatly appreciated.” He finished getting his food and picked up his tray. “I’ll uh…go do that. See you around.” He went to walk over, but she cut him off with her hand. “Wait, why don’t you come sit with us?” He saw the table where her friends and other athletes were eating. “We usually got a few open seats in the morning.” His face went red again. “That’s awfully nice of you, but I think I'll be good today.” Her positivity dimmed slightly, but she kept her smile. “Aww, alright then. It was nice meeting you, Chrissy. Have a good one.” She looked at his face one last time. “I must say, you have really pretty eyes. They’re quite…captivating.” She finished and walked off to the table with her friends. …That went over well, and slightly odd at the same time. He thought, working the machine of beaned amphetamine as he searched for places to sit. In the time he had his conversation with her, it looked like a table across from his target had opened up. He walked over casually, making it appear that it was an in the moment decision. He reached his destination, now still with the tray in his hands as he mugged the double. Standing. Watching. Fuming. He felt this intense rage build up inside of him. One he’d never felt before in his life, just at the mere sight of this thing. Sitting there, eating and drinking as if everything were hunky dory, like it had not a clue about what it’d done to him! It didn’t give a single fuck! He wanted to take his horn and stab the bastard right through the heart! Slow down, control yourself. You can’t break now, not when you’re this close. He pulled the chair with a huff and sat down. Realizing now that he’d accidentally bent the tray inbetween his hands. He really needed to get a hand on that. Or else he was gonna crush the phone in his hand, which he used as makeshift cover so he could spy on the double. Hmm, I wonder if we even have the same apps, the same contacts… Maybe he’d find that out eventually, after a big ol’ serving of scouting, lazily scrambled with a side of bacon. He picked up a piece and ate it. Very tasteless. The screen read around 10:15 in the morning. So far, so good. He managed to tune everything out around him, strangers in the background melting into the untranslatable mush of fluff conversations. It was so surreal, an out-of-body experience like he’d never had before. He wondered if he closed his eyes and gave some serious concentration, he would wake up over there at the table. Only sitting there by himself, and this whole situation would just fade away into his subconscious. But he knew better. Is this really what I look like to others? All alone and awkward...I-I literally just scratched my dick, hand down my pants! Oh no, please don’t sniff, please don’t sniff-you did! Arrgh! How could you be that much of an uncivilized cretin? You low born worthless dribble shat from a whore’s womb-“ Woah, where did that come from? ...Apparently the double wondered as well, as he'd now looked up from his phone. Looking straight at him. He'd also realized he’d been staring at him now for a good long while, face flushed with secondhand embarrassment from seconds prior. Maybe even days, weeks, years at most. He returned his attention back to his tray as he felt strands of sweat run along his mashed muzzle. As time went on, they played a mental tennis match of passed glances and suspicions as they continued to eat their breakfast. It was long and painfully tiring, considering he was doing nothing more than watching, checking phone, then looking off to a wall when noticed. Rinse. Repeat. Rot. Ugh, this is ridiculous! It's like watching paint dry! Even worse is that he didn't have anything to show for his efforts. The guy hadn't done a single thing that could be deemed suspicious, which just made him all the more suspicious from his viewpoint. He was struggling to keep his eyelids open. He felt like he hadn't blinked for around ten minutes at this point, with this whole scenario dragging on for who knows how long. So much for a catch him in the act moment. You! How dare you think you can just sit here eating your breakfast and mind your own business! Don't you know that I think you're an alien parasite coming to destroy me and quite possibly the world at large, and you're spoiling it with your sheer mundanity? C'mon, do something evil! He needed a drink...coffee. He picked up the cup and gave the contents a tiny swirl to see if any steam was present. A speck of a fume swirled in the light. Well, guess it's time to see if this thing is still warm or not. He felt the liquids as they splashed over his tongue, filling his mouth with its dull warmth. But from the back of his throat, he started to feel, to taste, something else. Something that was incredibly sweet, full of sudden sparks of bubbly passion shooting through his body. His hips spasmed at the jolt, his insides going hot from an unknown source. Whatever this was, it was overwhelmingly delicious! It cast a haze of happiness over his brain, taking over his entire thought process for a few seconds before dissipating. He caught his breath as he removed the cup from his lips, now feeling fully awake with his senses rejuvenated greatly. He smiled widely and looked at the label. "Wow, I gotta find whatever this brand is and get some more of it. This is the best thing I've ever tasted!" Heh, what's the secret, they make it with love or something? Suddenly the double collected his stuff and got up to leave, headphones still firmly planted within his ears. He looked down to check his phone. Around 10:50, a little later than when he'd normally leave here, but it was close enough. He decided to sit there for a few more minutes and eat the rest of his food. But he really didn't feel the need to, he was full enough at this point, no need to stuff himself. This stuff tastes...empty? Could he call it that? He felt enough time had past that he could make his leave. As he put his tray next to the others so they could be cleaned, he glanced back to the room. Just to be sure. That's when his eyes caught with Jane, who was looking at him with a smile. She gave him a small parting wave. He copied the gesture and hastily made his way out the doors. That smell...that taste, he could still feel the teensy tiny tingles of them lingering as he followed down the sidewalks once more. Man, what'd they put in that coffee? He felt great! He could even say he was as healthy as a horse, but he'd learned his lesson when it came to using equine analogies. At least this stuff helped with his disguise, he could keep it up without issue now. He examined the state of its condition, twirling some of the hair inbetween his fingers as he watched the strands bend and sway. He could always detect their falsehoods, no matter how minute they were. These nervous little nitpicks never fully escaped his mind, how could they? Everything around him was now up for question. What if he'd always been like this? The real him being that overgrown insect? He did take to this whole disguising thing very quick, too quick for his own comfort. Who’s to say he wasn’t doing that every night when he fell asleep? Go to sleep, become a horse. Wake up, become a human. Funny, saying it like that made it appear as routine as anything else in his life. Did his parents know their son was essentially nothing more than a brain stem sloshing around inside a shapeless blob of matter? What if they didn’t...what if they did? What if...what if...WHAT IF- WHAM! This mental distraction cost him greatly, as he’d found himself slammed against a large, human-like surface and falling to his back. As he rose from the ground, he regained his senses to see he’d hit...oh no. “Ouch...uh, hello...” The entity said, removing one of the earbuds as they turned around. “You alright down there? That looked like it hurt...least it felt like it.” They extended a hand out to him, swinging down like a scythe. It look everything within him not to immediately scream and cower. No no no no, this isn’t right! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down! He’d planned to get their attention eventually today, after giving much consideration to a place where he could confront them alone. This was too early! And now he practically assaulted him, not to mention showing off his incompetence in the process. This was it, he was fucked. Game over, man! Game over! Accepting defeat, he grabbed ahold of his demise’s tendril as it hoisted him to his feet. Looking him down with a cold stare and a slight hint of twisted curiosity. Wait! Maybe he could weasel his way out of this, perhaps it’s using emotions. Quick, be sad, confused! “O-Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry! It didn’t mean to run into you like that! I was looking at my phone, a-and there was this-uh-video! Yeah, a video, and it-“ That seemed to do the trick, as death now held his hands up in a concerned manner. “Woah, woah, chill out! It’s ok, everything’s ok. Accidents happen...” He responded in a calm voice. “I know how it is...Mondays...always so crazy in the morning.” Di..Did he just- “Uh...yeah, you said it, pal! Took the words right...out of...my mouth.” His scrunched his face nervously. Squeezing sympathy. “Say, didn’t I see you back in the dining hall? Could’ve sworn you were talking to one of those girls on the sports teams...” Yes, use their poor imitation of his poor social skills against them! “...Yes, that was me...” Take it even farther, test the water. “I was asking her about the school. I...I just transferred here a few days ago.” “Really?” “Yeah, I just got here from...Alaska. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the greater body of the states.” “Huh, I’ve woulda guessed you were a foreign exchange student, given your accent.” “I have a lot of family out of Canada.” “Right, right. Forgot they’re made of a bunch of cultures and stuff up there.” A rushed and poorly researched response, on par with something he’d say. He was buying it, now if he could just not ask his name- “What’s your name?” -Damn. Well, might as well keep stories aligned, he couldn’t give a new alias for every single person. “My names...Chrissy.” Though that didn’t mean he felt any better saying it. “Chrissy, huh?” He rubbed his chin, the expression on his face being a mixture of sudden realization and humorous surprise. “Well that outta be easy to remember.” Gee, I wonder- “Why’s that?” “Heh, because my name’s Chris.” He seemed to be enjoying himself throughout this conversation. His posture was laid back and his eyes had a non-urgent focus. “Well, uh, if you’re ever needing a hand getting around campus or something, I suppose I could help out. Even though I’m a freshman, this place’s pretty easy to navigate after a while.” Lay the trap. “That would be very helpful. Is there any way we could do it today? I have one class this morning, but I’m completely free afterwards.” He eyes opened wider. “Oh...yeah, s-sure. I don’t have anything to do today, so I should be good for that.” Bring the bait, a little closer...”Well, how about we start with the dorms then? Which one are you staying in?” “The Allison dorms, the older looking building over there by the trees. It ain’t five star luxury, but hey, what can you do?” He shrugged. A little closer... “Oh, how about I meet you there, near the building? That way we’ll both be on the same page when starting off.” “Good idea, why don’t you just come up to my room then? I’m saying in 3-16, it’s got one of those sweet window views. Just knock on the door and I should be there...most of the time.” He gave him a nice smile. “What’d you think, sound good?” “Oh, that sounds...perfect.” Author's Note Hope you all are doing well! I’d like to thank everyone who’s been giving my work a look over the last few weeks. Things have been getting pretty rough when it comes to my daily work load, but seeing you guys enjoying my stuff always puts a smile on my face. Comments and feedback are always appreciated! They help me figure out what works and what doesn’t.
4. Am I Going Up?View OnlineDouble Double4. Am I Going Up?...You’re not insane. Hmph, to think he could’ve been so blind, so unaware of the world that this thing was able to craft a persona right under his nose. Or should he say beside it, as was the building he was currently residing in. Chris could even see his window from his own room, beneath the rubble of the morning’s mess. Using his own hobbies against him? It was a little clever to spy when he was busy tucked away on his computer or submerged within his headset, but that only made the bug horse scenario all the more confusing. Guess that’s the point of villains though, right? Having plans that make complete sense in their heads, but are generally really fucking dumb once you’ve given them some actual thought. But this one, yes this one would work! He was sure of it! To simple to fail, all the right pieces will slide into place, to enter his place and give him back his face! He thought he looked good? What a disgrace! For he wasn’t one easy to replace, to disappear without a trace...but in order to pull it off, he must make haste with rapid pace! He huffed as he walked in the building, slipping through the open doors from another student and calling an elevator. Why do I feel like a song’s bubbling in my throat? In which I exclaim how I shall be forever victorious?...Very weird. Standing and watching as the numbers slowly ticked down above the door, his boxy ticket back to normalcy squeaked to a halt and opened. The occupants filed out, most looking at their phones and not paying him much attention. Not that he cared, but c’mon, this skin should turn some heads at some point. Maybe he needed to tweak the jawline, or how far apart the eyes were. No, he didn’t need to worry about that. It would be gone soon, physically at least. Inside the elevator, clicking his hand on the button, it all seemed to take ages to complete. Eventually the door closed, and he was beginning his short ascent to the double’s dorm. ...You’re not insane. How long had he been standing at the window, waiting? He wasn’t sure. It could’ve been minutes, maybe hours. He probably never even left, passed out on the floor. The elevator shuddered as the ancient pulley system hoisted them upwards. He idly stood in the center, starting at the very stained steel. Black hair wrapped around his fingers. A small light blinked. First floor. He’d combed through one of the schools textbooks in the library for one of his general courses. A section discussing the human body and its many functions. The brain belonged to the nervous system, mainly the central. Along with cranial nerves and the spinal cord. The topic of hallucinations was defined as “perception-like experiences that occur without an external stimulus, that are vivid and clear, with the full force and impact of normal perceptions, not under voluntary control.” Most cases are caused by substance abuse, be it pharmaceutical or recreational, and mental health issues, an example often given being schizophrenia. The most common form cited being audible. His nose scrunched at a whiff of the old carpet in the box. Swaying again as it groaned from the engines and wires. He adjusted his footing, swishing his nonexistent tail as a stabilizer. Another small light blinked. Second floor. Deceit was something completely different, yet familiar at the same time, considering it dealt with the same organ. For something so complex to decipher, it was scarily easy to mold. Feed it enough persistent persuasion, the brain will be fooled into believing anything you tell it. Even if it’d already known the actual truth beforehand. The term coined for this is doublethink. An example would be fake news stories from multiple networks or even the first impressions of a conversation with a complete stranger. However, unlike hallucinations, these inconsistencies were completely voluntary, knowing full well you were lying. And would leave the affected feeling just the same, rather than thinking their loose grip on reality was starting to slip. Slipping. Slipping. Falling. Falling. Gone. The simplest rule was to go by three. Hear it once, most give it a passing thought with little regard. Hear it a second time, it may taken on the notion of a coincidence, gaining their attention more and more as they fall under your spell. But on the third time, it becomes a pattern, taking mass and shape. Breathing oxygen and taking shits. My god, it’s real! It’s here! It’s now! How could we’ve been so blind? The shriek of a screeching halt, followed by hissing and wheezing of great relief. The pulleys stopped and the light blinked once more. Third floor. His head lowered to the ground. Just take a step, the rest will follow. Falling into line, serving their purpose as they took him through the elongated hallways. Dragging a finger across the walls as more numbers flashed. 13...14...15 The finger crossed over the wood of the doorframe, touching the laminated sheet encasing a sheet of construction paper. Chris, it read. He looked up. 3-16. His index finger curled across the others into a ball. The world went black for a moment and his body slumped with an exhale. He brought his hand back in preparation. The thought running through his head one last time. ...You’re not insane. Knock. Knock. Knock. The thumps echoed throughout the hall, mixing with the faint buzzing of the overhead lights. He took a step back from the door, his hands together at his front. Nothing. He blinked and looked down at the cracked and worn graphics on his hoodie. He wiggled his arms inward, squishing his chest. He smirked. A few quick steps, along with the shuffling of some objects could be heard, with “Just a sec...” trying to drown them out. The door swung open with a yank, wafting the odor of chemical lemons into his face, stabbing the inside of his nose repeatedly. The double appeared in the doorframe, wearing a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt, even keeping a pair of socks on. His jawline was clear with a reddish hue, as was the rest of his face. Creating a sort of racoon veneer to his wide and alert eyes. The smell of his charcoal body wash was muffled by another smell, that of curiosity and fulfillment. Of hopes and desires that'd been stewing throughout the day. She came, they said, she actually came. And more of that wonderfully sweet aroma from the dining hall began to seep into the air, breathing it in through the tiny hole he made between his lips. It tickled him pink. "Hey there." He made his voice a nice, calming tone. The double's jaw didn't move, keeping its red hue as his wide eyes moved down his person. "Huge tits-ah, I mean, hi Chris...sy? Nice to see you...again, h-how was class?" He ran a hand through his hair in a relaxed arc. Making his face as cutesy as possible. "Glad it's over, psychology can be such a bore." "Right? There's some many details and terms and shit to remember, it puts me to sleep just thinking about it." Like you're one to forget details...let's see your place. "Hey, um, before we go, do you happen to have a drink or something? I'm a little thirsty." "Oh sure, got a small fridge for that kinda stuff." He motioned with a hand. "Come on in, me casa es tu casa." "Well, muchas gracias." He forced a girly giggle, walking in with his hand on the door handle. The dorm was around the same size as his, with most of the differences due to the shape of building. The Thatcher Hall, the one he was staying in, was newer, only being built a few years ago. The countertops had more scratches and scuffs from previous students, and the wallpaper aged with the grace of spoiled milk. Smelled like it too, if you got close enough. "I welcome thee to the court of Chris, thy newfound subject." He sighed, arms dropping to his side. "Like I said, it ain't luxury." Please, I could show you a real court, with real subjects. Argh, what is that? It happened back at breakfast, too. He needed to stop thinking like that. "So it seems, but you can't really choose those who have it before you." "Yeah...that didn’t make the paperwork any easier." His waved a hand. "...But enough about that, what do want to drink? I’ll get it for you." He turned and walked over to the fridge. "Oh! You have any of that coffee from the dining hall?" He gave him a funny look. "Uuuh...no? I'm not siphoning coffee and storing it like some caffeine crazed doomsday prepper." "Uh, right, I know...just messing around. I'll take a water, if you have it." "A water? I should have one of thoooooose..." He drawled out, sticking his head inside and poking around. Chris silently slid his hand over the lock, turning it with a muffled click. The double piped up again. "So, how's Alaska?" Oh, shoot, quick just make up something. "Oh...um, it's...big. And it's got, like...snow, and mountains. Snow on the mountains...maybe a moose here and there." I don't have time for this...meaningless drivel. "Huh, that’s what I thought it was like. I've wanted to go for a while, just haven't had the money." He shut the fridge with a foot, holding two bottles. "Here, one for you, one for me." "Thank you." He could still feel the aroma lingering around them, making his mouth water. He quickly licks his lips and gave him another cutesy look. "Didn't you say you were a freshman?" He took a few step closer to him. "Yeah." The double uncapped it and took a swig. "Just graduated not too long ago, think it was back in-" "May?" "...Yup, that sounds about right. Pretty good guess, you graduate the same month?" "Mmm hmm." He hummed softly and took another step, keeping close on the wall. He was able to get a glimpse over into the double's bedroom. The very messy, very familiar bedroom. As the flags and assorted memorabilia showed. The taste was getting stronger. "So, how was high school? If you don’t mind me asking.” Putting on a curious tone. "Heh...uh..." Small talk was stumping the double. "I guess it wasn't too bad. I didn't mess with nobody, nobody messed with me, just sorta glided along until I had a piece of paper in my hand. I had a couple buddies here and there, but they all kinda went their own ways. We try to keep in touch, usually through the computer." That last part made his face a bit red. "Y'know, uh, you actually look kinda familiar, now that I think about it. I thought you resembled-" "You're from Texas." He blurted. His body was beginning to fidget from pent up energy...pent up frustration. The last word has splashed a huge wave of that sweet goodness into the air, and he slurped it all down. It was amazing, invigorating, he felt like he could run for miles! Lift mountains! Squash this little shit into pieces! In his moment of excitement, he accidently smushed the bottle in his hand, making it explode all over the floor. The double jumped slightly, and took a step back. "Y-Yeah, I am. How can you tell, is it the accent?" "No...you're not originally from Texas, you're from Louisiana. You only moved there." He dropped the water in his hand and crept forward towards him, continually pointing a finger at him. "You moved there when you were eight, with your mom and your stepdad." He recoiled in shock, nearly falling over. "W-What the-" "While you were there, you found it hard to talk to others. You always felt like an outsider. Until you were eleven, when you met a boy named Roman Welles during basketball practice, he was the only kid in the neighborhood you knew who had the game you wanted and two controllers, so you two stuck by each other, eventually going into middle school...then high school..." "H-H-How do you, h-" "You had to give up the sport sophomore year due to a severely torn ACL, but he helped you recover as you found new interests...delving more into video games, comics, movies, many different forms of entertainment...but he had to go off to another college on a sports scholarship. But you still talk, y'know, through the computer..." He brought the finger to his chin. "Does that sound right?" The double eyes were darting across the room, on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. "How do you know all of this?" "Because I'm everything you are. I know what you've done, because I've done it. I know what you've said, because I've said it. I know what you like, what you hate, what you fear...everything you are as a human being, if you're even that to begin with." He now had him pinned to the wall, choking him with a yank of his shirt collar as he glared up into his eyes. He was literally dripping with fear and confusion...oh, it tasted so raw, so pure! He was ripe for the pickings! He let out a serpent-like hiss, his tongue rattling. "Because for the longest time, I've been you...or rather..." The green flame erupted around him, matching the intensity of his slobbering rage. Savoring every moment as he looked down to the speck caught between his hooves. The unfathomable, unexplainable terror caught within his face, as it would be plastered forever. Their heads nearly connecting as he roared. "YOU'VE BEEN ME!"
5. Am I Going Down?View OnlineDouble Double5. Am I Going Down?Author's Note Apologies for the long wait, work's been piling up as of late. Thanks for sticking with me. 5. Am I Going Down? There are certain moments in life, often cited by those who’ve lived through it themselves, that can be prepared for. Whether it be a math test, having back up files in case the first one fails, or getting ready for a date with that girl you’ve been eyeing for the past few months. Once they’re broken down, you find that the situation that seemed so dire was in reality far less complicated and manageable. The universal power of hindsight on full display, bringing lessons of future follow. He employed this ability more times than he’d like to admit, with a few that will be silenced forever from any conversation. Unfortunately for him, Chris couldn’t recall the last time anyone had mentioned how they handled getting confronted by an otherworldly insect monster drenched with rage, who seconds prior looked like the girl of your dreams, but was now claiming that you’d stole their life. Not once. Not even his weird uncle at thanksgiving. The school certainly didn’t mention anything about it, inbetween the opening seminars of out-of-touch faculty dancing around during orientation. Maybe it was buried somewhere within those packets they handed out. He only skimmed them. Now, about two inches too close for comfort, this new problem-this pissed pickle-snarled and twitched with a deep set hatred never experienced before. The snake-like slits sharpened as he stared between them. Seriously, they were so big he could only focus on one at a time. An unnerving click bubbling from its gnarly, elongated neck as it bared its fangs, a greenish spit falling around them. But somehow, deep down in the depths of his digestive system, something told him she was playing up the feral appearance. He snagged his own twitching facial muscles, choking down a cannonball size gulp as he quickly squeaked out his response. “What?” “Don’t what me, you son of a bitch! Did you really think you could get away with this?” The one previously called Chrissy spat, figuratively and literally, as tiny flecks flew with each enunciation onto his face. It smelled of days old eggs. Tasted it, too. He glanced to the faded periphery at the corners of the black mass before him. From what he could make out, the room was still the way it’d been when he first arrived a few months ago. His mom was the one who pressured him the most on his decision, expressing her own experiences when she was going to school. Often spouting how it was the only enjoyable part of the 90’s. That, and meeting dad of course. That always came second. It’ll be a whole new world, she always said, new things to learn, new people to meet. It’s gonna be so exciting! Though he could tell most of it was her own projection, she’d been correct. This was most definitely new. And very expensive. And terrifying. …Mostly expensive. “Um, well…uh, I really don’t understand what you’re talking about, so why don’t we just take a deep cleansing breath and sort this out civilly?” Her eyes widen in disbelief at his response, but they still carried the same amount of malice. In fact, they seemed to gather even more. They were strikingly expressive when compared to other equines. “Uh…I-I have some apples in the fridge, would you like one of those?” He tried to barter, hiding the underlying panic within his tone. There was, surprisingly, a moment of silence between them, with the only sound being his gasps for breath as the hooves bunched up into his shirt was starting to crush his chest. Her face never moved, but he could tell her brain was working overtime to process his proposition of treats. He was almost tempted to scratch behind her ear. But it was lost, as her brow darkened to an onyx black and let off a furious snort. The grip around him tightened to a suffocating degree before his world became a blur, momentum flung to the left in an instant. Landing hard on the wooden panels, crushing his shoulder and flipping over onto his back. Before he could regain his balance, as well as his bearings, the creature had pounced on him with a holding maneuver. Though, due to her size, and the weird angles she had her limbs placed, the best she could really do was stand above him. It still got the job done, as he nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up at her. Appearing as tall as a skyscraper…or a spider, now trapped within her web. “Like hell you have no clue what’s going on here…” She spoke with a commanding boom, echoing from all around him. The strange clicks now became clearer, more audible into actual speech patterns. Many voices, each one its own different shade of pissed. It was like he was being scolded by every ex he ever had! This is bad! Really bad! They continued to poke and prod in their impromptu interrogation. “Unless…yes, you must have a master of sorts. No way you could’ve accomplished this all by your loathsome.” She gave a self-serving chuckle, as if she put the pieces together to a nonexistent puzzle set. “You must be some kind of pawn, only given a sliver of information to a far greater plan. Made so one hand doesn’t know what the other is doing…merely a drone, you are.” “A drone? Are you being serious?” He probably shouldn’t have said that, especially not with that tone, but her conclusion was downright ridiculous! If anyone here was a drone, it was her! Some creature sent to scout the Earth prior to an invasion, seeing which areas of the land were more susceptible to a blitz-like attack. So why was he was responsible for her fuck up? So what if he enjoyed spilling grub guts in his video games, that didn’t hurt anyone! It’s not a crime! Besides, he never killed anything that looked like her before, what’d she have against him? She lowered her head, letting him hear the slight rasp in her voice. She was enjoying this, toying with her prey. “Now, tell me…what is your mission, why are you here?” Weighing all of his options at that point, and contemplating the entirety of the last 18 years up to that point, he decided to answer as honestly as he could. “Undecided.” He attempted to shrug his shoulders with a nervous smile. A weird grunt came from her, with an even weirder twitch of her lips that left as soon as it came. Did…did she just stile a laugh? “Very…funny…” She leaned in even closer, almost getting nose to nose. “But it won’t get you far. You’re going to talk, even if I must tear it out of you…limb from limb.” She ran her tongue over her fangs, leaving behind a greenish coat of saliva. “Your race was rather idiotic for bestowing me a form capable of such a wide range of…capabilities.” She gave the shredded wings a buzz, trying to impress him. He bet she couldn’t even get 10 seconds worth of airtime out of those things. He sighed, which pulled her from his face slightly. “Listen, bug brain, whatever your world conquering plan is, I’m not the guy you wanna talk to. Go see the President or something. He’s not too hard to find, being held in the White House and all. While you’re at it, can you put somebody competent in charge for once? Be nice for a change…” Anger warped around her again, one of sheer annoyance since she wasn’t getting the answers she wanted out of some random dude. He was quickly hoisted to his feet and thrown against the back wall, knocking the wind out of him with another sharp pain running down his spine. Really the only reminders that all of this nonsense was actually happening. Though who knows at this point? Maybe he was flailing his body around in a crazed episode of an overactive imagination from an overworked brain. He half expected to look over and find Brad Pitt laughing on the dorm’s worn upholstery watching from afar with a pleased smile on his face. Would be nice if he could tag in and get involved here, he looked like he was built for it. Definitely at the time of ’99, maybe even now. She stopped just short of piercing him with her long mangled horn, but pressured the jagged tip directly onto his throat. With every quick gasp of breath digging it deeper, rolling around on his Adam’s apple. “I could say the same thing! What’s so important that you needed to use my face for your operation, huh? Out of all the lives in this world, why’d you ruin MINE?” “I haven’t ruined anyone’s life, apart from my own! Besides, didn’t you just say I was a mindless drone who didn’t know anything?” “Don’t change the subject here!” “I’m not!” “Yes you are! I know you have a plan!” “But I don’t.” “…I know you’re lying.” “Well, I guess we’re right back where we started then.” “You fucker…” She croaked, her voice going low. “…Stop doing that, stop it…now. Stop acting like me.” That last word she spoke using his voice, which was off-putting, to say the least. Another way would be he wanted to scream out in terror if he weren’t at risk of getting choked…or stabbed…or choke-stabbed, or would it be stab-choked? Nah, that sounded wrong. But unlike the voice, the sudden change helped him decipher the emotions better, as his voice was still incredibly enraged, only now there was something on the hitch, a seed that’d been planted. Desperation to cover up doubt. His eyes swiveled around the dorm once more, making another scan of the drab interior. A few stray sports posters lining the walls to the room next to him. His unkempt upkeep being shown by crumbs in the carpets and floor boards, with scuff marks and muddied stains of those before him. But nothing had changed dramatically, say for some objects on the floor and water of the beginning of this…battle? No, that’s too strong a word, if you could really put in that category. This was just awkward. Over to his right, he found himself blinded by the stinging white of sunlight. It was the window, the one with the sweet view as he’d so elegantly put it. The one that showed he was still connected to the greater world whenever he locked himself away in his cave, seeing to himself through various means. Across from him, he could see the fuzzy focus of Thatcher Hall’s 3rd floor, the room across from him had uneven blind, pulled up and bent in some areas. Woah, what happened over there? “What’re you muttering about?” Chrissy gave a rather loud snort, sending an annoyed tone ringing out against the walls. She was tired of him dodging her questions, but how do you answer something when the truth is not accepted? He squinted and tried to look closer at what he was seeing. He thought it was the streaks of sun reflecting off the window’s surface, but upon a longer inspection, he could see those lines had a defined shape with proper curves. It was shattered. As if cut by a knife before being bludgeoned by something heavy, or someone very unstable. There were even a few shards flickering around on the sidewalk below, sparkling around the place where he’d been walking earlier that morning. Come to think of it, he thought he heard a strained squeak of glass as he passed by it, but thought nothing of it and went along with his day, putting in headphones to block out the world. Maybe that’s where she waited to pounce. When he was distracted and alone, so no one else could see the slaughter. Clever girl. Horse. “H-Hey…” She lifted an intrigued eyebrow, never moving her horn. “You said you were over in Thatcher Hall, r-right? Is that at least true?” The brow dropped, but softened a little. “I don’t know what this has to do with you, but yes, I was.” He gave a jittery nod. “Right…yeah…uh, there’s a w-window broken…over there.” He tried to point with his finger, but her glare made him drop it immediately. Was there a connection? Dear god, the fire in those slits, had she done anything to the other students? Had she… “You happen to know anything about that, Chrissy?” Her name rolling off his tongue with a rising contempt. She seemed like the kind that’d go to any length to achieve the desired outcome, no matter who got in the way. Her anger was still present, but now he was starting to shift it elsewhere, breaking the sole concentration. “…Yes, it’s where I’m staying for the semester. In fact, it’s where all this began this morning, when I became this…this…hideous abomination!” The horn at his throat started to shake, and her voice caught itself at the end. She was wavering. “I was perfectly fine, maybe a little dull here and there, but at least I was fucking normal! I had my life, and now it’s all gone! So you better start coughing up some answers, or I’ll skewer you like a goddamn shish kabob!” Nope. That sounded way too rehearsed, way too cheesy for a proper threat. She didn’t have enough conviction in her delivery to match the words. She’d never killed anything. She never could kill anything. His body loosened with an actual smirk appearing on his lips. “Do you even know how to use this thing?” He lifted a finger and gave it a tap. She immediately recoiled on impact, ears flattening and scrunching her muzzle. “Ouch!” She squeaked in a high pitched yelp, swatting at her horn like a dog would its ears. He moved himself away from the wall, grabbing at his neck and gasping for air. “Owowowow…” She continued to mumble with whimpers mixed within. Acting like she’d never ben struck there before…maybe…no, there was no way she was telling the truth. There’s no way she was him, but she definitely wasn’t familiar with that body of hers, her actions didn’t match the menacing exterior. But she tried, collecting herself on skittish hooves on the floor, putting on a mask of rage once more. “Why you’d do that?” “Just making sure, it looks like you superglued a twig to your forehead.” “Geez, this thing is really sensitive…” She groaned, as her eyes flashed a brief glint of poorly hidden fear. Quickly buried again, as she growled at him once more. Though it sounded weak from the scrunched muzzle, more like wounded whinnies. The equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. “Sorry, please don’t make that noise.” He said with a cringe. “It feels like you just punched me in the face, you fuck! It hurts!” “It was self-defense, you were about to attack me!” “Me? You did it first!” “Nuh uh.” “Yeah huh! You took my fucking body!” “Again with this, I haven’t taken anything, I’ve always had this!” “Stop lying to me, I know you’re an alien!” “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” She hissed loudly and lunged at him. he managed to side step as she fell on the ground. He scurried towards the door. Wrapping his hand around the handle and tried to rip it off the hinges. Instead, he slammed against the barricade with a painful grunt. He looked down. Dammit, she locked it! He desperately reached for the bolt, missing it a few times in his panic. He got a hold of it, just in time to hear a yell and the sound of whooshing air. He turned in time to avoid a flying chair splintering on the door, causing it to buckle and snap. Stuck. “What is wrong with you?” He shouted. “You’re not getting away that easy!” “Well neither are you, now that you’ve broken the door. Nice going, psycho.” She only glared at him in response. “Look, this is getting more ridiculous by the second. Can you just admit you’ve got the wrong guy and we’ll both be on our way?” “I’ll never concede!” She grabbed a cheap, plastic lamp on a stand between her front hooves and threw it at him. He ducked behind the couch, hearing the long hours of frustrating assembly shatter on the wall. If this really was going to be self-defense, he decided it was high time to return fire, it was best to try and tire her out so he could make a proper move to escape. It was obvious that she didn’t know how to use the horn, otherwise she would’ve done something to him with it. Maybe put him to sleep, turn his guts inside out, or maybe…turn him into one of them. Ugh, creepy. With all those holes and weird translucent innards, seeing her heart beat deep within her chest. Though, it looked kinda cool from certain angles. The only ammunition he had at his disposal were a bunch of throw pillows. Well, he thought, balling one in his hands, time to fulfill your purpose! For the next few minutes, the two would launch varied trebuchets at each in an attempt to make a great impact to their opponent, running around each other while throwing objects. Plates whizzed by his head. Forks were flung at the face. As this childish cannon fire commenced, Chris started to notice something about his target. Chrissy was a weird gnarly horse looking insect, he could see that clearly. Or rather, he could see what was left. A pile of notebooks blasted open, papers flying out like a flock of pigeons and scattered across the floor. Pencil pistol fire with calibers of mechanical and wooden thumped out amidst the crossfire. All of her limbs, including the jagged appendage on her skull, were shot full of holes, and not of the natural kind. If such a thing as natural holes could exist. Even her hair had perfectly shaped circles within it. No wonder she was having so much trouble staying on her hooves, the amount of her legs missing looked like they were about to snap under the weight. It became clear to him what they were, the remnants of see through scars. The pair of shoes that streaked past gave him a kick in the head of clarification. Something had tried, and nearly succeed, to be rid of her. But instead of finishing her off, they just dumped her here on the planet. Confused and alone, wandering an unknown world full of species unfamiliar and presumably hostile. She was scared. She poked her head out from a cover of dirty clothes and rushed science projects. That long black pole jutting out into the air. Kinda hard to hide with that humongous attention grabber. And those eyes, those big glassy spheres, he could see that same fear rising. Looking to run. Looking to hide. His stomach started to stab itself, guts churning to a full seppuku at the sight of it all. He needed to do something quick. With a projectile in hand, he leaned back and chucked it over the cover of a coffee table, all his weight going with the throw. The straightest one he’d made yet, finding her frozen as it came towards her face. Specifically, her horn. It collided with a loud thump, followed by letting off a pathetic pffffffft… She made a surprised whinny, trying to swat at the basketball bleeding air on her organic pike. The opening was clear. He lept over the table and scrambled towards her, arms up and ready. She caught his attention and stuck out her hooves to punch. He grabbed her arms…legs, and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her barrel and lifting her into the air. He was half tempted to say something like you’re light for your size, but he’d learned his lesson a while back when it came to girls and their weight. She yelled and started to squirm within his grasp, making him tighten even more. Feeling her exoskeleton ribs expand and compress rapidly. “What’re you doing? Put me down!” “…No.” “Put me down this instant!” “I won’t.” He moved his head onto her shoulder, right beside her ear. “Not until you stop.” Her fidgeting started to die down, but her breath was still quick. “Never, not after what you’ve done to me!” “Chrissy, please…” “Stop calling me that!” “…Please, you need to stop doing this, it won’t get you anywhere.” He sighed. “Please, listen to me.” No bark this time, but he could still hear her angered huffs. “I still don’t know what’s going on here, or why I’m a part of it for some reason, but you need to stop trying to attack me. I’m not here to hurt you…I swear, the horn poke was just curiosity.” “Then what is this then?” She snapped. “If you’re not a part of this, then what the fuck is it?” “Again, I don’t know, but I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore.” He glanced over to look at her eye. Whispering, making it as soft as he could. “I want to help you.” This made a shiver run down her spine. “W-What?” “I want to help you, Chrissy. Seeing you this afraid and alone…it’s killing me.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Whatever, or whoever, has done this to you…I’m sorry. I want to set this right, however I can. But I can’t do that with you constantly trying to kill me over and over. It’s really inconvenient. He eyed one of the larger holes in her leg, feeling a righteous spark begin to burn. “I…I…” “But just so we’re clear, I’m Chris Greene. Always have been, never been nothing else. I’ve never taken anyone’s identity, nor have I ever screwed with anyone’s…body.” He chuckled faintly. “Heh, I bet that’s the first time you’ve heard anybody say that, huh?” It disappeared quickly, and he went back to being direct. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, I really don’t expect you to…just trying to be as honest as I can, someone’s gotta be.” He heard her take a sharp breath, as if she was shocked. Then, nothing. No response. No movement. The only difference being the dampness of his shirt. He felt her head drop. “…No…” Squeaked out from a sniff. He moved his head to see her full face, now red and wet with a trembling lip. “No…it’s not…this can’t be…” “I’m sorry, Chrissy.” “No…no…no.” She continued to repeat, as he noticed a greenish hue begin to surround her. He pulled his head back slightly. She began to repeat it louder and louder, until eventually she was screaming in his ear. Tears of a waterfall clogged her runny muzzle as the green was now more vivid than ever, swirling around the base of her horn. “Uh…what’re you doing-“ “NO!” In the blink of an eye, he felt like he’d been clobbered by a mac truck, and an explosion of green sent him flying backwards through the air. Blowing out his eardrums and nearly blinding him as his vison blurred at high speeds. Then there was a collision, and his back pressed upon a hard surface. Hitting it. Pushing it. Breaking it. Now an even quicker sensation of descent with his hair getting blown forward into his face. He managed to get this sight back just in time to see the abstract, reddish patterns of bricks whiz past him. Almost like a slideshow effect, as if someone had put it through a machine and began to speed the footage up by twice than normal. Strange how something could look like that, just a mass of shapes and colors and things you’d never see normally. What else is strange? Weightlessness. Having been beings that’ve relied on that pesky phenomenon known as gravity, even these few fleeting moments of flying freedom were always scuttled soon after. Blame Icarus, that cocky little shit. These are really the only thoughts that go through you head in times like this. Other thoughts being something like did I contact my professor about that one assignment? I need to take that food out of the fridge, it’s starting to spoil. Hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow, I could with some more of this nice weather. You’re mind fills up with nonsense of daily life, you really don’t think about the fact you were just blasted through the window of your dorm in Allison Hall, watching as the shards sparkled and flickered in the sunlight. Because that was obvious, anyone could see it. It’s the things you couldn’t see that start to worry you in times like this. You just go blank, and let the sound of speedy air fill you ears as you await impact. It all seems to fade away, to slip from your subconscious. Slipping. Slipping. Falling. Falling. Suddenly, there’s this new feeling. The feeling of an intense rush and shifting weight as you’re disrupted from your routine. Plucked by some unknown force as your trajectory is changed. From the hard pavement of the parking lot, filled with safety nets of decade old sedans and cheap clunkers, now the dead green of grass and trees, becoming larger and larger as you're smothered by this entity that’s clamped onto you. It’s crazy, but you get this overwhelming emotion of being cheated. That the destined outcome of your life was suddenly snatched away in seconds, now at the whim of someone else’s plan. That must’ve been how she felt, guess they were even. Then there’s the impact, softer than you expected by harder than you imagined, taken over by rolls of bodies as some leaves and twigs smack you across the face, the pained grunts and yelps of this creature that’s grabbed you being the only soundtrack to the event. Within moments, the experience sputters out into nothing, lodged deep in your memory, and you’re allowed control of your body again. Chris opened his eyes, his body now spread eagle amongst the weeds and broken branches. Peppered with the annuals of garbage sprouted by neglectful students. His hands rose him into a sitting position, slowly looking around at the shrubbery surrounding him. It was soft and quiet, except for the muffled cries of those back at the building, having been witness to what’d presumably occurred moments prior. Then he heard her. Huffing. Puffing. The sporadic buzzing of wings mixed in as she collapsed to the ground. Her eyes wide and unfocused, still streaming with uncontrollable tears. Shredded bits of basketball smoldered around her smoking horn, as the green was fading back to black. There was about another half minute of silence, as the two stared at each other and back towards the campus. Then, she spoke probably the most intelligent sentence any being had ever spoke within this known universe, possibly to others wherever they may be. “We gotta get out of here.”
6. Am I Going Nowhere?View OnlineDouble Double6. Am I Going Nowhere?To the beings whose home lie within the clouds of a crisp summer sky, it was very easy to distinguish between the two-tone two-ton boiling atop the black below, and the vast abstract stokes viewed by those without the graces of gliding with the winds. At least they could decipher between skin and the rows of scorched sand stacked high and mighty across these great structures. Visual cues etched deep within the brain to be remembered for more than a passing second. Or so they’d like to believe. These estranged thoughts passed through the officer’s heads, motioning them through the doors as they sauntered from the cruiser. The scuffle of their black leather boots melting with the tarmac, the only footing being the deep-cut ridges of the thick rubber soles. Through basic training, as well as some mental grit, it was quite simple to ignore this sweltering heat of late August afternoons. With the Sun positioned right where shadows were shortest, roughly around 1:15 or so. That didn’t make it any less frustrating. The driver tugged at the dark navy polyester pulled taut around his neck, cutting quick through the circulation underneath the cooking sun. “Y’know,” He started, for what was likely the hundredth time that day, “I seriously think seasonal uniforms are in order. We have them for winter, summer should, too.” His partner turned to him on a beat, the brim of his cap flicked in the sun. “What’s it now? You gonna whine until you’re draped in silk?” “No, but it wouldn’t kill them to invest in some shorts.” “Then I suggest you take it up with the department, I heard the campus is looking to fill a few seats on the pedal patrol.” “…Forget I said anything.” “Often do.” The Allison Hall, as it’d been championed by the state as a well-executed allocation of resources, now appeared to be depreciating integrity with each footstep. Students and local passersby had been swiftly vacated from the vital spaces of interest. Not that they’d want to be out here anyways. The sun was like a laser, melding the darker garments onto their skin with no covers of clouds in sight. Tac boots overflowing with sweat sloshing in their socks. Forget shorts, they should start investing in galoshes. There were a few people waiting on the sidewalk, eyeing them down the whole way. Some of them were older, styles reminiscent of a generation they could remember with their business casual. Hair done up like wiry cotton candy and a blazer that’d fit just right for around fifteen years. Those that were left they assumed to be the ones that called it in. Great, one of them thought, what’s it this time? A party? Trouble in paradise? Did some not heed caution when sailing the murky waters? Speckles of light danced all around him, crafting their own little welcoming committee. Spread out across the grass, the tarmac, and some of the vehicles parked in the row in front of the Hall. He frowned slightly, as his steel brow rusted in about five seconds time. He checked the muffled crack that sounded from beneath his boots. Glass. Glistening little shards scattered with the winds to lay perfectly random across the lot, casting a sort of fan pattern. Then, as if hitting his cues for a movie set, he motioned to his next move: Make slight grimace, hold for a few seconds, then move gaze towards the building proper. Notice the singular window smashed out, third story up. Hold for a least five seconds, before letting off a sigh of disappointed realization. Then say line: Nope, I had too much faith in them. “No way! I’m not doing that!” “Aww, c’mon, it’s not that bad of an idea.” “The answer’s still no.” “Not even if I say please?” “I’m not turning myself into a horse, Chris.” “Well, I mean…you are kinda part horse, so why not just go all the way? It might even help you get around on your hooves. You look like a little newborn foal when you’re stumbling around.” “I AM NOT- …I don’t think that’s the best idea. Think about it, when’s the last time you saw a horse walking around a college campus?” “…I dunno, crazier things have happened.” “Be serious now.” “I am!” “Then you’re seriously stupid. I’m gonna be the most suspicious thing out here. I’ll stick out like, well, like a horse walking around on campus!” “You already said that.” “The point is, we need to leave as swift and silent as possible, without causing a scene.” “…” “You’re not riding me out of here.” “What? Oh-uh, of course! I knew that! You’re right, I’m being very stupid! Very, very stupid…that it is.” The last round of questioning had finally circled around to a close, stumbling across the mental finish line. That didn’t make the haul there any easier to catalog, let alone comprehend. He finished up his notes and gave her a nice, calming expression, one many can clearly tell is crafted. “We appreciate your cooperation, Miss Doe.” He told the girl. “And we’ll do all we can to resolve this situation, and bring safety back on campus.” He almost felt guilty sending her off with the university staff, to amend their poor mushed minds from a combination of overdue papers and pharmaceuticals. Now they parted ways, and he went back to his partner by the cruiser, keeping close and low for suspicious talk. He wiped the shag carpet on his lip and began another set of questions. “You catch all of that?” He responded shrugged slightly, before clearing his throat. “You mean what was inbetween the tears and stutters? Then yes,” He grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe how far we’ve fallen as a nation.” “Not as much as this dude apparently.” He said, looking back to the window in a turn of forced amazement. “Three stories down, to be exact.” “Followed up by some black…creature, snatching him up and crashing off into the woods.” “Whew, glad you’re the one to say it. My ass’d be toast if those words came out of my mouth like that.” A heavy stared followed. He coughed. “Anyways, what do you make of all this?” “Professional, or personal?” He looked up to the window, then back down to the grass, watching as all the lights continued to flash at them. As if the bugs themselves were their own tiny branch of the media. Grasshoppers with cameras, zipping around the scene to get the best angles to sell to news outlets. Ants as anchors, reporting live back to their colonies, where information would spread wild and ravenous like…ants. Though, he preferred to see them more as dung beetles, completely enamored with crazed devotion to ever rolling mounds of their own shit. The sight must’ve been intoxicating. Smell, too. “It looks to me like out subjects could be a little more suspect then they’re letting on.” He shook his head. “I’m not so sure on that. Nerves can make anyone say anything, especially when the brain stops being reasonable. But all their stories seemed to match up, every single one, despite their…strangeness.” It’s one thing to have one person say one story at one time, it’s another to have two-three-four all saying the same words, painting the same picture. Replaying the same events. Or, as his partner was eluding to, spinning the same web. He crossed his arms and turned away from him, attempting to keep up his enigmatic persona. “Not that hard to keep everyone on a script. They looked like the theater type, anyhow.” He jammed his thumbs into his pockets. “Stupid kids doing stupid things for stupid reasons. It’s gonna happen no matter where you are. This might either be a prank, or perhaps a domestic dispute. Finding their whatever-friend doing something they’re not supposed to with someone they’re definitely not supposed to be doing it with.” His shaded stare shifted across the grounds, and stopped on the building opposite the road. With a confident smirk, he gestured upwards. “Take a look at that one over there, third floor up again.” Having to squint to get a clearer view, he held a hand to his forehead, and watched how the light traced across the distant window pane. “Cracked, multiple hits.” He muttered, feeling his shoulders become heavy. Annoyingly heavy. He turned back to his partner, who was giving him a very cheeky cocked brow as to his discovery. “What’s the plan here?” “I’ll search the mess out here, near the building and the edge of those woods. See if anything’s been discarded in haste. While you need to get us access to the dorm, it’s our main point of interest.” “And here I thought you wanted to take a nice long walk on beach with me.” He gave him a confused look. “Get it? ‘Cause glass is made of-“ “Inside. Now.” He pointed towards the front doors. “Heh, yessir.” He recalled a couple years back, one of his buddies in the medical field rushing over to a house to deal with three kids, all different ages of stupid, who’d just consumed detergent pods, and whisked to the hospital before their innards began to boil from the various cleaning chemicals. He was glad his kids weren’t old enough to be a part of all this, he didn’t know what he’d do. Neither would some other very displeased parents if this were heading where he thought it was heading. “That’s our best option, considering the restrictions you’ve put in place.” He pushed a prickly branch from his face as he walked around a fallen tree trunk. “Restrictions?” He put a hoof to his chest with an upturned nose. “Well, forgive me for finding the security of my own dignity to still be important.” “Dignity? Hate to break it to you, but that went out the window the moment we…” As he clambered over a rock, he caught a glimpse of her glowing glare, and found his throat closing up. “Uh…look, if you want to leave quick, we need to get on the road.” “Please tell me you have a car, right?” “Pssh, of course I do! And she’s a pretty sweet one at that…nice curves, pristine finish-not a fuckin’ scratch. She can really hug those corners, all in an elegant, efficient fashion-“ “It’s a ninety-eight Civic. In beige.” “Hey now, don’t knock it. I’ll have you know it was rated the most reliable car of it’s class.” “Not even close.” “Yeah, well, it’s close enough, and it’s the only thing that’s getting you out of here, so you better start acting like it. Sorry it's no golden chariot.” He shrieked a hiss with spontaneous anger, making Chris jumped back into the leaves he was laying in. He quickly stuffed his tongue back into his mouth and adjusted himself around the rocks they were hiding between. Keeping a constant eye on the ever constant flashing lights up the hill. He coughed and choked these feelings back down his throat. He wiped a hand across his face and looked down at his spit sprinkled shirt. “What was that?” “I…don’t know. Never been a fan of gold and it’s…arrogance. Perhaps black, that's far better.” “Gee, thanks for the tip. Ugh.” An idea came to him, as his eyes became those of worry, and he started fishing around in his pockets. They went even wider and he stared back towards the building. “What now?” “I may or may not have left all my stuff back in the dorm.” “Seriously, you had none of those on you?” His face lit up in a smug, sarcastic light. One he knew all too well. “Oh, well, now it’s time for you to forgive me for not preparing to be thrown out of a window, Chrissy. It’s not something one often schedules into their day, y'know? No notification for your daily drop.” “Asshole.” The two of them spotted a figure sauntering about the top of the hill, walking back and fourth on the grounds by the building. Kneeling down occasionally and scooping into the grass. “What the- who is that?” It seemed to be in a uniform, with a color that would bring a black hole to the sun’s rays of radiation. Maybe that would explain why he looked to be in such a sour mood. However, it didn’t explain why he was armed. “That’s a cop, isn’t it?” Chris looked up and squinted, before giving a shrug. “I’d put money on it.” “…Great.” He waited by the elevator, one foot tapping with idle energy as he leaned against the wall. The lobby of this building had about as much charm and character as the precinct, cold and lifeless as it slowly chipped away at the layers between the skin and soul. Letting you sit and wonder what you’d done to put yourself into this situation. To think, in due time his own money would be pumped into this system for his own kid’s future. He told himself it’s a good investment, they both did. But when your first tour of available colleges is determining which one had the best parking lot for a pseudo safety net, he started to see vocation schools in a new perspective. Plumbing may not be glamorous, but the work is always needed, and it definitely gets the bills paid. But no amount of scrubbing or fighting with a plunger could clean up the mess they’d just gotten themselves into. With a loud chime, the door of the elevator opened, as a posse of peeved workers shuffled their way out of the car with equipment in tow. “Thanks for the assistance. Always appreciated.” He said with a polite smile. One simply grunted at him with a annoyed expression, before walking out the door. Nearly running over his partner in the process. He shot them a dirty look, pulling at his askew shirt and screwing on his cap as he walked up to him. “Geez, hard to find decent help these days, isn’t it?” “Some could say the same about us.” He looked him up and down. “What happened to you? You get in a fight with a bush or something?” He asked, slowly picking a leaf from his shoulder and crumpling it in his hand. Along with a few blades of grass peppered amongst the buttons and patches. He looked down at himself, quickly rubbing off the evidence of his environmental evisceration, and looked back to him with a nervous glance. “Huh, oh…no, I’m fine, just dandy.” He adjusted the brim of his hat again. “And no, I didn’t see anything, apart from more glass and garbage. You’d think with all the money being dumped into these institutions, they’d learn a thing or two about helping the environment.” “They’d also learn these things put them in never ending debt, yet they keep lining up.” A chime rang and the doors opened. “C’mon, lets go.” They shuffled in, standing side by side as the doors closed, seeing the blurred reflections in the stained steel. The two stood side by side silently, feeling the faint rumbles of the car as they ascended. Anywhere holy was yet to be determined. One of them coughed. “So uh…” He glanced down then back up quickly. “…Murphy, you find anything interesting yourself? Any clues to bring about a hunch?” “A hunch?” Murphy shrugged it off. “Nope, and the fact it took nothing short of a battering ram to take the door down, I have no clue what we're in for.” “Really? They had to rip the door off the hinges?” Murphy nodded. “Hmph, I got fifteen, betting it’s a party.” “What?” “Y’know, like a college party? I remember my daughter showed me this video of a guy once, completely plastered, taking a header straight into a table. Broke the whole damn thing in half.” “Yeah, but at noon, on a Monday?” “I don’t know, crazier things have happened.” Murphy put his head in his hand. “C’mon, Jon.” He grumbled. Jon chuckled again as he watched the many blinking lights of the console, his eyes darting around the weird abstract patterns of light. “But, I mean, it can happen, right? Maybe there’s a few drinks leftover, feels like we’re in an oven out here.” “How about you quit complaining?” Although, yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad of a surprise right now, as he felt like his sweaty shirt had become a second layer of skin. His own personal little sauna. “Look when we’re done with this shift, I’ll getcha a beer or two, just hang in there and quit griping, I heard it helps conserve energy.” The elevator chimed again and the door opened. The two stepped out and made their way down the hall, Jon falling in behind Murphy. They came up to a door sectioned off in the corner, with chairs and tables alike keeping other students from entering. They moved them aside and came up to the doorframe. Murphy looked down to carpet, seeing the vast amounts of splinters piling out from inside. The light inside appeared to be flickering in its best attempts to shine through the damage. He shuddered. “Why do I have to do it?” “Because you’re the reason we’re in this to begin with! Plus, with that...ability of yours, it should make for easy pickings.” He looked at him with a dull expression. “Ok then, how about some ro-sham-bo, best two out of three?” “You’re really gonna act like this? Now? And I can only throw rock, see?” He held up a hoof. “...Three out of five?” “Chris!” “Well, if we took up my idea, this wouldn’t be an issu-“ “You’re not getting on top of me, you incessant little larva!” The figure atop the hill stopped abruptly, then turned their way in a slow, cautious manner. They ducked their heads lower. He tried to bury his horn under a blanket of branches and leaves. “Shit, too loud.” “You think?” The figure walked down slightly and got right at the edge of the woods, it’s head scanning back and forth across the many trunks. “Oh man, this is insane...” He hissed. “I’ve had problems with the police, and now they’re gonna be looking for me.” He was half tempted to just walk up the hill and speak to the man face to face, about as casual and collected as one could be. Wave a hoof and flash a TV style smile, fangs and all. Excuse me, sir! Terribly sorry to intrude, but I believe we’ve all gotten ourselves in quite the pickle here. We apologize, if we could please have a moment of your time and lay it all out, it would greatly benefit everyone involved. Please? He’d be lucky if he didn’t fill him full of holes right then and there...sorry, more holes. But he had to slip this nagging noose and get to the dorm again, considering this was sorta his fault. Not to mention they’d be on Chris like a rabid dog if he walked by them into his room now. Maybe they’d get an actual dog. A blot of black was floating around in the sun, moving through the air in an unfocused, circular pattern. It’s shape constantly expanding and contracting as it got closer to them. Evidently, it wasn’t anything dangerous, as the cop hadn’t focused onto it's presence, continuing to look into the forest. But it was getting closer. Much closer, and more controlled, until it... ...Landed on his muzzle. “Holy...” The place was a total wreck, like a small bomb went off. Just as he feared. Furniture broken and thrown around the main room and spilled over through the kitchen. Most the school supplies either stuck through the wall or were laying on the ground in their own piles. Mirrors and TV screen smashed to spider webs. Along with many of the wood panels warped and twisted as if something was repeatedly smashed onto them. On the other side of the broken window, sections of the walls and ceiling had been blackened from some kind of blast. It looked to be shooting forward, sending out of the ground below. What concerned him most was that it wasn’t the thing he was concerned most about. For there was other substance splattered about in gooey strings and little droplets. All with a sickly green glow to them. “It looks like World War Three in here.” Jon said, stepping around slowly. “Don’t suppose they left any stragglers for us?” “Doubt it.” Murphy said in a flat tone, taking up the other side and going into the living room. The couch had been upturned, with pillows thrown about into the kitchen area over in the corner. He knelt down to get a better look at the liquid. It gave off an aggressive smell, mean and bubbly. Toxic at first glance. Some of it followed a drip pattern across the room, with other puddles appearing to have been slid over. “We got quite the mess on our hands here, don’t we?” He continued, poking at a spoon shot through the wall. “If this isn’t it, it’ll do just fine till it gets here.” Murphy muttered, rising back to his feet and looked around, eyes scanning over the room. Jon stood over by the corner and placed his hands on his hips. “Looks like it’s only out here, in this general area.” He made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Real cage match by the looks of it. Hell in a cell.” He pointed over to an open door, unmarked and untouched. “See over there? Looks like the bedroom. I’m gonna take a look.” “Hang on a sec.” He pointed over to a puddle. “This, along the wood grain.” His brow scrunched in forced concentration. "The hell is that? Looks like some sorta science project gone haywire." He went down to touch it, before being swatted away by Murphy. “No-no-no, not that. Look at it’s shape.” Jon looked again, and his eyes went wide in disbelief. “Are those...hoof prints?” He said, with a hitch in his voice. “Indeed, and look, they go all throughout this place.” He examined them for a few seconds. “Equine. And it ain’t no Shetland, neither.” He looked back to his partner, who at this point was sweating enough bullets to fill a few magazines. He darted away and gave a slight chuckle. "Well goddamn." He said. "It seems to me our suspect was engaged in some pretty serious horseplay, wouldn't you say?" Murphy sat in silence for a moment, before swiftly standing up and staring back at Jon. "Say something like that again, and you're gonna help us in this case with an in-depth reenactment." He backed off, holding his hands up. "Alright, man, alright, just chill out." He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "In all seriousness, what do you think made these? You think he got a real one up here?" "Honestly, I'm not sure I even want to know." He looked back to the broken window, envisioning a body breaking through, falling fast. “No way anyone could walk away from a drop like that, let alone shuffle off with broken bones and bruises. But there’s no blood or anything out in the lot. Absolutely nothing but glass.” So much for a slow start of another slog sweeping the streets. It seemed their latest person of interest either had found himself a couple of not-so-friendly acquaintances who had a flair for the theatrics, or he had a very unorthodox method of getting his kicks...or bucks , if you will. Jon sighed, and looked over to the other barely intact doors of the dorm. “...I’m gonna check that bedroom, see if there’s anything useful I can find. If I see any incantations or spell books, you’re the first to know.” “Make it quick, we need to call this in. Think we’ll need a bio team to figure out what this gunk is. Might have to evacuate the floor, probably the whole building.” “Wonderful.” Jon said with a groan. “Don’t you just love these kind of days?” As Jon moved through the door into the bedroom, Murphy heard the rapid whips of flapping, followed by something landing on the glass with a crack. Or, it attempted to, before slipping and falling on the ground with an audible thwack. He turned around to see what was the cause of the noise. “What the hell?” The bright, vibrant blue of its body filled his field of view, sporadically fluttering as tiny appendages moved it to the very edge of his nose. His vision cleared just enough to see it was a butterfly, resting patient and peaceful as it let the light pour over itself. He stared at it, examining it as it flexed its wings and twitched it’s antennas around this discovery of a previous uncharted material. He wondered what it thought of his hard onyx exterior and the translucent abdomen full of guts and blood. Would it approve? Disapprove? What’s the checklist of a butterfly that determines ‘Ok, guess I’ll chill here for a while. Maybe invite some friends so we can do those butterfly things us butterflies are so well known for.’ In that time, it’d turned around to look him in the eyes with its own giant spheres. He felt, in that particular moment, a sense of understanding resonating with the small creature. At the end of the day, the both of them were merely weary travelers, both trying to navigate a world that wanted nothing to do with them. For him, the possibility of death swooping down to shred him to pieces in a split second. He probably didn’t even have the mental capacity to discover what was happening before it was too late. Gone. Vanished. As for Chris, well, humans aren’t exactly well known for their hospitality towards one another, especially between land masses. And especially even more if you’re of a different species. Not a moment goes by where you aren’t in immediate danger, not even in your own home. The world was here before you, and will remain once you’re gone. No skin off its back, no soil from its ground. You’re unearthed from the womb. You live. You die. You’re buried once more. Lucky bastard, having being graced with enough stupidity to never question its own nature. Only necessity. Only survival. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to get his opinion in the matter. It was then, a strange feeling began to bubble up from his throat, his vocal chords rumbling and twisting as the noise crawled out from his throat. A weird clicking, mixed in with quick flutters. Hello there. The butterfly appeared startled for a moment, fully extended it’s wings and beating them rapidly. Shoving wave after wave of air into his nose. Irritating it. Causing him blow out a horse-like sneeze, launching it into the distance with great force. It managed to stabilize itself physically and hopefully mentally and flew off immediately. Thrusting him back to reality. “Wait, I’m sorry! Come back!” He yelled in a whisper. “Who’re you talking to?” Chris asked. “That butterfly, the one that’s flying away...” He said sheepishly. It flew up the hill, making a quick buzz by the cop. It startled him and caused him to lose his footing and fall to the ground. With a blast of grass and leaves flying up, causing them both to wince. “What're you on, some kinda nature walk?” He said. “If you care so much, why don’t you fly up there and tell him yourself?” The officer quickly lept to his feet and surveyed around him. Once he saw no one was looking, he cursed under his breath and dusted himself off before walking to the front doors with a hat in his hands. That’s when a light bulb went off in his head. “Gasp, Chris, I got it!” “Got what?” “How we’re gonna get your stuff back, I got it!” “And that would be?” “A bird?” Murphy stilled himself as the animal squirmed and struggled to right itself on the floor. A light breeze from the west had followed it through the window. His hand out from his chest and the other near his hip, carefully studying the bird. It rolled over from it’s back onto it’s belly and rose to it’s talons, trying to use it’s wings as leverage in a ‘push up’ maneuver. Shaking out it’s feathers of the glass and peered around, head sliding across the feathers of it’s body like an animatronic. After a moment it’s head locked onto him. The sharp, unflinching glare of it’s yellow eyes freezing him on the spot. Then it opened it’s beak. “Squawk?” Murphy recoiled, tripping on the carpet and falling against an end table, what was left of the lamp shattering into pieces. Startled immensely from the bird’s surprisingly human tone. “Oh shi-“ It spoke, before covering its mouth with a wing. Murphy scrambled back on his hands and feet, taking cover behind the couch and getting back to his feet. “What the fuck!” Footsteps from the other room became louder as his partner rounded the corner. “Murphy, what’s going on? I got something.” Jon held up his hand and jingled the object, flashing like glass in the light. “I don’t think our guy is too far away. Left a couple other essentials lying around, too.” “Jon, no!” He shouted. Trying to rush over and rip the keys from his hands. But it was too late. The bird had taken flight and was rushing towards them, wings flapping in an uneven rhythm with it’s talons extended outwards towards their faces. They miscalculated each other’s movements and ended up falling over one another, the keys flying into the air, and spun tight around one of its toes. It continued past and flew towards the bedroom door. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Birds are all about shiny objects!” Murphy hoisted his partner off of him. Rebounding off the wall and headed towards the door. He kicked it open and alerted the creature standing on the desk, who was fumbling a wallet and phone between it’s wings. “...Uh...I need to borrow these...squawk.” “Like hell you are, freak of nature!” He grabbed for the bird-thing, but it ducked underneath his hand and scurried between his legs. The sounds of its talons clicking with the scrape of the keys echoing out of the door. Jon was bent over, a hand on the countertop as he tried to recoup from his sudden embrace with the floor. He was feeling around for his cap. Instead, he saw it laying lopsided in the middle of the room. He scooted over to pick it up, just as the bird ran over it, tripping and dropping the objects within it's wings. He wasted no time and clutched onto one of it's legs. Grip tightening as it tried to flap out of his grasp. "Aha, I got you now!" What followed was the bird immediately turned back at him and letting off a loud, high pitched shriek of a hiss. It's beak became serrated, rows upon rows of large, bone-like fangs running down the edges, and the eyes flashing an imposing, all encompassing green. Like something out of a horror movie. And naturally, he let go of the fucking thing in complete shock, his eyes watching as it quickly shoved the phone into it's beak and the wallet onto it's other foot and hobbled towards the window. Swinging it's wings in an up-and-down motion, barely getting any lift as it squatted atop the line of broken glass in the windowsill. Murphy came running out of the room, hand on his gun. "Jon, quick! We gotta stop that...thing..." He trailed off, seeing the creature drop head first out the window. He scrambled over and looked down, just catching a glimpse of it's body moving towards the tree line. On impulse, he drew his pistol and aimed it out the window, tracing it's trajectory slowly with hard focus. He felt his finger's pressure on the trigger, flexing further and further. Then he stopped. He grumbled. "I can't, there’d be hell to pay if I told 'em I'm shooting at a bird." He flicked the safety and placed it back into his holster, shaking off some chills. "Jon, you alright? Did it get you?" He walked over to his partner on the ground and extended a hand, quickly accepted as he pulled him to his feet. "It didn't hurt you or nothing, did it?" "No, I'm good. I think." Jon looked himself once over then nodded. "Great, that thing's got all his stuff, and don’t know where it's heading. So much for keeping order." "We need more units out here, figure out just what in the hell is going on...unless it’s actually hell itself." He groaned and ran a hand down his face. "In the meantime, someone needs to get in touch with his family and tell them what's going on with their son. And perhaps animal control while we’re at it." Murphy looked Jon over again, stopping at the crotch of his pants and it's discoloration. "Uh, Jon, you alright?" "Yeah, of course! Just...uh, slipped in some of that liquid is all. Got it?" The bird flew steady around the tree trunks, slipping and sliding in a slalom run as it darted through the branches, all while keeping it's newly found treasures close and secure. Eventually, it flew to another parking lot on the other side of campus, slowing down to land on the shoulder of a man sitting on a bench. He held out his hand and the hawk dropped the objects into his open palm, taking them with a smirk. "How'd it go?" “It felt wrong.” He answered quickly, handing him his belongs before shaking out the feathery wing. “It felt very, very wrong.” “Yeah, y’know what else feels wrong? Being a G-Man’s personal pin cushion, that’s what feels wrong.” He pocketed the keys and motioned over to a car. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” “Where?” He asked, hopping along the dirt on the little bird legs. “Right now? Anywhere. Just as far away from this campus as we can get.” “Now, um, Chrissy, I’d like to ask you, and don’t take this personally, I mean no offense…but what the fuck are you?” They had sped out of there just as quickly and wild as they could without attracting any further attention from the authorities lulling around. And sure, while 35 miles per hour wasn’t the most ideal get away gallop, but better to be heading somewhere slow than to be going nowhere fast, ha ha. Yes, that is a fake laugh, dick. As they drew near to the edge of town, the clustered cacophony on the sides of the street slowly gave way to vast farmland filled with a wide variety of crops and farm equipment, and he wondered if jumping out and flying away would be more productive. Why’d he even leave his dorm this morning? He should’ve just went straight to bed after his game crapped out on him. At least he would’ve been able to assess this situation with a clear head, instead of just rushing it under the veil of false confidence and a flurry of emotions. Maybe then he wouldn’t be sitting here, disguised as a bird with this freaky caricature come to life, and his entire life reduced to rubble. Maybe he would, there was always a possibility. That's the thing about life, chances are always considered very slim, but never once labelled an impossibility. "What am I?" His tiny head twitched back and forth to look at himself. "Well, uh, I don't know, I just kinda thought of an amalgamation of different birds I've seen-" "No, I mean you. Like, what species are you? You some kinda space alien, or is Alaska cooking up some freaky breeding experiment? I know they got those super secret military bases up there...probably." "What the fu- ...no, no, that Alaska shit was a lie. All of it." He said with a glum look, or his best attempt with a beak. "But, uh, I'm not really sure, honestly. Definitely looks like an alien to me, checks all the right boxes. But I've always been a human, or at least I thought I was...I looked like one, yeah. Plain and simple." There was however, this word-this title if you will-that seemed to be rolling around on the tip of his tongue. It seemed to fit rather neatly, given his new form's ability to take the form of other forms, those big and small. This shapeshifting, disguising, this...changing. Yes, he knew he had it, but he just couldn't grasp it! Like an answer to a test question you've studied one too many times, that once you come across it, your brain decided to draw a blank. Well, maybe he couldn't grasp it because of the hooves as well, but it was still making him mighty miffed that mouth noises weren't materializing. "Guessing it wasn't so simple then, huh?" He nodded. "Nothing I'd ever done alluded to...this..." He motioned a wing with a mourning tweet. Perhaps this whole thing was a sign of some sort, it would certainly make more sense. Incidents. Irregularities such as this don't come appear out of the blue. With a problem like this, there's always a reason, maybe not a good reason, but a reason nonetheless. Chris continued to mumble nonsense hoping to find some actual sense sifting through the sounds, but the best he could come up with was- "Uh, yeah, this is-you are-very odd." "I know." “You look like the mishmash of the ass end of a horse and a squashed insect shot full of-“ “I KNOW! OK? I’M VERY FUCKING AWARE!” Chris scooted away slightly in his seat as he pulled off towards an old back road clear of civilization, allowing them room to breathe and ponder. "Why don't we start with this morning? Take things nice and slow, and we might get somewhere." He cleared his throat. "So, you got up, bright eyed and...erm, bushy tailed?" The bird shrugged. "What happened?" "Well, I really didn't wake up this morning, more like I...reemerged back into the world. I've been up all night playing video games." "Oh! The VR one? With the knights and shit?" He looked at him, slightly surprised, but brushed it off realizing how he knew. "Yeah?" "Did you finally beat it?" "Well, yes, but-" "How? I've been stuck on that fucker all week! It's driving me crazy!" "I don't think this is import-" "Wait! Wait! On second thought, don't tell me! It might spoil something." "Chris, I-" "But, can I at least get one hint, maybe? Like, a certain move or something?" "Chris." "But if it ruins too much, then never mind, I don't wanna know...unless, you can-" "CHRIS!" Another shout shut him up again. "Focus, please." He went back to watching the road, muttering under his breath. "Just asked for one hint is all, damn." "Thank you." He sighed, and went back to his subject. "After getting through all of that, I felt completely out of it, so went to go get something from the fridge to eat. Found and apple and began to cut..." He mimicked a chopping motion with a wing, before pretending to pierce it like a knife. “That explains the holes at least.” He rolled his eyes. “I went to go wash it off, and suddenly my blood turned black, and yes, the holes appeared, but they were invisible in the beginning. Then my whole body locked up and started suffocating with this great pressure, like I was thrust into the vacuum of space. After a while...I guess some kinda instinct kicked in, and I turned into, well, that thing as you saw.” “Damn, forget pissing in your wheaties, sounds like today dropped a whole Lincoln log on you.” He rapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “So, where do I come into the picture?” “When you did just that, walking by my window just as I was closing the blinds. I ended up having a little...moment, if you know what I mean.” He sighed. “I thought...I thought you were an alien that'd targeted me to ruin my life. Or the world. Or maybe the world, and while in the process, my life as well.” “And you tried luring me out with that, um, disguise of yours?” He nodded, feeling his head lower in shame. The two fell into silence, the muffled sounds of the engine filling the void. His hand swiped over the blinker, and a right arrow flashed. He saw Chris’s eyes move down to his hands on the wheel, color on his knuckles whitening. “In a way, I guess I sorta did that...ruining your life and all. Considering the fact that, y’know, you found out you’re not you...I’m sorry.” “Why do you keep doing that?” “Doing what?” “Saying you’re sorry? I know you were telling the truth back there, I could taste it. The...emotion, was so pure. Rich with sympathy and compassion, there’s no way you could fake that.” He looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Yes I know, it’s just as weird for me, too. But you didn’t do any of this, there’s nothing to apologize for.” “I don’t know...it’s just-“ “If anyone should apologize here, it should be me for blasting you out the window.” “Yeah, but-“ “No buts, you’re fine. Trust me.” He’d spoken again using that soft, compassionate voice like he did with his rowdy dorm mate. Using the cover of the queen’s voice from the game. However, instead of going glossy eyed and robotic, he merely gave an understanding nod. His aura continued to deepen in the chills of regret, mixed in with a faint desire...to go back and fix what he thought he’d done. “Alright.” He said in a defeated tone. He smiled, or at least attempted to with the beak. They continued to drive out for a few more minutes with awkward silence filling the car. After a while, Chris said. "So, what happens now?" “What happens now is we try and stay within a functioning society, that’s what.” He hopped a little closer to his seat and looked up at him. "I'd like to establish some rules from this point on, between me and you." "More rules?" "Yes, and I would like you to follow them without question. It will benefit us both, trust me.” “Fine.” He said, seemingly going on autopilot as he stabilized their speed to around forty or so. “When it’s just me and you, I get to use the Chris body as I’ll call it. Out of everything I’ve been as of late, I feel the most comfortable in that one.” He pursed his lips and looked out the side window. His eyes were bouncing back and forth in their sockets, having an internal debate of this strange request. The scent of the air certainly felt like it. A dash of individualism, mixed in with a sense of frustration and slight pity. After a while he blinked and nodded. “Sure, that’ll work.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate you letting me do that-“ “But.” He cut him off. “I get to keep calling you Chrissy, it’ll make things much easier...and I had the name first anyways.” “Deal. A fair trade for all.” He extended a wing towards him. He raised an eyebrow at it’s sight, before taking in his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Ouch.” He shook out some crooked feathers. “Next, pants.” “Now’s not the time for shopping.” “I’m gonna need some kind of clothing, dude. I can’t just walk around naked the whole time, no matter how natural that idea sounds.” He held his chin for a moment, analyzing the bird sitting next to him. Then he moved his eyes upwards to where he would be at normal eye level. After a little while, he blinked and looked down again. “Have you ever thought about transforming, while seeing yourself already wearing clothes?” “Uh...” He squeaked, hopping on his feet nervously and fluffed his wings. The neck constantly darting around to all corners of the cabin. “No, I didn’t. Wow, that’s actually a pretty good idea, can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.” “That’s because it’s not your money that’s being spent, that’s why.” Chris chuckled. “Are you saying you wouldn’t help this poor soul look as best as she possibly could?” “Huh?” “Nothing-nothing, just a joke!” Even though, the idea of shopping for the right kinds of clothes for his female disguise did sound intriguing to an extent. He wondered what kinds of tops would look best on it. To study its exploits and limitations. The only thing he’d ever really seen her in was that elegant, ruby dress adorned with jewelry and strange alien patterns poor souls on the art team slaved over for who knows how long. Carefully crafting every conspicuous detail on her character model with the engine they were using. That, and of course, her crown, as all far flung fantasy rulers wear at some point. Maybe he should find one like that, he thought. He bet he’d look good in a crown...very good. He exhaled, sounding more like the coos of the bird. “Ok...um, so do you think I should imagine both the clothes and the body underneath, or just the clothes themselves?” “Why’re you asking me? I’m not the one with the shapeshifting body.” “It was your idea!” “That don’t change the fact I’m a human being.” He said with a huff, continuing to drive down the winding countryside. Considering the they had a few hours until the daily work shift ended, it practically gave them the whole road to themselves. If circumstances were different, he would’ve just rolled the windows down and cruised. “But if it was me doing it, I’d think of both, just to be safe.” Chris looked at the various mirrors of the vehicle, confirming that they were still the only ones out on this road, at least those that could be seen. He gave him the word and turned back the road. He gulped and looked at the massive seat he was balancing on. Here goes nothing. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself, the body appearing in his mind with ease. But now came the tricky part, squinting hard as he manually cranked the cogs within his cranium. He could feel the dull throbs of a headache beginning, but he powered through to turn a metaphorical key. Waking a large machine, spinning and sewing as the tiny threads fused themselves around the body, careful not to stitch to the skin with a surgical precision. The shirt came first, a simple t-shirt. Bending and twisting to fit him, the collar slithering across his neck and swallowing its tail to complete the ring. Flowing down onto the rest of the cloth and connecting in patches. Then onto a pair of shorts, and only those. Focus on one layer. After those had latched to his legs, he moved his attention to his feet, which proved to be rather tricky. Not only with the socks, but not he’d have to dissect all the deep intricacies buried underneath the stitches and sole, meanwhile feeding lace all throughout. Forget it, just do a pair of slip-ons for now, those aren’t as complex. Once he had it all together, he nodded to himself and let the green flame engulf him, turning the avian apparition to ash. The car swerved violently across the road. He fought with the wheel to get it righted on the proper side of the line, all manner of squeals and howls raging from outside. Finally, he managed to break the thing as it settled and went back to a straight line. “Jesus, you gotta warn me before you do that!” Looking over he saw, well, himself in an uncomfortable angle in the passenger seat. Now finally wearing clothes, along with a faceless expression as he slowly rubbed the fabric between his fingertips. It was like looking into a mirror. A very strange, very creepy mirror. Chrissy’s mouth hung open as they slowly looked over the rest of her-him-bug body. “Hmph, pretty good, not bad.” He said with an affirming nod, before flexing his chest. “But I could’ve sworn I was...bigger. How’re you feeling?” Chrissy didn’t answer, rigid like a statue as they placed their fingers on their face, pressing deep into their cheeks. Then they started screaming. He lost control for a second more, jerking towards the grass. Sounds of small rocks and dirt flying on the inside of the wheel wells. “Get it off! Get it off me! Get it the FUCK off me!” “What’s going on?” They yelped, tugging at their pants. “It’s too weird, too fucking weird! Get it off me!” “What off you?” “THIS!” They pulled at their shirt collar, before immediately shaking his hands like they just grabbed a fist full of wet food. “Seriously? I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Chris said, poking their shirt with a finger, which was swatted away in a panicked swing. “Don’t touch me!” They shouted. “Oh god, I can feel it, all of it. The skin, the hair, it’s everywhere! Wrapped around my body, yet not on me at the same time. It’s still flesh, sewn within the cotton. I can feel the floorboard under the soles, fuck, my feet are the soles!” They turned to him, eyes bulging wide. “I can't do this, I need real clothes!” "Ok! Ok! We’ll get some real clothes, just calm down before you fucking wreck us!" He shouted, holding one hand up to protect his face from the constant flailing next to him. Chrissy calmed down at that, as they quickly turned back into a bird and began to hop around in circles on the seat. "Thank you, thank you!" "Sure." He replied, his voice low and tired. "But that's gonna have to wait till tomorrow, please. We got a lotta road ahead of us, and I've already dealt with enough for today." "Road? Where are we going?" He checked his phone, and noticed the small, blue trail on the screen stretching far and wide. The little model of a car looked like bacteria when the map was fully zoomed out. Like long shoe string that tied them to now and their long distant destination. "We're going home." "Why're we stopping here?" "It's just for the night is all." "But, it's a dump." "Then ask for the janitor's closet and clean it yourself. Otherwise, quit griping. You're not the one paying for it." "Really, you're gonna hold that one over my head? Y'know the Super is just a part of the title, right? That don't actually mean the quality of these places is...super. More like subpar, supremely average, at least they'd get points for honestly." Because at that point it wouldn't be the truth, nor the whole truth. Here, there would be nothing but the truth. This little motel smackdab between Bumfuck and Nowhere was a 5-star, grade A, FDA approved shithole. Strange how a place can be at Bumfuck, often found when people are at peak confusion, and Nowhere, which is pretty self explanatory, at the same time. Somewhere, yet it's always out of reach. Lost and, well, more lost. Words. He felt like he'd just stepped, or flew, given his choice of entry through an intact window, into a time capsule. One where color TV is considered high class, and asbestos was an acceptable part of the process of making wallpaper. Maybe the hope was you'd die from your war wounds before malicious cells ever had the chance to metastasize. That would explain the cheap felling of every thing's construction, beds of bricks and prison level bathrooms with condiments made for the insects that were crawling within their peeling walls. Ugh. Creepy. One of the many reasons why he never liked places such as this, cubes joined together that opened out into a parking lot. Nothing good ever comes from that! Nothing! Like this shampoo that dripped down into his eyes as he was scrubbing in the shower. "Dammit!" She growled, quickly rubbing her eye. His fake eye. On his fake body. It was so hard to do any mundane tasks now, especially anything involving the body. Now it felt like a dire, delicate operation that required surgical precision to pull off. Better be careful with the way you scrub your arm, lest you shear your skin and get squished in this tiny shower. How could he have done this all his life and never noticed? There should've been something to tip him off, something his parents would know. Maybe...it was a puberty related thing, and this was the consequence of a...very special growth spurt. Wouldn't have hurt to keep his gender, though. He sighed as he wiped himself off with a towel and chucked it to the side. "This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, you really couldn't find anywhere else to stay?" He asked through the walls. "Trying to save money for gas tomorrow, along with those clothes you want to buy. And like I said, just for tonight, maybe not even." That was another thing he didn't like, adding it to the laundry list. The acoustics of this place often left little to the imagination. One slight cough would sound like a goddamn shotgun blast. Luckily, there seemed to be no other cars out in the lot, and the only person Chris saw inside was a girl asleep behind the main desk. It only hit him now that he'd been frolicking in feathers for the past few hours now, and his actual clothes were nothing but charred up tatters back in the dorm. He opened the bathroom door slightly and poked his head out. "Hey, can you do me a favor?" Chris turned away from his phone to look at him. "Yeah?" "Could you, like, close your eyes, or maybe just turn around for a moment? Or many moments?" "Heh, what's the matter, you feeling exposed or something?" He laughed a little, but it quickly died down. "Sure, I'll letcha get on with that shapeshifting business." He swung his legs around in a 180 to the other side of the bed. "Thank you." He said quietly, even giving a tiny smile as he stepped out carefully into the main area of their motel room. The brisk chills of the AC making him cocoon in bubbling goosebumps. Completely exposed before a complete stranger completing an even stranger task It made his body feel numb, as he looked down sadly towards his hooves. "You can look now." It'd been so long since he'd been in this form, that he nearly tripped over himself and almost went headfirst into a bed post. "Actually, nevermind, not yet.” “Smooth moves there, Chrissy.” He got up from the bed with a stretch. He pointed towards his phone. "Says here, at the very least we still got about three or four hours till we get where we're going. If we can time it right, we'll be able to miss the morning rush, and any other unwanted acquaintances on patrol." His ear twitched at that. "Wait a minute, three or four?" He lowered his neck to look at the phone. "So we really are...we're really going home?" "That's the plan." He gave a happy snort and danced on his hooves a little. "Whew! Finally, something good for a change! It'd be great to see some familiar faces after everything that's happened. I wonder if they'd have any clue about what's going on?" "I'm not too sure that my mom would know what to do in this situation. I don't think there's anyone out there who'd have a plan for this, but it's a good place to start." "Someone we can trust." "I don't know about trust per say, rather I'd say..." He was trying to build up a point with empty words, but nothing came about. All this talk and still no answers, he'd never heard himself talk so much about nothing in just a few short hours. But it was a good thing they were talking, right? Getting acquainted with each other, building bridges, hand shaking shit. Right? That's a plus? But is it really that big of an achievement when all that was made was a mirror that learned to talk back? It could walk and feel emotions, maybe even think. But it was all a ruse. A copy. The twisted result through an act of mimicry. "Here's the deal, I'm gonna step outside for a moment and make a phone call, should only be a few minutes." He waved his free hand around the room. "You can pick where you want to sleep, any bed, I really don't care. Hell, you can sleep on the floor if you want." "Eww, no!" He recoiled, sticking out his tongue. "I'm not gonna lay down here, there's bugs crawling around here, I just know it!" "Well, that's quite rude of you." He scoffed. "What? That I don't like bed bugs?" "I mean, c'mon, have a little courtesy here. Even around extended family, they got feelings, too. I believe the proper terminology is bed fellows." One of Chrissy's eyes twitched violently, as the rest of his brow grew dim. "Excuse...me?" "Well, I- uh, was just making a joke is all-" "A joke, you call it? You consider that to be comedic?" "They're insects, and you kinda have the parts yourself, so I was trying to-" "Trying to what? Make a connection, a bond of some sorts? To put us on an even playing field?" He stomped closer to him, a repeat of what'd occurred prior that day, leaving little room between the two. Little room to move. To breathe. Chris sighed and held his hands up jokingly. "Listen, I didn't mean nothing by it, it's just-" "They are nothing!" She shouted, stamping a hoof and causing the room to vibrate slightly. "They are weak, squirming little shitstains, who could never compose themselves enough to hold a wet match to my offspring. They are nothing more than food, prey meant to be captured and eviscerated shrieking by a vast sea of predators before they could ever come to the realization that all of their crawling, all of their efforts and hardships were nothing more than seasoning for those far superior to salivate over. Watch them struggle as they try to escape! Panic filling their tiny brains, unable to comprehend the beginnings of their own oblivion!" She ground a hoof slowly with a sinister snicker. "We would never allow ourselves to fall, let alone associate, on a level comparable to those insects. We're far more capable, intelligent, and dignified to be labelled as such. We are years, no, light years, no, parsecs ahead of them! We would never fall for the same pathetic traps such as they. We are the rulers of our domain, of everything we desire. We take what is rightfully ours, and share it with no one. We are the apex, anywhere and everywhere is our hunting grounds. And we most certainly don't bed with- Ooh! Uuuuh-...ahh...mmm..." Her grand speech was put on hold as the wonderful scratching sensation filled her brain, as the other hand has busy massaging her neck. "Uh huh, you're a real apex predator alright." Chris chuckled as he watched her giant eyes begin to glaze over. Chrissy gave a pout while her head continued to lean into the scratches. "I'm...I am...mmm right there." "Yeah. Very scary." "Mmm hmm..." Chris shook his head and smiled, before pulling his hands back and giving a muted clap. "Boo!" He whispered. Chrissy jumped with a surprised chirp and looked around frantically, trying to comprehend what was going on. Eventually, she calmed down as the black of her face took on a shade of red and her ears flattened. "Heh heh, uh...what're we talking about?" She asked with a goofy smile. "Just trying to lighten the mood. Sorry it got you so riled up." He rubbed his cheek and frowned. "Just please don't do it again. I don't want to think about it...I don't..." "Noted." He replied as he walked towards the door, tapping on the phone screen. "I'll let you sort yourself out now, see ya in a minute." He said before slamming the door shut, killing the conversation and leaving her to stand in solitude. Chrissy sat there a moment staring at the door, when suddenly a rush of spontaneous anger swelled through her body. "Hmph." She swiveled on her hooves with an upturned nose. "Unbelievable, thinking he could lay his hands on a queen in a familiar motion. Let alone me, Chrysalis, and I...will...w-what? What the fuck am I...what am I doing?" His movement became woozy, stumbling side to side and his legs became crisscrossed. "Oh, my head. Why's my head...wh-" She tripped over and collapsed sideways onto the bed, the sheets splashing upwards in a maroon wave and submerging the middle of his body in itchy cotton. That don't change the fact I'm a human being... I'm a human being... His body. This freak-this thing that is was-belonged to her. It always had, from the very beginning. It was how everyone else, every other human, would see her. It didn't make any sense, was it something she did? Why did any of this happen? Why is this happening to him? Why? We're going home... My... But...but he had to have something of his own, right? He remembered how much he’d worked. All the money saved up, all the hours contributed. Computer parts and a car to show for his efforts, very acceptable rewards he always saw them. Just the fact he’d made it in this college to begin with. There had to be...something... ...Anything, a single thing. My mom... Mom... No...no, that's not true! It can't be! She had to know about him, surely! He could remember her! She had to remember, someone had to remember! "No." He whimpered into the pillow. "It won't be too long, right? I won't be...stuck like this...forever...right? R-Right?" He began to shake, rolling over onto her back, staring out onto the lines of moonlight seeping into the room. Her horn thumped onto the wall behind the bed, leaving her head at a painful angle. "You can't do this to me! You can't take this...everything! You can't! It’s not fair!" He tried to breathe, just like this morning, trying his best to pump enough air into his system to keep up with the rapidly pounding heart. "No, I can't live like this, I can't! Someone, anyone!" "...M-M-Mother, where are you? I need help, I'm having a terrible nightmare and I can't wake up!" My... He connected with the carpet with a disorienting crack on his cranium, his torso twisted towards the hidden light. While his lower half laid limp on the bed. Legs tingling with an ever dulling pain as he continued to stare outside the window. Watching as the rows of light brightened, expanded, merging with one another as the detail of the room became soft and undefined. He could've sworn he spotted a splotch of bright blue in the midst of the misty mix. But before he set off on this strange journey, his eyelids slowly closed, with his mouth croaking a few final words. "Goodbye world...goodbye mom..." "...Goodbye...everyone..." Author's Note Rewritten and (hopefully) of better quality.
7. Freezing MoonView OnlineDouble Double7. Freezing MoonAuthor's Note Due to past critique (It helps, trust me) I’ve decided to condense 7-8-9 into one full chapter, while also touching it up where it’s needed. Enjoy! 7. Freezing Moon I see you. Crawling around inside me. Wearing my skin. Writhing around in my innards. Hiding behind my eyes. Flee. Jump. Fly. Cower. There is nothing. It’s everywhere. Everything. Watching. Flying above all. White like eyes. Her throne. Her shroud. Her tomb. Into sleep we drift. Into dreams we drown. Half a song. Half a scream. Your place will fade away. A black hole shitting into the void. It was the only collection of words and visuals he could conjure to assess his current predicament. The only answer he could give in these fleeting moments of time, if indeed that ever-elusive concept’s existence was still recognized in this world, and even further if this was a world, to begin with. He couldn’t tell, for there was no feedback to these inebriated curiosities. No, there was only silence. A silence so intense, so relentless, the deafening pressure had pulverized through every inch of his body. Body? Was he so sure? Perhaps it was all crammed within his skull, working hard to squeeze his soupy brain into a mushy shutdown. Could it be? Could it be anything at all? He didn’t remember if he’d ever gone this far while deep in the depths of the unknown. Had he always been there, and was only now becoming aware of it? Was anything around him ever something, or had it waited patiently for the precise moment it would turn into nothing? But isn’t nothing still something in the end? Nothing, which would be something, and that something would be nothing, just as something must always be, even if it is nothing. Forever hanging, swaying between what was known, what is known, and what will never be known. Eyes. Withered and dried out from a sea of sand, were the first sense to come to him. Their power was weak, a crust thick and aged had mounded, causing a dull pain to arise from their exposure. The blinks were slow and needed a decent amount of energy for each snap of the eyelids. Clearing this waste, surroundings came to him, or rather, he came to them. Presented before shapeless blobs lit by a strange unidentifiable hue, with everything else covered in an unfocused fog. Consciousness had been born, nearly still, but born, nonetheless. Beneath him, a feeling of faint expansion, soon followed with tasteless air bubbly with static, then escaping to create a sonar to the rest of his body, which he now realized he had. By a thread, the strings of control were secure in their bridges of bone, yet were horrifically out of tune. A strum of the cords hadn’t brought about the expected results, only stiffness and pain. These strings were worn and in dire need of a change. With most senses-the ones that mattered-starting to work together, the world began to take proper identifiable shape. Scratch that. Not identifiable. Or proper. Or anything he’d known at all. A vast wasteland, as lifeless as a forgotten memory. Splotches of greyish whites washed over the hills like a shroud. Pieces of thick charcoal rock jutted out in sharp peaks, and others were broken off into bare slabs. Those looked to be in the far distance, while icy winds were blowing around, and through him, its whistle roaring and whimpering with intensity. All underneath a pale pink sky, clouded in snowfall. He'd never seen a land so dreadful, one that was utterly unwilling to house any habitat for any kind of existence. Mother Nature had given them the cold shoulder, not budging an inch, not a single word in its disgust. However, a few whispers were skating on those icy winds, as the absence of heat allowed them to cut through crisp and clear. Where am I? Was one of those thoughts, asked to no one and anyone, wasn’t I just in a motel or something? These look like…some kind of mountains. A piece of stringy hair hung before him, lifelessly blowing in the quicker breeze. Maybe it was from that old air conditioning unit. He’d just taken a shower, so that could explain why he felt so cold and slick. It might even freeze like this. He grunted and raised a hoof to swat at it. A hoof. Damn. With this hoof, he felt just how brittle it’d become, like he could strip it from his scalp by blowing it off his nose. In doing this action, he threw off his balance and his legs gave underneath him and slammed onto his back. The snow did little to cushion the blow, feeling more like icicles stabbing up his spine. He moaned in pain and dragged his legs up his barrel, the fetlocks rolling over several prominent bumps along the way. They were raised. Starved. He went to his throat, “What’s happened to me?” To say he spoke would be a generous description. The labored croak ran up the inside of his mouth like knives, leaving freezing burns as a result. Ironically, it was dry as dust, when compared to the heavy snowfall piling on top of him. This thick blanket worked quickly to suck out what little warmth was left in his body. Awful, just terrible, never before had he felt such a chill. He yearned for the foul, yet human smell of the old overused motel room. Those comforting aromas of unwashed bedsheets and over Febrezed bathroom. Or home. Home would’ve been nice too. The coldness had gone to his mind, as a rather nasty thought appeared. One of many recently, regarding the whereabouts and motives of his supposed human counterpart. Even compared to everything that’d occurred today, none of this made any sense. To find a place such as this, you’d have to go far-far away from where he’d left off. You’d need a different state-no, a different season-no, a whole different continent to find a region such as this. Just how could he have ended up here to begin with? Unless… Fangs bared in rage as he continued to stare up at the sky. He should’ve known, it was all going too well, too smooth to be right. That thing knew what he was doing, acting sincere and casual to tear down his wall of suspicion. Then, right when his guard was down, he snatched him and sent him far away. Somewhere that he wouldn’t be a burden to any of his plans. He hissed lowly and closed his eyes, as grave stillness implanted within him. It was cold. Overpowering. Note to self, trust no one, not even…yourself. A piece of information that would be helpful to remember. He could’ve sworn that had been his first train of thought back in the morning, which now felt like a lifetime ago. How did he ever let that alien win him over, to talk him down from his rightful anger? Had he intended for him to play the damsel in distress, the poor wounded animal waiting desperately to be healed by a hand of compassion? He was disappointed in himself for stooping to such a level. …But, it did feel nice, it really did in those moments of uncontrollable panic. To find someone that saw the same things as him, someone who could understand his worries, and was considerate of her perspectives. Would he do something like that? She couldn’t imagine committing something that cruel and vicious. It wouldn’t be worth the effort involved. There’d be far too much planning, with little return to justify it. Could you imagine plotting, dumping countless resources, just to have the plan fall apart upon execution? How silly! Yes, how silly of her to do such a thing. How…silly… … No! What was he thinking? That’s exactly what that alien would want him to think…at least, he thought so. Now he was there, and he was here. Wherever here is. With great effort, he tried to lift himself by placing his hooves at his chest and rolling over, using the momentum to push himself back up into a standing position. From there, he could then determine his next move, even if it were a simple step forward. But he’d underestimated the extent of his weariness, leaving him to only roll on his stomach with another hiss of defeat. He looked once more to the pink sky. …Flight. The vision of the mismatched bird appeared in his mind, and he watched his legs begin to sprout feathers. Pulsing and growing as the stalks poked through the chitin. The whole process was pretty repulsive all things considered. Watching as the squishy flesh wiggle and squirm upon its rapid birth. The sound was disgusting, nearly enough to make him puke. Like one of those dissection projects, he had to do in high school. Carefully moving the razor, steady as a surgeon, and discover just what made a frog ribbit. Nevertheless, he could never pull himself to look away. Something about it just intrigued him, satisfying a curiosity deep within. It proved to be worthless, as they shriveled up and whisked into the air and crumbled into green ash. Becoming as small and meaningless as the snowflakes falling in sheets. So this is it then, he thought to himself, feeling his eyelids become heavy. He never thought it would come for him this quick, nor in a place like this, or after events such as that. Guess he never really thought about it at all, but it’s here now. He closed his eyes fully and exhaled deeply, nuzzling himself in the snow. Smothered in white to cast into forever night. “This…is the end.” “Indeed, old friend. This is the end.” A voice, full of warmth and life, cut through the air, coming from within and all around him simultaneously. He looked around for the owner of this booming tone, hoping he hadn’t just finally snapped the frayed ends of sanity. There’s nothing he needed less than to hear mocking chants in his mind. But luckily, or unfortunately, he wasn’t that far gone yet. Amid the barren wastes, there was an outline, poised high on a rock, of a darkened figure. He grasped at the snow and dragged himself towards them, wet nostrils caked over his muzzle. The voice continued, “This is the end, of all elaborate plans, of everything that stands, this is the end.” Still full and unwavering, each word boasted with the utmost confidence. He could tell where it, no, she was speaking from. Indeed, it was coming from the figure. He sped up by a hair. A pause, one filled with a long remembrance. Her voice had aged enlightenment to it, caressing his ears like a mother’s blanket. Comforting. Almost as comforting as the heavy black robe completely covering their body. Their large silhouette stood out against the surroundings. Again, she continued at a rehearsed pace. “The end, as it chased the dying daylight over the horizon, it too will follow the all-encompassing glow of the moon. Stars, shining bright and beautiful across the night sky. Untouched, pristine, they’ll paint the world the most beautiful portrait. But soon, the moon will follow the sun, dragging across the sky and drowned by the very same horizon. Those stars, will soon fizzle out and die, dispersing into nothingness.” The figure shifted and stepped off her perch, slowly floating down to him. “And as it draws to a close, just as the final star is snuffed out, we find the darkest hour. A world pitch black and cold, devoid of any watchful celestial eyes. Where there is nothing, the end.” He collapsed when he came before her, heaving with a fit of gasps and wheezes. She towered above him, only hearing the thick whips of the fabric. Maybe it was a reflection, but there was a weird glow flickering out from the darkness of the hood, twinkling from passing snowflakes. Chris could only stare up in silence, one that was reciprocated for a long time before she gave an amused hmph. “A pleasure to see you again, thy fellow royal. How are you?” The blunt slam of the door rang out through the empty hallway, harsh punctuation to the sentence with the strange. Much stranger than he was accustomed to as he was busy living in the modern world. But now with a thin wooden barrier between them, in these moments, normalcy had returned. Later then he hoped for, but it was there, nonetheless. He stood and leaned against the door, letting out a long-deserved exhale. The kind that knocks out all the fluff from the mind and leaves fresh clarity. Wonderful clarity. Rational thinking. Common sense. …I fell out of a building. He drummed his fingers lightly and let his head hang limp, looking down at his feet. He realized now that he never put on his shoes. “Alright then.” He pushed off the door into the middle of the hallway. His body felt a lot heavier. And achy. Now realizing he’d personally tucked an alien to bed, he straightened out his shirt and gave a few light taps to his face. As weary as he was, he knew right now wasn’t the best time to sleep. Nor could he truly get into the headspace that would nurture it. The overall dinginess of the motel and the white noise of industrial hums didn’t bring about comforting thoughts. Only those of prior events that’d brought him here, to begin with. She was right, this place was a dump. He examined both sides of the hall. Down the right was nothing of importance, a few empty rooms led along by a stained carpet to a dead end by the janitor’s closet. The left side led down to the poor excuse for a lobby. It resembled more of a repurposed storage room, containing a few cheap lawn chairs placed by a worn coffee table holding a stack of useless brochures and out-of-date newspapers. The lightbulbs were yellow from age, buzzing in monotone over a foreign-looking front desk, presumably bought from across the border. None of it was too promising. He shambled down the hall towards the lobby, the lack of the thump-thump of shoes allowed him to catch on to a muffled commotion from behind. He stopped and glanced back to their room. A nervous tick buzzed around his lips. She was probably getting herself adjusted in bed, he thought to himself. He in turn, probably should’ve made a statement regarding boundaries while he was at it. If he woke up smelling like the stables, he was gonna be pissed. How was he gonna describe that? What was he supposed to say? “W-What?” He sputtered, trembling from a combined number of chills. He felt like he could count down the seconds of his life, matching up to the number of ribs poking from his starved barrel. The figure must’ve felt those same chills, as she reached out a hand to pull her cloak tighter. A slender, smooth, and very much blue hand. “Forgive me,” She responded, sounding a little disappointed, “I don’t mean to bug you for too long, I figured I’d drop by tonight to give you a friendly hello in a not-so-friendly place.” Another pause. “Comfortable? Relaxed? Or would you like your pedestal polished?” “No, I’m great. Just dandy.” He said with a tired snort. “Think you can see, life’s pretty cozy right now.” She let out a low chuckle, one that drained any energy he had for continuing sarcasm. “Ah, that’s a good one. I would compliment in saying you’ve retained your wit, but considering you never had much to begin with, that would be a lie. Instead, it would be a net positive, so congratulations.” He struggled to raise himself on his haunches. “Where am I?” She glanced around them for a second. “Hmm, I believe a certain somepony said it best the last time you two met properly.” Suddenly, more voices whispered through his head, as if buried deep within these haunting mountains. …What is this place? Somewhere you can’t hurt anypony. Wrong! I can hurt you! A split second of seething hatred. A splitting headache. “Not that she could’ve predicted the outcome of our last engagement, but I think the sentiment still stands true.” She finished with a hum of content. Chris could barely move, let alone speak. He was beyond amazed. Never before had someone spoken to him this long and made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Everything made less sense with each word passing through her lips. Though, it didn’t help that she spoke as this all-knowing godlike entity who could see everything in time. “You know I can hear you, yes?” He chirped in surprise. “Sorry, probably not, considering we’ve never met in the dream realm prior. I’m sure you can understand as to why, hopefully.” The dream realm? Visit him? The sting of snow in his eyes snapped him back into focus. He grimaced in pain and shook his head to get it off his muzzle. “I don’t…I don’t understand…who are you?” “You already know that.” “Uh, no, I don’t.” “Yes, you do.” She repeated, harsher in tone. He gulped, and tried again, raising a trembling hoof. “…Are you…supposed to be…Death?” Her shoulders raised slightly, and she let out another sigh. “Normally, I’d be offended being branded with such a vulgar title, yet the way you say it, it’s quite flattering. But no, not exactly.” In one swift motion, she swept her hands over hood and slid it down her neck. An explosion, spectrums of light and color engulfed her. He shieled his eyes with limbs bored where said eyes were located. The spectacle calmed down and he lowered them, with jaw following soon after. The entire Milky Way had condensed itself around her head, cascading swiftly at its own pace independent to the winds around them. Constellations, stardust, alien colors, the longer he gazed, the more it opened up as it curled from her scalp. Underneath the lightshow, she was coated in midnight blue fur, groomed to a polished shine like porcelain. And perched atop everything, he saw a long sharp appendage. A horn. All would’ve been interesting enough on their own. However, it was when he saw the rest of her facial features that caught him by surprise slightly more. “Horseface!” He screamed, skittering away in a panic. She rolled her eyes, giant blue orbs arcing underneath the crescents of her eyelids. “That would be ponyface, thank you very much.” She corrected with a snort. “Ponyface!” “I see your manners have remained intact, which makes your quadruped appearance all the stranger.” He was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown, mainly out of its own self-preservation. He tried to speak, to form a sentence that could convey properly what he was witnessing, but nothing would come. It was too much, too intense to comprehend. He only shivered in mute panic. The pony-faced woman seemed confused as well, and tilted her head slightly. “It appears the spell has had more interesting side effects than we thought previously. This must be lingering traces from his magic to cause such behavior.” “Spell? What spell? What do you mean by side effects?” He caught himself, as everything that’d occurred until that point rushed forward. What he’d done, what other’s had done, poured into his mind. Every word, every action, every motive. Once an ice cube, his body thawed out rapidly from boiling blood, and a fear-riddled mind gave way to ferocious anger. “It was you! You’re the one that did this to me, and everything that came after! You and that slimy bastard!” His shouting became an insect-like shriek, with clicks and chitters conveying his rage. The winds around them howled in agony, silent screams as they scrapped through the hard rock. She remained unfazed. “I’ve called him by many names, some of them brash, but a slimy bastard? No, that doesn’t suit him. I believe slithery bastard is more appropriate.” “I don’t care what you call him, that doesn’t change anything! Not! One! Thing!” “It most certainly doesn’t.” The muscles in her face were now tight and harsh on an otherwise youthful coat. He continued on his rant. “So what now, huh? You’re just gonna drag me here, while that slithery bastard gets to walk away scot-free, huh? Is that it?” The winds continued to bounce off the bare rocks and smooth hills. Almost if they weren’t a natural formation, and were instead placed there. Carefully set, piece by piece. Chiseled. “That is already set it stone.” …Fight. “Fuck that, fuck you, fuck everything!” He reared high in the air, wings flourished and horn glowing sickly green. “This life is mine, all mine! And if you think I’m gonna hand it over so easily, you’re gravely mistaken. You’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hooves!” These words struck their own individual nerves within her, as giant molars in her mouth ground themselves into nubs. A deep burning wave of anger burned through her, with a thermal blue aura singeing the black coat with a smolder. “Very well!” a loud rip was heard as she tore the robe from herself and threw it in the air. Disintegrating, the fine threads of the fabric unwound themselves until they were specks wrapped around her body. “While this is the first time we’ve met in this realm, it’s not the first time we’ve encountered. Each night, hundreds of nightmares plague Equestria, plunging many subjects into the abyss of fear, and lurking in the shadows, around each corner, under the bed, inside the closet, is you.” The light caused her clothes underneath to shift and stiffen, very bright, very thick. Steel, sharp as her tone, the light continued to whirl around her body’s new armor. Patches of glorious moonlight, exposing the elegant engravings etched into the plates. The scarily muscular cannons that were her legs had been revealed, showing her to be a satyr-like creature. As well as these strange markings were emblazoned on both hips. “Every night we cross, every night we clash, and every night…I vanquish you.” Moving to those hips, a flashing streak of light stretched into a thin line down to a tip. Razor-thin, like it could slice clean through anything-or anyone-that came before it. The ominous glow would make one shiver, yet she laid her steady hand on its hilt. “It’s about time we truly settled this score, mare to mare.” Her hand gripped tighter with a furious snort. “The Elements of Harmony had their triumph over your evil, but I’ve never gotten a proper stab at it myself. And now is the perfect time to finish this, before consciousness slips you entirely, and you’re nothing more than ink in the pages of history.” The last of the light swirled in the air, gathering and shaping itself, before shooting into her breastplate. It burned out in the middle, leaving the imprint of a glowing crescent moon. “What-does-that-even mean?” He shouted, “What does that have to do with anything? Answer me!” He pounded his hooves on the ground, spraying flakes around him. “I’ve had it up to here-here-with this shit!” “Then you and I are of one mind, as I too have had it with you continuing to play the fool, even as you stand before me.” Her eyes took on a dark shadow of determination. “But, if you’re having trouble remembering, perhaps this shall jog your memory.” In one move, as quick as a blink, her sword drew from its sheath and slashed at him. He leapt back as far as he could from her range, catapulting himself further using his wings. Though, her strength was enough to send him flying anyways, carried on a giant shockwave of snow. Tumbling through the air and pelted with debris, he collided with a dead tree and splintered to pieces. The energy tingled and popped around him, as if he was inches away from some space-age fireworks. Several emotions swirling through him, some even dribbling down the side of his leg. Scrambled thoughts, wild paranoia, waves of new information had crashed into him nonstop, leaving him alone on an island of confusion. Maybe not entirely alone, as the satyr was still out there, and her sword glowing bright and deadly. “There, did that ring any bells?” She questioned, while her star-speckled tail swished in perverse anticipation. The only thing ringing were his ears while digging himself from the snow. A hoarse cough filled his throat, and watched her slowly make her way towards him. Each step of her hooves pounded inside his head. Tired, cold, angry, he reached for a stick, uh, sticking out from the snow for support. Why, just why? This question kept repeating in his mind, louder and frantic. Why was this happening to him? Why was he being punished like this? Just then, heavy flurries twirled in the air, much like the light prior, gathering before him, creating an image of sorts. Another satyr, one far taller and even more furious. Fire, brighter than a thousand suns, a great burning danced across its figure. Looking down at him with judgement only reserved for a god. As soon as it appeared, it faded once more in a puff of snow, then parted like a curtain by his physical aggressor, emerging like a shadow. She stared down at him with an intensely bright glint in her eyes. “What…happened to me?” He didn’t mean to say it, but his head was hurting so much, it was impossible to keep his thoughts only on the inside. “You’ve already asked that, to which you already know the answer. Stop playing dumb.” She studied his frail and fractured frame like she was deciding which area would cause the most pain before he fell into that unconsciousness she so desired. “It may have happened so suddenly, there may not have been time to process it. All of it, over in a blink.” She placed the blade under his chin and lifted his head to look at her. “To put it simply, what happened to you and your co-conspirators was fitting, considering your crimes.” “What? Wait a minute, what co-conspir-“ “Enough.” She dropped him and readied the sword. “The time to end this has long since passed, but now will suffice.” A glare from the steel, the aura giving hint to its immense power. She saw eyes wide and glassy, unable to process what was before them. The same expression she saw on her little ponies every night for so long. Full of fear and terror, plunging deep into the deeps of a nightmare. “Take a good look, parasite, it’s the last time you will!” She struck down on her target with all her strength. Another explosion of stars ravaged the mountains, blasting outwards through the rock, and struck their base structure far in the distance. A giant mushroom cloud of snow and rubble showering the wreckage. When she cleared the smoke, she’d found the results she looked for. Nothing. Not a speck. Atoms were annihilated to an existence of nothingness. A crater of total cleansing. Satisfied, she sheathed her sword with a tiny smile. Pop. Her ears swiveled to the sound and turned fully to find an intact, very much alive bug clinging to a stick. He looked at her and gave a nervous buzz of his wings. She, in turn, extended her own pair with a loud fwoosh. Without missing a beat, he snatched the stick in his mouth and rocketed off, running across the remaining land. With one mighty flap, she took to the sky and went after her prey. As she flew across the dull pink sky, there was, however small, a crack of light peeking out between the clouds. The trek to the desk was slow, as he tried to approach in a calm yet cautious manner. He moved as if one wrong step would cause the whole structure to fall on his head. Which wasn’t entirely out of the question, given the current state of the building’s interior. Not to mention going even further on the state of business as a whole. For the past hour or so, he hadn’t seen anyone else. Not a single road-weary traveler wandering in or out, not even to use the parking lot to stop or turn around. He wondered if this was usual, or if it was an odd day. Odd because no one showed up, or the fact that someone did. He squinted as he walked into the front room from the dull-yet annoying lights hanging above. He’d taken notice of the person at the desk when he first walked in. A girl, around his age or so, was the one who saw to him in securing a room and didn’t seem too enthused in the process. Neither was he to be fair. No one was, especially not Chrissy. Unsurprisingly, she’d managed to nod off on her work, eyes closed with a pair of over-ear headphones plugged into a laptop, playing what looked like an episode of some TV series from the 90s. He wasn’t quite sure which one it was, none of them were of real interest to him. Which in turn, could lead to some awkward dinners, as his dates would quote quips, only to find a confused and disheartened look. Knowing now that the atmosphere, along with the night’s conclusion, wasn’t going to be as pleasurable as once envisioned. Standing before her now, he waited to see if she would stir from his presence, tapping his foot with the hand of the clock. Enough time had passed, and he instead tried to get her attention by forcing a cough. Nothing. He tapped his knuckle on the desk. Again, nothing. Finally, he decided to speak up, “Excuse me.” She awoke with a jolt, nearly ripping the laptop off the desk when her head whirled around. She finally calmed down when she noticed him and talked through a stretch. “Y~Yes, how can I help yo~u?” She yawned. She took off her headphones and ran a hand through her long frayed brunette hair. A muffled laughter track could be heard from around her neck. He mumbled to himself a little before continuing, leaning on the desk as he did. “Right, listen-uh-Jane,” He read the small plastic clip on her shirt, lopsided from her slump. He wondered why bother with a business like this given how small scale it was, as if it was going to be difficult remembering people's names and faces. “I’m going outside to make some phone calls, it should only take about thirty minutes or so. I have the key to my room still, but I thought I would just…let you…know.” His voice trailed off when he saw her increasingly annoyed expression. The color of her brow darkened with each passing word. “It’s fine, you’re like, the only person that’s checked in for tonight. Going from our, um, records and stuff.” She slurred on while clicking away on the laptop. He noticed, however, she was mostly pushing on the spacebar. “So, unless there’s something broken, or an animal’s looking to get in bed with you, whatever you brought with you will be safe.” That was enough for him, and determined she wasn’t going to be an issue tonight. She just wanted to be left alone, and could agree with that. Working a shift like this must be brutal, not to mention keeping her suspicions low. She wouldn’t go knocking on anyone’s door, only watching the front for would-be newcomers. Must get quiet. Very quiet. He shook his head lightly. “No, everything’s working about as well as it can, and there aren’t any unwanted guests looking to get close, heh-heh.” “As I said, safe and sound, easy peasy, yadda-yadda-yadda…” She trailed off into another yawn, “Go ahead and make your calls, and let us get some rest…me…let me get some rest.” He gave her a pitiful smile and stepped away from the desk. “Right, right, I was just checking with you to be sure. I rarely ever stop at motels, or hotels, or any kind of ‘tel, I tell ya. Sorry for disturbing you.” Suddenly, a loud noise, one with weight, boomed through the thick silence. Like a body being slammed against a wall, impossible to ignore. Chris did his best to act normal, suppressing the sense of shock and rising adrenaline, while she was busy undoing the tangled wire from her neck. “What was that?” “Nothing!” He quickly replied, making her flinch, “It’s nothing, I just…hit my leg on the desk on accident. Sorry about the spook…uh, thanks, I guess. I’ll be going now, have a nice night…shift.” He tried to laugh it off, feeling his cheeks redden to a near sweating heat. She glared at him for a moment, then decided she wasn’t up for turning this night into a graveyard shift and sheathed the daggers in her eyes as she went back to her computer. The sound from the walls on the other hand was another story. Perhaps she took his advice and was busy tucking herself into bed, maybe even becoming familiar with their crawling companions on the floor. That’s what he hoped at least, there wasn’t much more his heart could take at this point. With a nervous pivot, he shuffled away from the desk and made his way out the door and into the parking lot. The empty parking lot. Next to the empty road. Leading out to a very empty world. The slight breeze whistled through the air and around his body. Its octave gave the impression of an emotion he’d been trying to keep tucked within him, even since this very morning. Panic. The air had become dry and sour, speckled with the dark embers of righteous fury. Anger set all ablaze, whipping mad and slapped against the body in rhythmic waves. Time and time, it rose in temperature towards an oven’s bubbling embrace. This searing sensation stung as it seeped into the skin, cooking the torn muscle to a medium-well mush. Even through this, those muscles remained in motion, holding strong as the mind studied around quick glances of grey and white. Rocks were scattered around, and rising in number. The mind needed to know when to move, when to turn, when to jump. All to steer clear on a detour from death. It’d been around ten minutes when this chase began. It felt five times longer, and a hundred times more painful. Hard nail pounded on the packed earth, absorbing the impact far better than bare skin. Every few moments, that earth would rumble, and the pink sky would flash with the explosion of stardust. Mountains would shed their polar white caps, rushing down like rapids to wash over the lands. The mind was still searching, studying the area as best it could. But it was strapped with the blinders of panic, and could only focus on what was directly in front, looking desperately for an opening, a place where he could see a chance for escape. It’d worked before. He managed to slip the matador, the neighbor, the police, so it had to be somewhere here as well. Somewhere. Anywhere. As of now, there was only pale nothingness, as this color was being slowly blotted out to an empty white. …Maybe it was twenty minutes. Maybe it was no time at all. He’d placed the stick under a wing, doing his best to keep his mouth shut when running from the airborne assailant, lest a fang plunge itself deep into a tongue that’d gotten itself in more trouble than it could handle. Handle. What could he handle? What exactly could be handled? Every event right from this morning was nothing short of chaos, and to that point, it decided to remain steady and unchanging. The wind continued to whip and crack, keeping him aware of how close he was to her swing range. Not that it truly mattered. It was clear from her less armored sections that she’d cultivated a body of respect and dominance. Towering above everything with the wingspan of a jet, and a horn like a javelin. It also didn’t hurt to have those power magical abilities. But no, it didn’t matter. Showers of sparks overhead, and another loud rumble signaled a rock being decapitated nearby. The large chunks of debris shot into the ground below, their weight driving them deep into the snow. He jumped, ducked, working hard to avoid being squished like a…well, he wasn’t exactly one for puns right about now. Each moment exerted was sluggish, feeling like a punch in the gut from soreness. As these rocks fell, they sprayed snow in the air and creating a screen difficult to see through. A darkened figure appeared before him, and he planted his hooves and ducked over to the side. His mouth filled with a vile mixture of spit, dirt, and ripe raspberries. One of his legs smashed against an invisible rock, sending a paralyzing shock throughout his body like a stabbed nerve. The pain was intense, making his mind go blank, seizing in those precious seconds. His legs buckled and the rest of his body crashed into the ground in a lifeless roll. This was thousand times more painful. He was slow to get back to his hooves, and the echo of another pair reverberated on the rocks from his slow stride. Once stable, he keep his eyes laser-focused on her, while also trying to lick the sharpened splinters from his now bleeding gums. His breath was long and labored. “Fall after fall after fall,” She said in a low hiss, “Hard to believe you managed to infiltrate the Crystal Empire or Canterlot with any kind of success.” She stopped before him, staring down with a self-serving smirk. “Of course, that’s when you still had loyal drones aiding you in these ambitious endeavors. Not like now. Not with you alone.” The final words she spat with particular venom. Chris sucked in a large glob of snot and blood that was dripping from the muzzle. All of this stumbling and bumbling was doing absolute wonders on his immune system. If this kept up, maybe he’d have a mustache of icy green and nasty build-up. it wasn’t like he tried to before. After a whole 3 months, the only thing he had to show for it was a few short hairs on his chin. She continued, “I must say, the fall of queens are often more romantic and graceful in stories of old. Though, grace was never a strong trait of yours, if that mean mug you grace us with every day is to go by.” He felt shaky, drawing even shakier breath, with each labored puff thick and opaque. Pools of saliva sloshing over his tongue. Here was not a place to be tired, even if he could feel that drowsy doom creep over him slowly. Whatever conscious energy he had left would soon pass on this freezing wind, doing its best to hasten this eventual outcome. He wasn’t surprised by this cold behavior, he always hated this kind of weather whenever he went on vacation in the winter. Hobbled under layers and layers of clothing, watching the world shrivel and die for a few months. “Forgive me for not adhering to your customs, especially after you’ve insulted me, you cosmic cunt.” She gasped in mock shock and clutched her chest, “Ouch, that really stings.” “No, but this will.” At least, he hoped it would. The stick had taken a beating during his escape attempt, as the wood was worn and bruised. The coarse bark suggested it to be of oak, with the honeydew excrement sticking to his body. Its edge was now jagged and sharp, much like the horn stuck to his head. A splintered point, perfect for piercing the smug aura surrounding her. The satyr stared at him silently, as still like a deer in the headlights. Her giant blue eyes were glass, the galaxies of her mane swirled at random. Almost as if they were taken aback as much as they both were. Her muzzle scrunched. A snort. A giggle. A Big Bang of gut-busting laughter erupted from her. He felt his ears fold at the sheer volume of it. Each howl echoed deep throughout the mountains and vibrated his skeleton in an icy cold caress. A sharp stab of cold malice. After a while, she straightened herself and wiped away a tear. “Oh my, now that’s rich,” She choked down another chuckle and spoke clearly, “The disgraced queen of the changelings threatens to smite me down with a stick? Hilarious, simply outstanding! When sister hears of this, she’ll be rolling for days!” “That’s if her fondness for putting away pastries doesn’t achieve that first.” Said a low croaking voice he heard from within him. Unfortunately, so did the satyr. Her laughter stopped, robotic in nature, and her head snapped on target. “Then perhaps I’ll serve her your head on a silver platter. I hear from some of our allied nations that insects are a fantastic source of protein.” Her voice was inhuman, like two were speaking at once, neither with any feeling of empathy or remorse. Deadly serious. He'd never experienced something like this before, hearing someone speak to him in such a manner. Sure, he’d given and received several statements of ill intent in the past, but they’ve always lacked the proper bite to their bark. These were different, this terror within him stemmed from its guarantee. Wearing this grudge like a crown. But, no, he couldn’t let himself end here, not after everything. He needed to find a way to get out of here, lose this enemy and start tracking him down once again. Him. He could see him now, going back to the motel room, discovering the emptiness with a devious smirk on his face. Calmly packing his things back into the car and driving off into the night. His mission complete. He was merely a drone for the bigger picture. No. He wasn’t done. He was going home and heading for her next. He was driving there in his car, walking into his house. Going to meet face-to-face with… “Like hell you are! You don’t think I know what you’re planning?” He chucked the branch high into the air, twirling brightly in the cracked light of the sky, before catching it in a green aura of magic. “I’ll see you on your knees before he takes a single step! The only one who will be served here is you.” “Do you practice these in a mirror?” She responded with slight amusement, “I don’t blame you, I use such foalish exercises at times myself. Sometimes when sister’s not around, I’ll pull aside full-body mirrors and pose before them in full regalia,” She demonstrated as such, changing through various examples, “I like to imagine myself standing before our standard crowds, mainly those who come to court. I like to imagine how the light shines on my face, how smoothly my dress rest upon itself, how carefully my mane is arranged. Looking for the best angles, the perfect posture to convey to all. Indeed, it is foalish, but it’s quite effective on your confidence. Helps you find the face to put before the masses. Your place in publicity.” She stopped and looked back at him once more. The deep shadows were etched in the hard lines of her face. “However, they aren’t going to save you here, bug.” Electric blue light flashed around the sword in her hand. “If you wish to continue living in that daydream, all you’re going to find is a nightmare.” Hind muscles flexed and released like a cocked-hammer, exploding forward at an intense speed. The light of her sword became a shooting star. He moved fast enough, charging forward and ducked under the slash. The force behind it rattled his brain like before, but he managed to stay focused and tried to get an unfocused jab on her leg between the armor. He missed, as he galloped a few steps too far. Hooves planted hard to turn around. She followed up with a swing on the stick, bark splintering off loudly. The sound of the steel colliding was strange, an alien screech that vibrated throughout his body. Streams of light flew off like ribbons, illuminating sections of her bright armor. As soon as she was blocked, she made another. He managed to lunge out of the way and thrust forward like a lance, but it was still off as it scrapped over her shoulder plate. Left and right. High and low. Quick and slow. He blocked and jumped as best he could. Though, to be more accurate, he felt like he was being kicked around like a soccer ball. His innards burned, no need for a sword to feel this piercing pain. The flashing lights shot into his eyes like a strobe, creating abstract visions of whites, greys, and blues. Somehow, he could still see her face behind all the noise. She was calm and collected, her concentration focused solely on power. Whatever she was, she seemed well-versed in combat, even if it was slightly awkward since he was so low to the ground. Nevertheless, she still rushed him with a barrage of strikes. They did their job, as it was increasingly difficult to juggle the branch on wonky balance. Any energy to puncture was gone, he could only now keep himself from getting sliced to pieces. He hoped to gas her out from the nonstop swings. He reminded himself that he wasn’t dealing with something entirely human. Eventually, the two found their weapons clashing, and they came very close. In a moment of panic, he did something that in another life he’d be ashamed of, imaging how some could stoop so low and commit such an act of cowardice. Something one would never be able to live down no matter what they accomplished. He spat in her face. The glob was thick, filled with mucus and other bodily fluids. The vilest loogie he ever spat, and it managed to hit right on target. She whinnied and recoiled a step, her sword still on guard as a hand went to her face. He used this moment to gather whatever breath he had left, now realizing she hit him more times than he thought, seeing splotches of black across the snow. Her hand came away slowly, as if in shock from such an event occurring. An impossibility suddenly becoming possible. She looked at the greenish spit in her hand for a moment-a very quiet moment-and then turned back to him. Her eyes had taken on a slight slit. Her horn ignited, sparkling with tiny stars, and energy went down through her sword arm. The stamped engravings ignited galaxies across a plated universe. It reached the hilt, and she flipped the sword in her hand and drug it through the ground between them, casting the world in a blanket of pure white. The sound of the steel came quickly, and he raised his branch to meet her, even if he couldn’t be sure where she was. He was a few inches off. It cut down the side of his front left leg, it stung with a freezing burn. He fell back another step. She came again, blocking and falling a few steps more. A never-ending wave of wails washed over his now failing defense, chipping away at his chitin as much as the bark. Her power flung him back into one of the massive boulders that fell from the mountains. His back pinched on the sharp surface and knocked the wind out of him. She swiftly bested him, literally breaking his defense in half. Laid out, body exposed for dissection. Blue light flickered through the fog, showing her sword poised high for a downward arch. He shielded himself with his arms as best he could. He felt a strange energy release within him, and black liquid shot out from the wound on his leg, another projectile connecting with her. This caused her swing to be off by a few inches and chop down through the rock. Sparks from the sword erupted a massive flash of light, one vastly different from those of magic or steel. This light was vibrant as day. Its rays burned through the snowy void, revealing his opponent. He could see her face squinting, turning away and dropping her guard momentarily. He saw an opening, even if for a split second. He grabbed the longer piece of the branch and shoved it forward as hard as he could. It pierced through her hand deep, much like the holes of his hooves. She shouted in pain and her arm went stiff, with the other falling to her waist. A sigh of relief passed through his lips. Then, nothing. Everything became still, the winds died down, reducing the blizzard around them to mere flurries. He was waiting to see it. Dark red fluids wrap around the branch in streams. Drinking them raw and running down like veins. He waited, and waited, and waited. Her hand closed around the branch and pulled back, yanking him forward with its momentum. From the other, the blunt end of the hilt slammed into the side of his head. He flew face first in the snow several feet away, landing upright to see her tear the branch from her hand and toss it aside. “Hmm, can’t say that I’m very impressed with that display.” Her tone held genuine disappointment, “Your guard was passable for a time, and a good strike as well, but your movements were that of an amateur. I haven’t seen somepony move that uncoordinated for a very long time, especially not during our last little exhibition.” She twirled the sword right-around and turned to him. She was still examining the wound. “Though, I shouldn’t be too surprised by you moving as stiff as a board. Or a statue.” Chris let out a weird grunt in trying to respond, his mouth muffled by a mound of snow. It felt like the entire world was spinning, and he was right where he started in the beginning, in fact even worse now. He felt…distant, the fullness of the world slowly muddied over. “Your mouth has written checks your body cannot cash. I suggest you see to its spending habits, lest we chip off an arm and leg to pay for it. Take a lesson from sister, when you’re busy stuffing yourself, it keeps you from saying anything…regrettable.” He spat out the mush freezing on his teeth, and a couple of areas where they should’ve been. The rest of him wasn’t fairing any better. He couldn’t even begin counting the cuts and bruises lining most of his upper half, with many more scattered below the belt. Perhaps it was the cold’s doing, and unknown deeper trauma since he was completely numb to these injuries afflicting him. She was right, they did feel stiff as a board. He looked to the wound on his leg, and was in for another round of confusion. Inside the slice between the chitin, there was no blood, there was no flesh. Instead, a faint light of warm yellow. The type of hue that would only be made from an artificial source. Not only that, but he could hear something within it. He perked an ear and tilted his head. It was there, no doubt about it. The steady hum of an air-conditioning unit, and the small motor of a ceiling fan. He looked up to the satyr, noticing behind her was a similar light. Sprouting from the innards of the boulder, a makeshift window appeared. It peered into a world, a room that was too worryingly familiar. A wall, pair of beds, lamp, door. A bedroom door. “But as for me, I’ve had my fill for the night, I’m satisfied.” She swiftly sheathed her weapon and calmly readjusted her mane. The burning stars in her hair simply twinkled now and resumed their slow billow. “Thank you for the spar, I’ll see myself out.” Upon seeing all of this, he had an idea. “No…you’re not.” Chrissy had a very simple idea. He’d been sitting there for far longer than anticipated. He felt like he could’ve fallen asleep already, with the only thing keeping him aware of waking reality being the steady rumble of the idle engine. A hand rested upon the wheel, the other blinding him with the screen of his phone. Kicking himself internally for forgetting to use dark mode once again, like the other hundreds of times before. Going dark, he wouldn’t mind doing that right now. To private altogether and drive out under the cover of night, with the moon being his only GPS to ignorant salvation. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea right now,” He thought to himself, “It’s not like she wants me around anyways, no matter how much she wants to play nice. If I leave her alone for a while, she’ll be gone as soon as she arrived. Scurry off to another part of the country, maybe even the world if you give her enough time.” He went still for a moment, letting this idea soak in his mind, then nodded in approval. “Distance. If we can just get some distance between us, then her looking like me won’t be that big of an issue. Probably. I wouldn’t care too much, as long as she behaves herself.” Though, behavioral stability seemed a bit far-fetched at this point, given her episode earlier. Feeling the ice-cold shoulder in a bout of boastful ego-flexing, only stopped through the use of scratching to knock her off that high horse. Wait, she was already a horse, so would he only knock her over instead? Is that what that sound was? He sighed and massaged his forehead. All this supernatural nonsense was starting to give him a supernatural headache. To think all of this was going on when he should’ve already gotten ready for class tomorrow when he should already be asleep…or in front of his computer to be realistic. And its timing couldn’t have been more frustrating if it’d tried. Almost as if it waited for the exact moment it could maximize the amount of pain located in his rear-end. The fall semester had started just a few weeks ago, and like most people, he was still a little confused about finding his way around campus. He’d even accidentally walked into the wrong rooms at times, and be subject to that awkward silent group-stare from everyone inside. Now, they’re gonna start worrying about their dorms spontaneously exploding on a whim. Even worse if they happened to be like him, and were still recovering from that four-year fever dream that was high school. Despite now being able to reflect, he could never really see what he was supposed to put into it, nor what he was getting in return. Movies, as they so often do, had painted for him a grandiose picture of these teenage tribulations. That within these hallowed halls lay a Shakespearean tragedy for each individual forced to act out their part. A whirlwind of joy and suffering sprinkled with triumphs, lusts, and betrayals. Beautifully broken youth lashing out against a cruel world in adolescent rebellion all wrapped up in a package of dark comedy. Something not understood in its own time, but will come to fruition with age and experience. In reality, he only got a flimsy piece of paper and this weird disease known as expectations. He wasn’t quite sure where he contracted this ill-timed illness, for there were many potential carriers. Most likely someone who’d come down with it previously. For most of them, they managed to find a cure through some form of employment. As for the unlucky few, their condition had turned terminal, truly a fate worse than death. He knew he was going to be infected at some point, a part of why he thought seeking higher education would be a good remedy. Squeak out a few more years of freedom and low involvement while looking for the right treatment. And now he was faced with an even greater fear, for he might’ve become the first catcher of a whole new bug. There was definitely something bound to be amiss, judging from that green goo all over the place, not to mention getting shot in the chest from her hornbeam. Guess he should’ve used protection. Like a pillow. Or a baseball bat. He pulled the lever to lean his seat back fully. Any attempts of finding out what she was, where she came from, or any other kind of information was unsuccessful. In regards to alien accusations, it was mostly the standard affair. Sightings of flying UFOs. Little grey men with large heads coming down to steal livestock. Flashes of green light in now-demolished sections of a forest, leaving behind stripped trees and circular patterns of strange symbols burned into the ground. Mostly the standard affair. “C’mon, someone somewhere must’ve seen something at some point.” He grumbled to himself. But considering her ability to blend in with others by becoming others, he wasn’t too surprised at finding nothing. Sighing once more in defeat, he turned off the screen and laid it on his chest. Turning his attention towards the car’s open sunroof. Many nights just like this one he spent doing this very act, though, it’d been a while since he did it alone. Well, maybe he wasn’t entirely alone come to think of it. It seemed like the world had heeded to his woes, supplying him with a gorgeous night sky. Thick shades of violet-blue, as if plunged into the sunken depths of the ocean. Stars were painted by a manic hand, splattered and sprayed across the dark canvas from a frayed brush. But it didn’t matter, not one bit. Anything was better than nothing in these small hours. He always enjoyed the stars and watching as they glimmered in the bright moonlight. Plus, it made it easier to pick out any pesky varmints that were prowling out in the fields. Helped him work on his aim. “Speaking of help,” He brought his phone above his face and tapped on the contacts and scrolled through a shortlist of names. “It’d be real nice to hear another voice other than mine and, well, mine.” Before he placed the call, he looked over to check on the motel room. Nothing. No movement, no sounds. Nothing. He shrugged and tapped on the name, staring blankly at the icons as the phone began the flat buzzes. It rang through a few cycles more than normal. He groaned in frustration. “C’mon, c’mon, pick up the phone you fucking prick.” He nervously rapped his fingers against the back cover. The ringing cut off abruptly. “…” He was about to speak when he heard a series of coughs and shuffling sheets. “Hello? Whoisthis?” “He-e-ey, Roman!” “Hmm, Chris? Is that you?” “Yup, it’s me, dude! Good, uh…” He glanced over to the radio’s clock. “…morning, man!” “Yeah, it is a good morning…it’s three in the morning!” “Aha-ha, right, right! That it is…it is indeed.” Heavy silence. “So, uh, how’re you? Doing good?” “I was…asleep. Very happily so,” He said flatly. “And if you’re just making a social call, I guarantee whatever it is can wait for the sun to come up.” “Heh…well, uh, it really can’t actually. The thing I got going on, well, its pretty fucking serious.” “Serious?” “Yes, serious.” “Like serious serious?” “Yeah, serious serious.” “Seriously serious?” “Seriously serious.” “Like, wake me up at three in the morning in the middle of nowhere after not talking for a week straight, kind of serious?” “Seriously?” Chris grumbled and pinched his nose. “Sorry, the past couple weeks have been rough for me. This semester’s started out as one big mess and I’m still trying to salvage through the debris. No, I haven’t been blowing you off. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve turned to about this.” “That serious, huh?” Chris heard him move around as he cleared his throat. “So, what’s got you all riled up this time? You know I might start charging extra for our unscheduled sessions, Chris.” “Harr-harr, very funny. Though, funny is one way of describing this situation.” “Weird, I thought you just said that it was serious-“ “Stop. Stop saying that.” He looked back towards their room. He could’ve sworn he saw some movements, a slight rustling of the curtains here and there, but ultimately nothing of importance. “…I’m listening.” “Earlier today, like way early in the morning, I was sitting around in the dining hall, trying to wake up from pulling an all-nighter on a paper. Let me tell you, it was a long ass night, man.” “Is it gonna be on the test?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means stay on topic, dude.” He grumbled again, “When I was there, I saw this…girl. Freshman, foreigner I think, a real looker. Yeah, pretty…captivating.” He gave a forced chuckle and adjusted himself in his seat. “Me and her met up sometime afterward, started talking. Ended up in my room eventually and…well, one thing led to another, and suddenly we were running off campus. Not sure we’ll be able to go back for a while, so we’re staying at a motel out on the road right now.” The receiver was silent, as Roman took in all of this information. He grunted in approval and spoke. “Geez, that sounds heavy, Chris.” “I know,” He added. “Everything just happened so fast. I could barely even get a chance to breathe.” “I’m surprised, truly. That’s gotta be a new record for you from greets to sheets, not even taking a full day.” “Huh? No, no, it’s nothing like that, it’s a bit more intense.” “Oh my, am I to believe that a little Chris is on his way soon?” “No, man! It’s nothing like that, nobody is coming.” “Then nothing’s out of the ordinary, I see.” “Fuck you, asshole! This is serious!” “Thought you said not to use that word anymore?” Before Chris could politely respond with a carefully crafted list of expletives, Roman piped up quickly. “Alright, that’s enough ragging you for waking me up, sorry…but real talk, you didn’t knock her up, right?” “No.” “Oh thank god.” He sighed in relief. “But, ok? I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve talked about a situation like this. Usually, they turn out pretty well. Some better than others,” Chris grimaced upon hearing that. “What’s so different about her that you need to leave campus?” “Different, hmph, that’s another nice description.” He moved his seat into the upright position. “Let’s just say, there was an incident in my dorm…building-dorm building, that’s made it uninhabitable for the time being. We’re on our way back home at the moment so we can try and sort this whole situation out.” “We?” Roman asked surprised. “Why is she tagging along? If the dorms are that bad, why doesn’t she just go home to her folks?” Yeah, about that, “That’s…not an option.” He said quietly, running his hand over the steering wheel. Another long silence. They were becoming far more suspicious with each second. “Not an option, why?" "It's just not." "Why?" "It's just not, ok?" "...Su~ure, alright then. Does your mom know about all of this?” “Yes.” He said, feeling a bead of sweat run down his nose. “I thought you just said I was the first-“ “Look! The reason I’m calling is to ask you a favor. How far away are you from where we live? Like an hour and half or something?” “Uh...” There was a pause, "I would say a little over two, but sure." “Right, so, you think you could just…swing by? Tell your professors it’s an emergency or something. Make it sappy enough and they won’t care.” “You want me to come see you both?” “Just come back for a day, alright? I would really, really appreciate it. Please, Roman?” He failed in part to hide the fear in his voice. He looked back to their room once more. That previously rustled curtain now found itself cock-eyed and half hanging limply off the rail. “Fine, I can do that, but you’re gonna tell me what the heck is going on here the second we see each other, got it?” “Yeah, got it.” “Good, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna try to enjoy the rest of the night before morning comes knocking. Good night.” “It’s already morning, dude.” “Shut up. Good night.” The ending click was quick, releasing a ton of pressure as he deflated in his seat. Whew…that was way harder than I thought it’d be. And probably far less intelligent. But what’s done is done. He ran his hand through his hair, and looked back down to his phone. Tapping another finger against it. He felt his body start to heat up quickly, feeling far more tired. Does your mom know about this? …Yes. “Shit, if I tell her this, she'll explode on me for being so stupid...ah, man...” The feelings of his fingers grew numb with each swipe of the screen. All until his thumb hovered over her name. Suddenly, a bright flash of light appeared from the motel room, followed by the thrashing and thumping of a body against the walls. “Jesus!” He shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin. Without thinking, his hand dropped his phone and gripped tight around the steering wheel, and the other shifting immediately into reverse. That’s it, this is too much. Time to tap out while he was ahead before something worse came for the both of them. Tail firmly planted between his legs. Time to leave, right-fucking-now. Sitting panicked and clenched, he thought it over as the muffle cries of anguish and sporadic thumping continued through the windows. Each pounding drove further into his head, each one louder than the last. Louder than anything else outside. Slowly, he found his white knuckle grip on the wheel loosening. He growled in frustration. "Arrgh! Why do I do this to myself?" He shut the car off and leaped from his seat, wincing slightly from the pokes of loose gravel and trash piercing through the cotton chainmail. He ignored all of these issues, focusing on the major problem now as he hurried to the front door. The satyr stopped and turned at this proclamation, her brow twisted with sudden confusion. The words themselves seemed impossible to hear. Somehow, the one before her was able to smile, their teeth smeared in pools of black. They raised a hoof and pointed at her. “What you said…about being satisfied…no, you’re not.” They drew a long breath, a clicking-gurgle in the back of their throat as they did, “You’re not satisfied, how could you be after a showing like that? Is that really where you want to leave this off, especially when you’re so close to finishing? If I were you, I wouldn’t hesitate. I would go for the throat, and end this once and for all!” “But I’m not you. And yet, your reign of terror has been put to an end all the same.” She returned to her calmness, her voice carried little passion, yet her face still slightly twitched with annoyance. “Equestria is safer with you out of the picture like this. So yes, it is indeed over.” “Over?” Chrissy hissed. They rose to their hooves and started shambling towards her. “Like hell it’s over, we’re just getting warmed up.” She held up her hand. “Don’t, your body is already scarred with defeat, don’t insult me any further with a frivolous attempt at a fight. Rest now and see to your wounds. You may even discover what pushed you to do what you did that led you to this very moment. Perhaps there, you’ll find that light of clarity just before you slip into darkness. I, on the other hoof, am going to see to my duties of the Dream Realm. My little ponies need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is a bright and sunny one, and I must make sure they’re ready come morning. Ta-Ta, bug.” “Oh, is that the reason why? If this task were so dire, then why take the time to come and visit me? Surely this little spat must throw off your rigorous schedule. Unless, you came here on a personal agenda?” Their voice took on a cruel hiss, letting out a chittering chuckle, “Could it be you haven’t felt as strong as you have in the past recently? Has si~ister been having doubts, your peers, your subjects? Has ruling with a soft tongue and a strong hoof eluded you?” “Like I have any use for vanity such as that. My respect has been solidified as our power is redistributed. Ponies will still look up to me, even in my retirement.” “You’re retiring? Ha! I can see why. Many of your mishaps needed to be wiped clean in a bright celestial wave. Are you looking to…impress? To show one last time you were worthy of your credentials? Previous events have certainly made it difficult. Hard to be high and mighty when you’re hanging haplessly in a cocoon.” They continued to laugh, watching her face grow a dark scowl. The blue fur slowly became black. “So go! Serve your peasants! I’m sure they’ll repay you happily in time, that is until you’re forgotten, shrouded in your sister’s shadow!” Her hand came down like a hook, swift and precise in the arc. Chrissy felt a tearing pain as they were lifted by their jagged horn to her muzzle. The fur around her entire body was as black as the void of space. Ferocious slits in her eyes, and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “You certainly have a glutton for punishment, filthy fucking parasite.” If death had a voice, this is how she would speak. A voice, devoid of life. Unfeeling brutality. They felt another strain on their skull and floated higher in the air. The grip around the horn tightened. “If you’re enjoying what I’ve been providing you, then why don’t I give you a double helping?” There was a pull in the stomach, and they started to spin. Faster. Faster. Faster. The skeleton felt like it was going to push through the walls of their flesh. The pressure in their head was suffocating. She released them, firing like a bullet directly towards the ground. Below them, scattered small dots of black were rapidly growing in size by the second. They were sharp all over. They braced as best they could. The impact drove spikes of pain straight through their body, as if their organs burst on the bones. How falling from a building would’ve gone had they not saved themselves earlier, something that couldn’t be accomplished here. They hit so hard, the rock broke apart and they ricocheted into the snow. There wasn’t a moment to process before the satyr picked them up again, jerking their leg out of its socket. She spun them around to throw into another rock. Pained shrieks escaped their fractured jaws, croaking vocals to this cacophony of punishment. Forget soccer, this was a sport of a distinctly American flavor. Concussions and all. The environment crumbled further, turning rubble to rubble in malicious mitosis. They could feel heavy reverberation with each pounding, theirs was no safety net. Not by a long shot. Chris looked through the smudged glass. Good, she was still sitting at her desk, finally managing to fully fall asleep while the screen painted colors on her face. He didn’t need any more surveillance, the moon overhead was already doing that enough. Lying in wait in the darkness of its heavy crescent. He carefully inched the door forwards, trying to muffle any noise of bumps as it scratched across the tiled floor. He went inside and shut the door using his thumb to place it in the jamb. He went quiet for a second and examined her further. She hadn’t moved, her headphones remained firmly cemented to her cranium. Dead asleep. In fact, her skin even looked a shade slightly paler. He continued past her slow, then breaking into a brisk jog when far away enough. He came up to the door where the sounds were their most frantic, like the whole room was going to fall in on itself from the noise. He fumbled for the key in his pocket. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be anywhere near this door. Anybody else with enough sense wouldn’t, he even had the means to leave out in the parking lot. But no, it was only the loud rumbles of his gut taking over. He jammed the key in the lock and forced it. It wouldn’t budge. Again. “Dammit Chrissy, you got a real bad habit of very specific property damage, you know that?” He pushed against the door, cursing under his breath for not grabbing his shoes. His toes dug into the old carpet as his shoulder began to throb, constant jolts of static reminding him of his stupidity all over his body. Paused after what felt like an eternity, Chrissy laid sideways in the snow shivering with pain. Barely able to breathe with their warped ribcage. The satyr came from behind, lifting them again in front of her. Even though it was blurry from the blood-soaked film, they could still see the rage radiating off her, a thermal aura that melted the snow around her. “There,” She growled, “Do you feel satisfied now?” “Satisfied?” Chrissy coughed, streams of black spewing out of their mouth. They held onto their stomach and looked at the satyr with another smile. “Not quite yet, perhaps if I were to have…one more taste?” The sounds continued from behind the wood, while strange lights flickered through the cracks of the doorframe like open electrical currents. He was sure that whatever was going on, it could also be seen from the window, and in turn, any car passing by. It was at that moment, that a plan started to form. A really stupid plan. He backed himself against the opposite wall and pushed off, rushing shoulder-first at the door once again, only harder. He closed his eyes and braced, expecting either one of two results: A hard slam and another cracked door, or a concussion and a whole heap of embarrassment. He might even get both for the price of one. What a steal. He waited. And waited. And waited. Soon that outcome arrived, only it wasn’t a face full of wood, but instead a mouthful of carpet. He opened his eyes and looked behind him, realizing now that he'd fallen to the floor. The ever so annoying door was now showing its other face. However, the thing was still shut. As if it were never touched at all. "Huh..." He groaned as he got up from the floor, "Strange to say that's not the strangest thing I've seen today." His attention to the door was stopped by the muffled screams and loud rips cutting through the air. Once he did turn around, he immediately wished he hadn't. Her gaze stared deep into their battered face, as if mentally taking stock of how much damage she had caused in her attack. They wondered if she was comparing it to any similar occasions, with bodies to display her effort. Like a hunter with rows of bucks lining the walls. There wasn’t any necessity to this, no, this was purely for the trophy. She smirked and gave a small nod. “Very well, ask and you shall receive, for I have something special cooked up for you.” The satyr grabbed them physically, strong muscles in her arm bulged with immense power. Chrissy’s body was tossed in a rainbow throw. They flopped around in the air, looking like a limp clay pigeon, making no attempt to recover. There was a few seconds of nothing, a pause in everyone’s movement. Then, a flash of light engulfed them, and the satyr unleashed a huge magic beam straight from her horn. The pain. The burning. The inescapable, screaming suffering. It was so widespread, there was no way to comprehend it, no single point to focus on in their body. It was a whole new sense of existence, tearing psychotically at the worn flesh and grabbing them from within and torching their very soul. Tartarus. Controlling the beam, the satyr drove them towards the ground once more, laughing maniacally as she did. White. Black. Rocks. Collision. A massacre. Bloody ribbons sprawled across the walls and beds. Writhing pulps of gore, infesting the air with a dull iron stench. Twisted entrails were shredded and stuck to the fabric of the carpet, soaking it into a deep maroon. All were projected on the back wall, as silhouettes appeared from an overturned lamp on the floor. The only traces of her left was chips of black shell poking out. Her horn. Chris could’ve broken his nose with how hard he facepalmed. She’s an alien, idiot, did he really think that she was going to figure out the concept of a bed without screwing it up? He hurried over to try and resolve this problem, reaching around at the squirming pile of sheets, having to pull back every time she moved. “Ah! Hey, watch the tail-easy! Hold still, you’ve-ouch-you’ve got this twisted around your legs. No, no-ack-calm down, girl! Chill out, it’s cool, everything’s cool!” That was the problem. The room felt like a freezer, seemingly cranked about as low as the air conditioner could go, and then some. Goosebumps went up his arms, feeling most of the cold resonating from within the pile. A mourning cry called out from it. “Chrissy, you ok in there?” “…She…she’s…coming…she’s coming…” “Yeah, hopefully not, if you stop thrashing around, that is. Give me your arms.” He finally got hold of her hooves and started unwrapping the sheets. Far easier said than done, as she had double-triple-quadruple knotted the fabric around herself. They even managed to feed through her larger holes somehow. she continued to mumble, her back legs kicking occasionally. He eventually got her free and unwrapped the larger half of her upper body. Upon doing this, he quickly stepped back in shock. What was once a tall-albeit scarred-mare, was now a shriveled husk. Wrinkled and withered, the shell had faded into a lifeless grey, and the chitin flaked off from all of her rolling around. The hair dried and crusty was wrapped around her head, covering up a terrified face gasping for breath that never came. He’d seen this scene before, more times than he ever cared to. The final fleeting moments in an animal's mind before they pass on from this mortal coil. Often slow, painful, and confusing. You can see it in their eyes, really. Even after they’re gone, the memories remain in those glass spheres. Every last second. The collision, the shattering of bone and shell against the stone sounded like a symphony of triumph. The great battle hymn of a fight raged for years, ringing out for all to hear in all corners of the world. The satyr took the blade and gracefully sheathed it and exhaled. It was over. Finally. “…Special…” A snort of confusion. She turned and looked at the dust settling at the impact site, and finding the being that still remained. Their body was almost completely deconstructed. Large sections of their shell were scorched to pieces of charcoal and ripped off. The translucent abdomen had ruptured, swimming in black liquid and the punctured organs. Their limbs were skeletal, chunks of them poking out from the innards. The face she saw was under a veil of open wounds and debris, and an eye gouged by the broken horn. “Yes, I…love specials.” They croaked. “What are you talking about?” She asked, taken aback by the mutilated corpse, much more with its tone of confidence. …Alright… Her ears perked to a completely different voice. …So, are you still hungry? One distant, desperate, and distinctly male. The damaged rock was split open from the force, revealing now the smoldering yolk. It was blurry, like a fogged window, but they could see something. A room. A bedroom of sorts, seeing bedframes and sheets sprawled out under a yellow artificial light. In the middle of the cracked window, there was an out-of-focus entity. A face. “What happened to you?” He asked through a grimace. He backed off another step to give her more room. Each twitch made his heart sink just a little more each time. The sheets around her reminded him of a mummy. Or a cocoon. “…Hungry…so…hungry…” “You’re hungry, is that what’s causing…this?” He asked, waving a hand over her. “Hunger…feed…” He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. “Uh, ok, we didn’t get anything since this morning, so I guess that makes sense. Didn’t know it would do this though, shit.” He went around the room and searched the contents the motel puts out for the guests, opening the dressers and checking behind the cabinets. There was nothing substantial. The drawers were empty, the microwave wiped clean, and the carpets had been vacuumed. This was the only time he found somewhere following proper business etiquette, and somehow, it was actually a determent to him. “Sorry, Chrissy, there isn’t anything here. All I got are these little coffee pods for that Keurig. What’re we supposed to do, suck on the beans?” Suddenly, he felt something grip his leg. “Warmth…” She whispered. The shivering started to die down. “Chrissy, that’s my leg.” She didn’t answer, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. “Chrissy, let go.” The bones of her neck popped as she turned to him. Her eyes were wide, submerged deep in bloodshot rings. “Warm food…feed.” She hissed as she bared her fangs, the saliva around her gums bubbled in a greenish foam. Her body tensed up. The sheets flourished in a red whirlwind. Which in turn twisted her tail. Which in turn twisted his leg. Chris felt his whole body contort, and was quickly swept off his feet and yanked down to the floor. In a tight pull, his legs snapped shut and his arms were crushed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. In the span of a second, she snagged him unguarded and trapped him inside a roll of sheets. They were lying face-to-face with each other as she eyed him down with a quizzical stare. “Hey! Let me go!” He squirmed in the roll, only tightening the grip and pulling him closer to her. She moaned softly with a little drool dripping from her lips. “Chris…” “What? Is there a reason you just put a death roll on me? Cause it better be a good one.” Her breath was thick, which kept hitting him in waves as she gave him a puppy dog look. “You’re…so warm.” “Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it-“ He felt a long slimy tendril glide up his cheek, icy to the touch. It made him shiver as she glazed it over her teeth, letting out a purr of satisfaction. “Warm, and tasty. Very tasty.” She scooted towards him till their noses nearly touched. She wrapped all four legs around his body and gave him a full taste of the irises. She whispered in his ear, “I want…more.” Those eyes flashed a flicker of green. He could feel the chills seep down the rest of his body. “Now Chrissy…uh, we hardly know each other. This kind of thing is only reserved for a very special occasion.” “Special, yes, I love specials.” She rubbed her hooves against his back. He fidgeted again, making her smile. “…Alright…” He gulped, “…So, are you still hungry?” “Yes…” She replied, caressing a hoof on the back of his head. Her eyes shined brighter than ever, “And you will satisfy quite nicely.” “What is that?” “Yes…” Chrissy responded to the figure, caressing the rock and hoisting themselves up to be face-to-face with them. They smiled with what teeth they had left, “And you will satisfy quite nicely.” They whispered. The satyr watched as their eyes rolled back and their mouth began to open. Wider. Wider. Unhinging like a snake. “No!” She shouted and launched forward with a mighty flap of her wings. But she was too slow, too far away to stop them. She saw the glazed look of ecstasy as they absorbed a large cloud of pink mist, sparkling and swirling full of energy. They were consuming every last bit of this figure, sucking off the very facial features and skin color, making them a near colorless pale. As she flew closer, the structure of the being became vaguely familiar. Otherworldly, yet close by. One that her sister’s disciple had studied for many years. A green shockwave sent her tumbling backward, and she had to right herself with a few beats of her wings. She caught her breath, as nerves ignited throughout her body. Putting her on high alert, now knowing victory had moved its goal post. After completing their feast, they pulled away with a large smile, licking their lips several times over, and let out an uncouth belch. “Now that was satisfying, really hit the spot.” Said the now very healthy looking horse. “Who…what was that?” She asked, pointing an accusatory finger. “This?” Chrissy asked, swishing her tail over the hole, “It’s nothing important. Just another piece of rubble to be discarded.” They ignited their horn and pointed to the rock. She felt a rush of anger, forced to watch it shatter to pieces. “After all, you’re right, I’ve been defeated. Utterly defeated. You can go on about your business, I’ll chill out here.” She let out another enraged snort. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, and I’m not going anywhere until I get it out of you.” “Want to keep fighting, hmm?” They asked, and flicked a hoof to clear film from their face, now shiny and full, even with the small holes scattered about. “So be it, thy fair maiden, we shall duel once more! But,” They clasped their face in an exaggerated gasp. “Oh no, our battlefield! It’s in ruins!” Their jokes fell on deaf ears, as the satyr scowled at their antics. “With all of this mess, where shall we continue our conflict? Perhaps-“ “-Here?” The satyr jumped at the sudden whisper tickling her ear, and she swung at her side. It only cut through the air, as Chrissy vanished just before the steel met their skull. She recomposed herself and stepped back, looking around the mountains. She cursed herself for letting them get enough strength back to continue fighting. “Maybe over here?” They popped into view on her left, waving a hoof mockingly. She swung again, this time only hitting a rock and slicing it in two, the inside melting from the sword’s heat. “What about over here?” “Stop!” “Or here?” “Enough!” “Oh-oh, over here! This one’s got a great view!” “Silence!” She shot at them with her horn, holding the sword loosely as she caught her breath. Sporadic lines in the snow where it was dragged. A cut and run strategy, she never thought highly of those combatants. It wasn’t the way she was trained. Those methods were cowardly. Back then, a soldier’s name could be tarnished for generations if they committed these actions. Unless they were ones who worked in the shadows, and even then there was the potential for shame. “There’s no point to this. Jump around all you want, I will catch you.” They appeared again. “True. Now that I think about it, this spot is just fine, I have plenty to work with.” Their horn lit up again, its green aura dripping with pure evil. The satyr wiped sweat from her brow and readied her defense. Whatever they were planning next, she could take it. She had to. As far as she was aware, they’d made no inklings beforehand they knew of this other world’s existence, nor of its capabilities of magic. She had made sure of that. Absolutely sure. The spell they were casting wasn’t being prepped for the standard frontal blast. Instead, they seemed to channel it throughout their hooves and send it in the ground, sinking deep like poisonous roots as it glowed through the snow. A ground now filled with rocks. Lots of rocks. Large and small. Blunt and sharp. Hundreds. Thousands. She slowly looked up, mouth slowly becoming agape at the sight of it all. Chrissy had formed a giant suspended storm of stone rumbling with the deep groan of powerful magic. Most of them were swirling in currents internal to the formation, flashing with sparks of green energy as they smacked against each other. She took a nervous step back. “I sure hope that blade is tuned, cause I wanna hear it sing!” Chrissy shouted and released their attack upon her. A rushing tidal wave of rock directly at her. She tried to cast a personal defensive spell to shield her body, but it proved useless. She didn’t have enough energy needed for a full shield, nor could it last the whole duration. Halfway through, the spell would give way, leaving her open to a face full of rock, and she didn’t look good holding her teeth. It was better to go for an offensive approach. She fed magic through her sword and would use that extra power to chop through them quickly. As it came over her, she struck. Each slice tore through hundreds of pebbles pellets, finally eroding them to dust. Energy passed through the rocks, mixing their magic with her own, cracking with long flashes of hot blue lightening. It reminded her of an asteroid belt, the kind she would see night after night when completing her nightly duties. However, she never wanted to see them this close. But there were too many. Dozens of rocks passed by her swings. They collided into her armor, keeping the full force of their speed even after impact, punching giant dents into the plates. She brought her arms close to guard her upper body, leaving her lower half exposed. The debris shifted its target immediately. Her knees were obliterated, causing her to lose her balance and be propelled across the ground with the force, eventually stopping face first in the snow. Groaning in pain, she used her sword to lift herself up, now shaking uncontrollably. Luckily for her, the midnight blue fur would do well to cover up bruises. Giddy laughter could be heard from beside her, and the dancing of hooves. “Wow! That was so much cooler than I thought it was going to be. You looked like you were fighting a raging ocean in space, pretty cool.” Chrissy cheered from atop a high rock. “More like cruel,” She wheezed, “Cruel, cowardly…” “Calculated?” “Hardly.” The land had been glassed, mountains fracked into nothingness. The snow was swept away, only leaving patches of white amongst the muddied green and black. The pink sky was still present, and a faint shimmer was on the horizon. Inching. Creeping. She raised her sword again, only now it was lacking in proper form. “You still got more in the tank, really?” “Enough of this, who’s that other being you’re working with?” “I thought you said I had no loyal drones?” “Answer me!” “Not with that tone.” They replied and stuck out their tongue. She lunged at them, but they sidestepped. They reared and went to buck her head. She jumped back and snatched one of their legs. “I’ll slice you open if I have to, Equestria will not suffer another one of your vile schemes.” She threw them over her head towards the ground. They teleported, only leaving air to rustle the grass. She heard a pop overhead. They were falling at her fast, fangs bared wide. She raised the sword to block, and they bit down on the steel. She pushed them back while sliding the sword, slicing the corners of their mouth. They stepped back and spat. Her energy was starting to dwindle, but she couldn’t let this plan go any further, it must be killed in its crib. Chrissy used her horn to shoot a continuous beam toward her. She was just barely able to block it, seeing light pop off the steel like fireworks. She used her wings to rush forward. Chrissy refused to move as she closed the gap, as their face appeared slightly blank, like most of their concentration was focused on the spell. This was her opening. The noise of the beam went higher, and she felt her ears fold. They stopped their attack, just in time for the broadside of the blade going into their face again. They stumbled in shock, eyes wide and confused. She moved her sword to her wingtips and switched to hitting them with her hands and hooves. She wasn’t going to lie, their plates of chitin crushing under her fist was a wonderful sound. Like the songbirds chirping in the gardens. She cracked their chin with an uppercut and brought the sword back to her hands and crouched low. She rammed the sword as hard as she could through their guts. Chrissy froze, letting out a muted grunt. Then a rattling wheeze. Their wide eyes became vacant. She forced the hilt and twisted it clockwise, spraying black liquids and churring the innards like a thick cream. She grabbed the film on the back of their head, the slimy sweat coating her palm, and jerked them close. “Tartarus awaits you, do you hear me, villain?” She went closer to the ear, “You, Cozy…Tirek. Tartarus awaits you all.” She put both hands back on the hilt. Using the sword, she filled their stomach with magic directly. The blue light crawled through their veins, going up the body and peeking out from behind the throat. Lighting the eyes. Bright green. With a massive roar, she sliced upwards. Flesh. Blood. Bone. Brain. It all went up in an oily geyser. Like she tapped a vein buried deep within the earth. Many veins. In a huge wave of black sludge, their body collapsed and spasmed. The satyr loosened, dropping the sword on the ground and balancing her hands on her knees. She slowly breathed and watched as the body continued to writhe. Twitching. Twitch. Twitch. …Twitch. … Still. All Chris heard was the snap of bone, before a faint ghostly whisper filled his head, drowning out everything else. A weird glow deep within her throat. He couldn’t be sure. Vision was failing him, as everything became an undescriptive blur. He felt light and empty, drifting in a sea of pink. He felt like his spirit was being sucked from every orifice in his face. His throat became dry, a ringing in his ears, and his eyes went dry. He couldn’t even think straight, it was like his brain was replaced by mounds of stuffy cotton. Another voice called out through the static, coming from a far distant land. “It’s not enough, I need more.” As soon as she spoke, he felt her jaws close up and pucker. Another forceful shove, and the two connected in a deep hard kiss. An explosion of light shot out through the oily sheen, radiating as if it were bouncing off the surface of the ocean. The chitters returned with a faint chuckle. The satyr groaned. Her whole body ached with great pain. She saw them rise mechanically as if on invisible pulleys. Their two halves grinned cockily as they merged themselves together. “I must commend you, princess, I honestly didn’t think you had the guts to go through with that. Very commendable indeed.” His eyes bulged in shock at this move. He could hear her sounds and moves of delight. Most of his senses cleared somewhat, allowing him to see her take on a strange aura, rippling in waves of a green hue. Her decrepit appearance was long gone. In fact, her onyx black shell looked more polished than ever. To say he was a fan of what was occurring wouldn’t be true, but nothing within him was telling him to stop it. All he could really feel was a lukewarm indifference that was rapidly dropping in temperature. Besides, it wasn’t like he could really move anyways. She placed a hoof on his temple and tightened her grip. Her jaw moved again, and her long tongue slowly entered his mouth and slid over his own and down his throat. He couldn’t gag, he didn’t have the energy to, having felt a chunk of it race up his esophagus and expel into hers and wildly lapping it all down her gullet. There was a gag, a real one, and her neck flexed. A molasses fluid, tasteless and bitter, was shoved over his tongue and forced him to swallow all in one terrible mass. They sucked in one labored breath and flopped the halves of their head forward. Brain matter pulsated as it fused. “That sword of yours is very interesting…and incredibly sharp. Especially when it went down that rock over there. For it revealed a glimpse…a window, gazing into another world. It gave me an idea.” She slurped her tongue from his mouth and pulled back, leaving a long connecting strand of green saliva between them. Chris coughed furiously as he tried to crawl out from the mass of sheets and limbs. All the while she deviously giggled to herself rubbing her hooves all over her face, her whole body shaking violently with newfound energy. “Yes, it gave me a really interesting idea,” Their doubled voice quickly overlapped into a singular hiss as the head was shoved together. “If only hitting the environment around here gives me a passing glance, then perhaps a direct hit…” “More, mo-r-r-r-re, MORE!” She screamed and her fangs bit down and ripped through his chest. There was a sickening crunch, followed by a loud meaty squelch, and her head flew up in a fountain of red. Clenched in her mouth was an object, around the size of a fist. It was a mixture of oranges and beating rapidly, as tiny streams flowed between her teeth drenched in blood. Most of the rest ran down her body in a thick, warm shower. They brought their hooves up and held their own chest open. Then, with a mischievous glint in their eye, they cracked the bones in their neck and threw their head in fangs first. They tore away at the sternum and dug further. Their teeth latched around something wet, sliding over layers of slime. The jaws trembled as it continued to throb quicker, blood rushing fast. Their head jerked up and wrenched it from its position. The satyr jumped back in horror, which quickly turned to disgust. “Faust above, what is that?” She shouted. They didn’t answer, wholly consumed by the overstimulating energy filling their mouth. Drool and blood ran down their body in long streams, absorbing in the cracks between their chitin plating. He watched as the fleshy tendons and muscle suspended in the air twitched with every pulse. Her eyes almost fully enraptured in their green glow, like her soul was pounding on the back of her irises. It didn’t take but another blink for them to glow completely, the same light that surrounded her horn. She clamped down harder. A sharp piercing followed, and she began to suck hard on the organ. His whole world started fading as he immediately lost consciousness. Only getting a glimpse of the scene engulfed in more pink mist, before blacking out entirely. Electric. Zapping around the body in pink misty static. The air filled with a thick mystical scent, lustful and overpowering. This power gave off a loud drone as if a great vault of knowledge long ago sealed was slowly opening once more. It was heavy. The eyes were open. Awoken. Wrapped in the green flames, it was all there, yes! Right there, they could see it! They could feel it! It’s here! IT’S HERE! ALL HERE! The fire evaporated in a sweeping explosion before fizzling out with a loud fwoosh. The satyr saw a figure come from the flames, and took back control of her trembling lips. “What have you done?” First in a shaky murmur, then steeled her voice, “What have you done?” Gracefully floating down like a snowflake, resting lightly on a pair of hooftips shiny and muscular. Tall and full. Allowing for the shriveled organ to rest within her hands. “Chrysalis!” She shouted, “You’ve stolen that creature’s heart!” “It appears that way, doesn’t it?” Chrysalis replied with a smirk. The heart now resembled more of a dried raisin, completely devoid of plump and color, yet still faintly squirmed in her palm. “But you’re being a little hyperbolic, I’ve merely borrowed it for now. As if I were to lead somepony along such as that, we hardly know each other. For shame, princess!” She stretched her arms behind her head, flexing her muscles as they popped. “I thank you for knocking some sense into me. I shall apply these lessons when I’m the one ruling over your filthy commoners. After I tend to my own family, of course. Every good mother should be involved in their children’s lives, wouldn’t you agree, Luna?” “The Hive is far better off without your influence. It was they who helped us defeat you in the final offensive. Willingly.” She snorted, “There is no love lost amongst the changelings, they’re distributing it equally and effectively last I heard.” “Please, they’re simply misguided.” A warm orange crept its way over the horizon. Chrysalis watched as the colors swirled, wrestling for dominance. She smiled with a small curl. “It seems the sun’s starting to show itself.” Luna looked over. It was the light of the sun. The rays as they sprawled across the sky, resembling now like cracks from that of rotted stone. Slowly becoming wider. Her heart rate quickened. “What was that you said earlier, about the hours between night and day?” Chrysalis pondered, tapping a finger on her chin. “You’ll have to help me here, as I am just playing dumb, of course. Something concerning your immediate actions afterward. Yes, it would be very hard to forget those.” Luna shot a bullet of magic at her, to which she lazily flicked away with the buzz of a wing. “No-no-no, it didn’t go like that, you’ve got it out of order. I think it went something like this.” The shell of her fingers elongated into sharp pointed claws. The fangs in her mouth grew so large they stuck out, letting green drool drip between them. She lunged at Luna with a feral growl and began to rip through her weak defenses. Easily passing by the sword and going straight for her glamorous armor. How it sparkled in the light, going perfectly with her mane and tail. The engravings and hieroglyphs told stories of Equestria and personal triumphs, much like those history books she boasted about. She imagined the process was grueling. Carefully measuring every inch of her figure. Once. Twice. Dozens of times. Long through the night, ponies sweat as they stamped at the steel. Weaving the most exotic fabric for the lining. The dyes. The paints. The enchantments. How she would stand before a mirror, eyeing its curves. Noble sycophants would cheer and compliment. And she would smile to herself. Happy. Satisfied. Now, it was torn into steel tatters in seconds. Completely unsalvageable. Oops. Luna fell over, causing her wings to pinch underneath. Chrysalis followed with the momentum, jumping atop her and tearing her abdominal plating like tinfoil. She brought her legs to her chest, suffering many cuts in the process. The adrenaline was crucial. Using what little magic she had left, she took it through her hooves and bucked upward. Chrysalis shot high into the air traveling at a great uncontrollable speed. Luna used this to scramble to her hooves and try to run, to find a safe spot to cast a portal. Chrysalis continued to fly higher, barely able to keep her eyes open. Higher. She sensed there was something around her, something above and wide. Higher. She could tell she was coming close to it. The sound reverberation shortened fast. Higher. She braced. Luna looked up, as a thunderous boom echoed out across the sky. It was now a giant spider web of cracks, all shimmering with the same light she’d seen appearing from the rock. Chrysalis was perched in the middle of the crater, looking like she weaved it herself. Her muscles flexed. “Die, Luna!” She pushed off and rocketed towards the ground. Loose pieces shook themselves free and dropped alongside, coming down like hail. It reminded her of when the castle collapsed. Many times when it did. Luna dove away from a large piece, landing on the ground with a thud, got back to her hooves, and ran. However, that action could only be completed now at the speed of a brisk trot. Chrysalis spread her wings to chase, swiftly avoiding the falling debris. A large chunk of stone cloud fell in front of Luna. She raised her sword to cut it in half. Seeing this, Chrysalis took advantage and shot a beam of explosive magic at the obstruction. It went off right in her face, sending burning shrapnel in all directions. Her grip was weak, her composure was gone. The sword flung from her hands, a faint whistle as it cut through the wind. No armor could protect a fist-sized piece from hitting her in the face and putting her on the ground again. She cried out in pain, gasping for air like a fish. She rolled onto a knee. All around, broken stone billowed, the dust falling softly like snow, delicately dressing the ground like a funeral wreath. Waking. “Something wrong, Luna? You look a little spooked…” The chittering voice sent fear into her mind. She looked around frantically for anything to defend herself. There was something jagged and chipped poking out from the ground. She couldn’t see where Chrysalis went. Her sight had blurred severely. “Perhaps you’re feeling cornered? Desperate? Tired? Or maybe…yes…” Her fur was matted with sweat, blood, and dirt caked on her body. She looked around, still nothing, still blurry. She gripped tighter on the stick in her hands. Still nothing. “Are you feeling…alone?” “FACE ME, COWARD!” Luna shouted. If there was one positive to keeping her Canterlot voice pristine, it always helped get her point across. Instantly and crystal clear, blowing all obstruction away. There was nothing. Even in the clear. Nothing. “Face you?” Her voice asked, extremely close. She looked at the stick in her hands. It was rippling with green energy. “Why I’d love to, Luna!” The stick shot up in flames and she threw it in the air. Chrysalis appeared. Luna panicked and went to kick her, to which she brought up an object to block. It flashed bright blue, sounding an alien screech upon clashing. She let out a loud wild laugh, and punched Luna with her free hand, making her stumble. She rushed forward. Luna raised her arms to shield herself. The sword’s cut was clean. The tops of Luna’s hands sliced off, fingers and thumbs going to the side. She was indiscriminate in the rest of her attack, swinging savagely through the rest of her body. Each strike released a shockwave, bouncing off the edges of the world and crumbling it further. That light appeared through every cut, brighter with every open wound. And still, she didn’t stop, not until the blade snapped in two. Luna fell to the fours of her stumps and hooves. She tried to hold strong for a few seconds, before falling over and pushing herself up to her knees. The light seeped through her body, the only piece left intact being her breastplate. Her head drifted upwards as if to reach out to her unknown aid out in the cosmos. She was less fortunate. “What’s…happening?” She asked quietly, like a filly. “What…is this?” “This, dear Luna, is the end.” Chrysalis replied, chucking the broken hilt behind her. Then, for one final strike, she reared her head back high and ran towards her at full speed, horn aimed straight as a lance. The mighty pounding of her hooves quickened the world’s disintegration. Mountains went to ash, plates in the ground warped, and the sky had finally split in two, blasting the eyes with a sudden bright light. Luna looked at her one last time, as her pain gave way to small humor with an even tinier smile. “Heh, till next time…next time…” Chrysalis used her wings to boost toward her prey. The glowing crescent moon on her breastplate. She could feel it. Just one. More. Push. The horn pierced it true, right down the middle. There was a deafening crack of noise, blowing the eardrums out in seconds. Another half-second further, Chrysalis felt her whole body dissipate, and everything went white.
7.5 Thawing Dawn (Extended)View OnlineDouble Double7.5 Thawing Dawn (Extended)Author's Note This was supposed to be a part of the previous chapter, but I felt it’d be best to have it as it’s own thing not to mess with the other’s ending. Happy new year everyone! 7.5 Thawing Dawn (Extended) Eyes shot open. The eyelids were torn clean off the skull, and it most definitely burned like it. Chris’s being ignited with the raging flames of life, a great fireball of consciousness to which he flailed about frantically to control. This proved to be difficult given his current condition, for his movements were hobbled by the restrictions of limited range. He was still trapped, laid out on the ground in a cocoon of sheets, which could’ve also acted as his coffin. That didn’t stop him shouting in panic, as his mind immediately replayed last night, those final moments of personal brutality just before total darkness. It kept going back, over and over, right behind the eyes as watching in terror. Terrified as she towered above him sprawled out on the floor motionless, a face of glee as she had his…heart in her jaws. Did that truly happen? Did anything of last night? Was all of yesterday nothing more than a sleep-deprived hallucination of punishment? Sources were unclear on the answer, as one long study around his environment showed he was still in the stingy motel room. Noticing the sparse streaks of sunlight that were burned into the wall, just as any normal light would. Though, it would gently shift in shape every few seconds in a swaying motion. That happened to come from the cheap curtains there hung above the window looking out onto the parking lot. That’s where memory started to stumble, as said curtains were previously torn off and tossed about the room in a presumed bug-horse panic, but now were back on the rail as if nothing happened. “But, how? …I never touched those,” He said, realizing just how dry his throat was. He laid his head back down in thought. Then, did she fix them? No, that doesn’t make any sense, why would she make such a lazy attempt at covering up that…thing she did?” So we really are…we’re really going home? Guess she really did run off then, hmph. He frowned slightly. Can’t say I’m gonna miss the nuisance, but…it wouldn’t have hurt to get know her a little more. At the very least it’d give the therapist something to work with, heh…heh… He laid there for a while, feeling the heavy silence with its judgmental tone. He coughed. “Well, whether she’s sticking around or not, it makes no difference. I gotta keep moving. The school’s probably about to start an investigation soon, and if I bail on Roman, he’ll be even more skeptical…and annoying, the snide prick.” He fidgeted his arms, feeling just how vacuum-tight they were to his chest. His forearms specifically were crushing into the sternum beneath so hard, he could distinctly feel the heavy-handed heartbeat, which was pulsing on his temples just above the ears. That must’ve been what it was, otherwise, why would it feel so boney? She’d pulled a sloppy death roll on him with the bedsheets, which worked to surprisingly decent effect. She’d left him completely immobile, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted, including that weird thing with her jaw, followed up by kissing him. Kissed by a horse. Ugh. No way something like that ever ends well. He cringed and curled with each continued thought on the matter. Feeling her cold wet lips pressed against his for a lukewarm embrace. How her long tongue would dance and sway with his own, as it snaked its way carefully down his throat in a manner that was firm yet soft in its touch. The aura of absolute pleasure radiating off every inch of her long, smooth body. And the smell… Nasty. Disgusting. Stop thinking about it. … … Stop. Chris craned his neck forward and tried to look down his chin. Indeed, another part of the night has followed him into the morning. Several maroon layers were pulled so incredibly tight, he could see the bumps of his limbs poking up like little islands out on a red sea. He recognized most of them. Arms. Hands. Kneecaps. Shins going down to the tips of his feet. However, there was one that seemed a bit off. One near his thighs, and below the stomach. What’s that? He asked internally, starting to squirm to free his arms of the sheet straitjacket. He rolled his shoulders up and down in a shrugging motion to move his arms up his chest and over his neck. He squished his hand against his face while yanking his elbow from the stinging pain the pressure caused. His cheeks heated up from the awkwardness of the whole scenario. That Jane girl better not be making the rounds on the rooms. If anyone were to see him like this, then he really would wish he’d died from getting his heart eaten. Now with his left arm free, he went to work on unraveling the rest of him. He loosened the hole near his neck and freed his other arm, wincing as the pins and needles crawled themselves back into proper feeling. Tingling as they writhed just underneath the skin. He never enjoyed that sensation, nor feeling bones pop as he stretched. With sports, it meant he was always too tight, never loose enough. If you couldn’t move right, your entire game would be out of whack, which he found many times in his early years. He patted around the area just underneath his arms until he found where the ends of the layers met to pull tight in one massive knot. He managed to push himself up to a sitting position, some pressure around his legs easing as a result. The stretch marks on his kneecaps moved, the bulge in the middle remained. Knots must be where those other bumps are…great, undoing this is gonna take all day! Thanks, Chrissy… He tugged around on the knot and found its weak point and pulled them apart. Upon doing this, he managed to suck in one massive breath, feeling his chest open up now that the tension was released. Chest. Open up. Don’t put those two together. The ceiling fan made the curtains open slightly wider, casting a half and half shadow onto him. Luckily, the lighter half managed to fall upon his upper body, helping him speed up the process to freedom. “There!” He exclaimed triumphantly with fistfuls of fabric, “One part down, however many more to go.” He twisted his head, hearing the bones snap as they went from side to side. He grimaced at the louder ones. “Ow, everything’s so stiff, I must’ve slept like this the whole night.” If he were to use labels, Chris might consider himself a pretty heavy sleeper, if and when he ever felt the need to do so. They would be small hours, but those hours were always pitch black. Very empty. Very quiet. Like his brain was put in stasis. The sheets in his hands went up a few notches in color value due to the light. The muted maroon appeared now a vibrant salmon pink, nice and warm to the touch. For some reason, it made him smile widely at the sight of it. Like the light at the end of the tunnel, or the buzzer-beater to win the game. It was all quite comforting. Then his thumb grazed over a spot. A weird spot. “Hmm, what’s this? A stain?” Scattered across the sheets, haphazard in nature like an abstract painting, the maroon of the sheets appeared on the salmon. He cocked an eyebrow and turned to the window, figuring it was nothing more than shadows cast from the results of uncaring upkeep. While there were scratches and smudges across the glass, none of them lined up with their counterparts on the sheets. Now, more confused, he brought his hands down to the spots directly to investigate further. When they passed over, the maroon spot didn’t jump to his knuckles. It disappeared. It was indeed a spot on the sheets, and rather than feeling his fingers brush over smooth discoloring, what he actually felt made him freeze. The spot was dry and raised, pinching two pieces of the fabric together which he severed by rubbing his index and thumb together, causing it to flake apart. He brought them up to his face. They were still red, a deep wine red to be exact. He brought it closer, up to his nose. Metallic, like a copper coin. “This…is blood.” He confirmed with a quiet whisper. His heart started to beat harder. He went back to pulling at the sheets, desperately trying to get up and check over himself. The further he dug down, the more of the salmon was overtaken by the maroon, then diluted further into deep reds. The dots turned to circles turned to smears, all cracking from age. The smell of it all completely overwhelmed him. “No, all of this-it can’t, that would mean…” He finally pulled the sheets away from his chest and sat forward. He screamed. Chris discovered now why his chest felt so strange and boney, as the bones and muscle under his left pec were flared and warped hideously, showing signs that they’d been blown out. Or dare he say, bitten out. The skin had somehow reapplied itself over the gaping wound, leaving scars and splotches of sickly-looking discoloration. Well, it was made to look like skin, as upon closer inspection, the ‘skin’ was hard and smooth, only colored to mimic its fleshy counterpart. The best way he could describe it would be that of plating. Like an exoskeleton. And buried underneath, placed deep within his chest cavity, a green light faded into view, becoming brightest in the middle. With each quick breath it would pulsate, shifting in intensity like a faulty bulb. “M-My heart! What the fuck’s happened to my heart?” He freaked out was increasing, while the green light flashed faster and fuller. He clutched at his chest, the cold, hard plate sending chills up his arm. “No…no…that didn’t happen, it didn’t…how could it have…how could I be-“ Incoherent stutters stuffed his mouth whole, making him incapable of completing complete sentences. Though, the fact he still had the capability to do so was on the back burner. After what happened, after what she did, he shouldn’t even be alive at all! He saw the organ clenched between her jaws, he saw her shred it to pieces! That would kill anyone! That would kill anything! Well, that’s if he was actually still alive to begin with. Was he? He couldn’t be sure, due to the conflict of signals that were firing off in his brain, as this revelation was juxtaposed by the room around him. Everything felt too real to be nothing more than an apparition. Objects were acting too normal. The world was acting too normal. Insane. Completely insane. You mean to tell him he was wrong about traumatic heart injuries? Had history actually exaggerated what it meant to get an impromptu heart surgery without a replacement? “Then, if she did that to me…” He said in a trembling murmur, “If she really did this to me, then that means she…kept me alive? Why?” The gaps in logic were vast as they were impractical. She seemed hellbent on finishing off there, going through the process of exhausting him of energy before laying in a kill shot. That looked like pretty standard predator behavior, even with the weird human-esque quirks. The only way he could see it, she must’ve kept him breathing to get something in return. Some fucked up self-centered exchange that’s custom on her planet. What could she possibly want out of him? …Well, his heart, obviously, but there must be something else… “Whatever it is, I’m not sticking around to find out. If she’s capable of this in one night, I can’t imagine what she’ll do if she comes back.” He quickly went to removing the sheets at his legs. The weird bulge was still there. Just what is this thing? Due to his new heart condition, anything slightly off was now full-blown suspicious. Every hair, every freckle, every pore. Everything. He unwrapped his abdomen, which was still human, but heavily bruised due to the disorienting rolls he’d endured. He moved his legs around more under the sheets, which made him acutely aware of the bulge on his crotch. His face heated up again and he reached down to touch it. He was sweating. “…It’s…so big…and thick, it won’t budge.” After a moment, he pressed his fingers down and applied pressure, confirming now that it definitely wasn’t balled up sheets. It was solid, rock solid. A weird energetic pulse vibrated on his fingertips. He moved up to his waist, hands hovering over the other folds of the sheets. He was terrified to open them, trembling just above the fabric’s surface. From what occurred with another vital organ, who knows what she could’ve done in other areas. The mangled makeshift repair job of his chest was an eyesore enough, he didn’t know if he could handle anything else that could be replaced. No, she couldn’t have, it would be far too cruel! He wouldn’t wish that kind of treatment on his worst enemy. This part of the sheets were in the shadows, so all he could see was a mass pile of red staring back at him. All red. Deep red. Cold fingers snatched a white knuckle grip on the folds. His legs were freed somewhat, allowing him to twist his knees and unlock his feet. The bulge refused to move, defiant in its resilience. His grip tightened again. He swallowed a lump in his throat, then closed his eyes and pulled the folds apart in opposite directions. The object fell onto his stomach with an audible whump. He opened his eyes slowly. Wood. There, resting on his stomach, was a single large piece of petrified wood. “What the fuck?” He asked flatly. He shuffled his way out of the rest of the sheets and flicked them away with his perfectly normal feet. Overall, besides from his chest, everything else about his body was left mostly unscathed…though, he did have a really bad case of B.O. going on. He took the log in his hand and got up from the floor, wincing once again as he endured more severe snaps of stuck bones. He felt like a statue coming back to life. He took in another deep breathe and exhaled. The air tasted clean as it went down his throat. Unlike that weird slime she made him suck down. …Ugh, nasty-nasty, stop thinking about that. He looked to the log in his hand, tilting his head in confusion. The grain of the bark appeared natural, even through all the holes and weather of time and usage. That was also the time the log stopped being normal. Rather than being a sun damaged light tan, the texture of the wood had darkened greatly, resembling now more of a charcoal black, like it had been burned. The multiple holes he found didn’t look like those created by smaller insects nor old age. Rather, they were quite large, and their surface was very smooth in how they were bored out. Oh yeah, and there was a bright green glow radiating deep from its core, illuminating a collection of symbols etched in the outer bark. He brought the log over to the massive hole in his shirt and placed it by his heart. Both of their lights began to glow brighter in sync, filling his body with this strange energetic feeling. It was…warm and invigorating, like a mother’s embrace. It pushed itself through his systems forcefully, zapping his nerves until they fizzled out through his fingertips. His muscles relaxed and loosened themselves, while his head cleared of all cotton. In a split second, he felt like he got a full night’s rest! It was incredible! He calmed himself down, and blew a pink smoke ring into the air. “Oooo~oh, that’s delicious…” He slurred, and wiped his mouth. He paused. “Yeah, it’s time to leave.” The walk to the front desk was simple and quick. It was still early enough that many wouldn’t be waking up yet, though a few cars here and there had pulled up in the lot outside. It was the hour upon their arrival that was unknown to him, which may or may not have helped him speed up his pace a step or two. He was still unnerved by the absence of the clop cl-no, thump-thump of boots on the carpet. Perhaps it was simply the learned emotions and social cues of daily life, but he didn’t feel put together. He felt exposed. Like he didn’t belong. Like an outsider. Behind the desk, the sleepy-headed girl was gone, including her laptop and tired standoffish attitude. In her place, an older man had taken the seat. Silently mouthing to himself, hand scribbling away at a stack of paperwork. With slightly gaunt cheeks and white hairs in his scruffy black beard, Chris couldn’t tell if he was someone higher up in the chain of command or someone who was really down on their luck. Nevertheless, when he reached the desk, the man perked an ear and looked at him. “Good morning, sir!” He greeted cheerfully, wearing a smile that was way too wide for this hour. “Yeah, morning.” Chris grunted. “Indeed, I heard today’s gonna be a really sunny one, not a cloud in sight.” He looked at Chris and decided to shave off the small talk. “Anyways, my name’s John, what can I do you for at this early hour?” “Yeah, uh…I’m checking out. Should be under Chris Greene.” “Heading back out on the ol’ dusty trail, huh?” He chuckled. “Very well, I’ll check you outta here, it’ll just take a moment.” He looked at him again, this time taking on a concerned brow. “I…hope our accommodations were up to your utmost satisfaction, Mr. Greene.” “Chris, not Mr. Greene.” He corrected, “And yeah, everything was fine. Why?” “Oh, it’s just…you put your shirt on backwards.” He acted surprised and looked to the clothing in question, grabbing the fabric in his hand to put up a façade of intrigued investigation. He’d flipped it around on purpose, trying in any way to not make it look like he had his heart ripped out. A hole in the back is far more acceptable…and explainable. Not to mention the piece of wood jammed down the seat of his pants. It was pressing into his back. He laughed it off and waved a hand. “Ah, well, y’know, some days you start off all turned around, I’ll fix it later. And, uh, speaking of fixing things…” He put on a nervous smile and rubbed his arm. “I might’ve-how do I say-spilled something on the sheets of the beds. I…tried to clean it off, but…yeah, it’s still there.” “Spilled something?” “Yeah, like, liquids…heh…” He scratched the back of his head, feeling beads of sweat forming on his hairline. “Some of it…dried…on the sheets.” John stood there and stared at him through a cautious squint. The lobby fell silent, the only noise being the same clock on the wall since last night. “Hmmm…” He pondered, masking disappointment, “Alright, that’s fine, we’ll have someone come and clean up the…mess. However, if we do find any significant damage to the bedding or the room as a whole, we may have to bill you for compensation.” Chris nodded quickly, “Uuuh-yeah, totally! I understand!” John turned back to the paperwork, a little more forceful with his handling, probably trying to hasten his removal from the premises. “Let’s see…Chris Greene…Chris…Greene…” He muttered, trailing off while flipping through the pages. Chris fidgeted a little watching him work, feeling the awkward tension in the air as a result of his word vomit. …Eh, perhaps another shot at small talk wouldn’t hurt. “Yup, it should be there. I had it all ok’d by that Jane girl last night.” The man’s fingers stopped. “Jane?” He asked, “Who’s Jane?” Bad idea. “The girl who was working the night shift here? A bit shorter? Brunette hair? Blue eyes? Around my age or so?” Nothing. Not a single one of the traits listed struck a chord of remembrance, which only served to worry him more. “I apologize, sir, but we haven’t employed anyone named Jane here, at least not recently as far as I’m aware.” “You sure? She was sitting right where you are…she had a laptop and a name tag and everything else.” “I…one moment, sir,” He pulled out a paper on the desk and tapped on a dotted line, while holding a phone in the other hand. “Sign here please, leave the key, and you’ll be good to go. I need to check on something, just to be sure…” He said and slipped into the back room. Chris was frozen by the edge of the desk. Staring down at the paper and pen, wondering if this is how it truly felt like to go insane. Completely insane. To lose any grip on the fabric of reality and fall endlessly into twisting madness. Either that, or this guy just wasn’t up to date on his employee roster, but judging from everything that occurred to him prior, his guess was firmly with the former. So what was this then? More aliens? Ghosts? His own emerging psychosis? Oddly enough, it would be a lot more comforting knowing all of this nonsense was nothing more than creations of his consciousness, rather than being sentient beings with weight and mass making their way around the world. Though, that itself would be the crazy thought, wouldn’t it? With a sigh and a quick hand, he scribbled his chicken scratch of a signature on the line and placed the room key beside. He paused a moment, making sure nothing weird happened, then spun and made his way to the front door. Just before pushing on the handle, he heard a click behind him and turned around. Feeling the log nearly fall out of his pants. “Wait, sir!” He said, coming back out to the lobby, “I just got off the phone with our manager, and they said we haven’t hired anyone named Jane either. Can you describe to me how she looked again? If you saw someone here last night, we may have to call the police. She could’ve been trying to rob us, to rob you!” “…” He darted his eyes around the room for a few long seconds, then with an exaggerated expression, he acted as if he had a huge revelation. “Ah! Well, you see, I just remembered that I was thinking about someone…working somewhere completely different.” “Huh?” “Yeah…I was thinking of someone else, sorry about the confusion. I just…had a bad dream is all. Anywaythanksbye!” He finished, passing backwards through the door and turned running towards his car. He collapsed in the driver’s seat and chucked the log in the back. He threw the car in reverse, whipping out of the parking space. He put it in drive and turned right out of the lot and sped down the highway, never once checking the rear view. Chris tried to control himself, focusing on the road rather than the stranger things surrounding his life at the moment. He touched his chest once more, only feeling the cold smooth plate just as prior. He exhaled and rubbed a hand down his face. It too was cold. “Christ, what a shitty night.” He fished his phone out of his pocket to throw it in a cupholder. But before he did, he tapped on the screen, to see if anything had updated when he was absent from the living world. And, as a matter of fact, there was. A single notification. A single message. A phone icon. A missed call. Mom. He groaned and slumped down in his seat, “…And now for the shitty morning after.”
8. Neon KnightsView OnlineDouble Double8. Neon KnightsThe chains to the castle gate moved for her quickly. Much quicker than she had hoped for. The guards caught a glimpse of the new arrival and immediately stood at attention. Their armor gleamed with a mixture of hues from the morning that’d just begun. Abstract smears of orange, reds, and pinks danced brightly across the polished plates and chainmail. In contrast, their faces were uniform and stoic under their helmets, not letting up the firm grips on their spears. Theirs was a guard without glamour, no ceremony in their posturing. One made their way to the front of the pack, filling the air with the smell of steel and freshly washed fur. She gave them a nod of acknowledgment. “They’re waiting for now, down in the throne room.” Their voice was hard as their armor. No emotion. High alert. Urgent, she thought. That’s what the letter said. Urgent. Often they were, and for very understandable reasons. They’d always arrive at the most ill-fated of times. The times when she’d be settling down after solving some major catastrophe or making plans amongst her peers with expertly crafted lists and planning, just for another to come tumbling afterward. This case happened to be the former, but she was desperately craving the latter. She even planned on sleeping in some this morning and cuddling up tight in her oh-so-warm sheets. Perhaps even brewing some tea and spending a few early hours in a book. But no, apparently that was one of the only luxuries she wasn’t afforded these days, and that list had increased significantly as of late, even if it wasn’t that much of a concern to her. A few guards were signaled to break off, those of stockier frames and sharp eyes, as they took up position by her sides and motioned for her to lead. Some had checked behind her to see if any more were going to arrive, they even examined down around her hooves, but found only air. This was urgent. She could tell by the signs her not-so-pleased reptilian alarm clock was giving off a few hours prior. It’d happened so many times. She’d basically had them memorized down to the very seconds themselves. She even cataloged these symptoms of what each letter could entail, with key factors such as tone, subject matter, even the word count could have a major impact on its delivery. There was a pause, a moment of sober contemplation upon a strange sensation of unknown origin. Then, the stomach would gurgle deep and frantic from its indigestion. He keeled over almost immediately, gripping his stomach tight between his claws, seeing the pained strain across his snout. He would grunt and hiss, growling expletives and declarations of utter heresy while the sweat poured off in buckets. Then, just as soon as it began, an explosion, one massive eruption from deep within would go off, so loud it shook the windows. A great raging fireball plumed into the air, curling and crackling as it morphed into a giant green mass. It remained airborne for a few seconds, nearly catching the crystal ceilings ablaze, before evaporating and leaving behind a single object. A parchment. Urgent. She and the guards made their way through the grand halls of the castle in a swift trot. The rhythmic sliding of polished steel pounding in her ears with its blunt shuffle echoed out against the hooves on the marble and glass. No stopping for small talk, no stopping to see what new additions have been made after the castle’s long reconstruction, not even to say hello to old acquaintances in the staff. They would notice her, their faces remained still with concern, whispering as they returned to their daily tasks. These halls. These walls. She’d been down them so many times, and just about every part of this ancient structure for that matter. So many times, she could’ve slept-trot around each room without waking a sleeping dust bunny tucked tight out of sight. This wasn’t out of the question, given the many times she found herself waking in the middle of library books when she was a filly. So long ago. So much to read. So much to learn. Now, she constantly found herself retracing the same hoofprints wafting with magenta aura. Even with her closest friends at her side, even after the panic, the fights, the triumphs, it’s still brought her down these halls, looking at the same walls. Perhaps she still needed to wake up more. “How long have they been waiting?” She asked. “We’re not sure, your Highness.” One responded, making her cringe internally. Your Highness, ugh. “The message was sent out before the sun was raised. The morning guard could hardly prepare, some only had time to put on a breastplate and helmet before marching out. Apologizes for their nonstandard dress, the entire castle has been put on high alert.” “You don’t need to apologize to me over that, and if security has been increased to that level, why is there only the standard guard stationed outside?” “Royal orders,” Another said, “They wish not to raise any concern amongst the citizens of Canterlot.” An internal lockdown? She thought with a nervous ringing in her head. She couldn’t remember a plan of that nature ever being enacted. To keep those in the castle on the prowl for danger, yet to keep the public unaware of any dangers to the royal sisters? Her whole body tensed. The base of her horn burned with a presence of idle magic. Wings unfastened from her back, ready to unfurl and fly at a moment’s notice. Urgent. “Have you noticed anything strange here, anything that could truly raise alarm?” “No reports yet.” They replied as the group started to round the final corners. “The only thing we can say that’s out of the ordinary is the increased amount of patrols dispatched to the gardens, and all areas surrounding them. Tripled, at the very least.” The gardens? Why would they need to send additional guards there? Unless, what if there’s an external threat, trying to sneak in under the veil of night? An intruder, here in the castle! That wasn’t exactly an uncommon incident at this point, as many ne’er do well’s have found a way to slither their sinister schemes right under the sisters’ muzzles. Workarounds could be found all over if you had the eye for it. She certainly did, she certainly did it, and she certainly got in trouble for it. But still, anypony wanting to harm royals of any kind must be sought out and stopped, an export she had an evergreen supply for. They arrived, staring high at the ginormous doors that gave passageway to their destination: the throne room. They were tall and incredible in their grandiose appearance, each placement of the ornamental pieces was pure perfection, doing their best to set the atmosphere when one is about to come face to face the country’s ruling body. Hundreds of years of knowledge and experience between the two of them. Sure, they were on their way out…very soon. Very-very soon. They elected to stay present to oversee the castle’s full grueling restoration. Until the last door was hinged. The last piece of rubble swept. The last speck wiped from the windows. It was a message, not just to the country, but to the world at large. They would stand tall in the face of danger. That ponies would move as one with unbreakable resolve. Their stature, their power made it absolutely clear. Above Equestria, goodness strides. Even if she was just answering an innocent social call, she’d still get the nerves regardless. But eventually, they would wear off. These weren’t going away. The guards posted by the doors jumped to life, reanimated by an invisible shock. “Princess Sparkle!” One exclaimed, nearly dropping his spear. The scruff of his blue fur poked wildly through the corners between plates. She gave them both a nod and spoke as calmly as she could. “…I would say good morning to you, but judging from everything going on right now, it’d be an insult.” “Even then, that would be an understatement.” The other one groaned, readjusting his helmet. “We’re trying to holdfast as best we can, but the Princesses are getting…restless, even before the time of dawn.” He looked at the guards beside her. “Anything from the search teams?” “Negative, personally speaking. As far as we’re aware, they’re still looking outside.” “Return to the rest of your team,” She said to the guards at her side, “If any further developments come about, we must know immediately.” They saluted at once, and galloped back down the halls, as the sounds of their steel and hooves echoed into nothingness. Those nerves were still present. She can do this. She’d done this many times before, many-many times before, bordering on routine. She’d describe them more like bad habits, perhaps even an addiction. Nasty thoughts. Nasty habits. She’d done this before. She moved to the center of the room and signaled to the guards. They two looked at each other, and turned around and parted the doors in one smooth motion. They groaned deep under their weight, yet effortlessly glided over the vibrant velvet rug that shot out along the floor. Eyes tracing along as they looked up to the opening display. The guards had only been half right. The vast open space of the room was awash in seas of multicolored lights from the windows, bending and twisting like waves of a steady ocean. Drapery hung, curtains and banners shifting lightly with a breeze. The room seemed even larger, as the floor reflected a crystal clear mirror-like they were floating in midair. Despite the commotion going on around the castle, the room had kept its’ atmosphere of a place meant to hold civil, important discussions, lessons, revelations, and the most exquisite gossip this side of Equestria. Not that she was one to engage in conversation that petty and pointless. Never. Mostly not. The thrones, tall and elegant as they’d always been, even if they were newer constructions. Though, it still didn’t help quell that feeling of foreboding, then and now. Especially now, looking across the stained windows lining the walls. Past, present, and future on the not-so-distant horizon. Future events. Future changes. “Your Highness.” A guard announced, with a little crack in his voice. “Princess Sparkle has arrived, no updates to report as of now. The search teams are still, well, searching.” There was a figure present on the throne, as the ears of the sun fluttered lightly, and their body motioned to rise. She stepped forward in front of the guards, and extended her wings with a courteous bow, “Princess Celestia.” No matter what the cause for concern, Celestia was always one to keep her composure. She had to, being one of the great leaders of the land. A coat as white as the clouds, draped in the most fabulous sundress and a ceremonial breastplate of gold. Jewels, lining each limb bright and shimmering in the sunlight, bouncing along in the colorful waves of her mane swirling around the island of a crown. It was a figure Equestria had seen for millennia. Unchanging. Unflinching. Her loving wings caress as they wrap around the heart of every subject in the land. As they all basked upon her figure, her peaceful smile parted to speak. “Huzzah!” Boomed a voice, loud and rumbling as it shook the entire room. Everypony looked around confused, before hearing something thrown in the air, wings unfurling with multiple blasts of magic sounding off. She sensed objects were thrown in her direction, and reacted quickly with a stasis spell, giving enough time to hear a magic whine whiz by her ear. So high pitched it made her ears fold. She turned to see what was caught in her magical aura. A spoon, of which silver was melting from the heat of the blast. The figure landed on the ground with a crushing slam, and they sprung up quickly to prepare another shot. “Curses! Off by mere inches again!” They shouted in frustration. “Princess Luna?” She responded, confused. She also noticed a now empty space by her side and looked behind to see one of the guards stuck to the wall, with impaled garments full of forks and knives. His eyes were wide in a frightened, unfocused stare. “You think you can just sneak in here without anypony noticing, grub?” Luna snarled, “I see right through you, you’re not getting away this time!” In her blue magic, a wide array of sharp utensils were aimed straight for her. The other guards were devoid of color, shakily looking at each other nervously. Restless seemed a good description going by Luna. Disheveled fur and a skewed dress of the night. The stars of her mane were random and warped all over. From one glance at her face, it looked like she hadn’t slept. Or rather, like she never took a break from her shift. Not that she was any better at the moment, having hastily put on a skirt and blouse as she was practically running out the door. She still had on her socks and mane tied up in a bun. She never minded the mundanity of it. Some ponies still referred to her as the librarian even to this day. No amount of royal posturing or ceremonial displays could ever knock her of Ponyville’s small-town chic, even if the materials were of higher quality. A gesture of thanks from those who’ve supported her over the years. Luna’s attempt to hurl more silverware was halted, as a golden aura wrapped around her waist and flung her back into her nightly themed throne, the utensils falling to the ground in a shower of clangs. “Luna!” Twilight yelled, as she and the remaining guards looked to her sister, seeing her horn’s magic glow slowly fading away, showing even further her tired eyes. “What’re you doing, Celestia?” “Everypony please relax, I don’t need anypony else using their cutlery as their own personal armory.” Celestia sighed, running a hand down her face very slowly. After a moment, she looked down to her and put on another traditional smile. “Ah…Twilight, it’s so good to see you again.” Twilight tilted her head confused, careful not to make any sudden movements, “Right…it sure seems that way when somepony’s trying to scoop my eyes out.” She replied, holding the spoon in her hand, bent over like a wilted flower. “Of course, and we will see that to that issue once somepony calms down.” She said while turning to her sister with a raised brow. “I am calm.” Luna replied. Twilight relaxed her body and took a few more steps forward, only for Luna to appear before once more. She was trapped stiff in another aura of magic, as she began pulling at her cheeks and lifting underneath her eyelids, followed up by spinning around in ways that were far too thorough for this early of an hour. After lasting much longer than…whatever this was supposed to be, she was set back down, and Luna reappeared on her throne. “She’s clean.” “Sister!” “Just making absolutely, positively sure.” “And you’re acting like an absolute madmare! Fondling Twilight won’t get us anywhere, I could tell it was her from the moment she stepped hoof in the castle. Her mana’s one of the easiest to identify in all of Equestria.” Luna yanked her by the collar of the sundress. “And that’s exactly what she’d want us to believe, to mask her scent and fool them all until she’s standing right before us! Ready to strike!” She swatted her hand away, giving her a very visible scowl. “We’ll have this problem under control as long as you keep yourself under control. We have soldiers working tirelessly to get as much information as they can. Honestly, have you no faith in our royal guard anymore?” “After these many recent events, do you?” She stared at her intensely, before gazing down to the one still pinned to the wall. She quickly yanked him out, and turned cheek as she grumbled under her breath. “That’s a topic saved for private discussions, Luna. A time for when their services aren’t in such dire need.” She looked back at the guards, both pale and shaking in place as they stared back at her. The quiet between them was strong. She coughed. “Yes, thank you for your assistance in securing Twilight’s safety. You may leave us now.” She sniffed the air and masked a grimace. “And you may go…change into a fresh pair of garments before returning to your post.” They gave her a quick sloppy salute, “T-Thank you, your Highness!” And scurried out of the room, closing the doors behind them with a hard slam. That left Twilight alone to look up at her once-mentors. Celestia ran a hand through her glowing mane, with a few sparks of light flickering off as she did. Twilight found a moment to slip into the conversation, as well as putting a bumper between the bickering. “…Uh…yeah, may I ask why the rise in suspicion here?” She asked cautiously, minding her choice of words as well as her tone. Unfortunately, so was Luna. “Suspicion? Why do you say it like that…suspicion, hmm? Is there something wrong with my suspicions? What, do you think I’m being irrational, that I’m paranoid, is that it? Do you think I’m being paranoid? Paranoid? You mock me for my concern, you all mock me! Everypony! You know what? You and sister can take that cool, calm, collectivity and shove it up your-“ An object was thrust under her muzzle, sparkling in a golden aura. A cup, small and ornamental. “Drink it.” Celestia ordered with a stern chill in her voice, to which the younger sister followed as she spoke to Twilight. “Hmm…I’d be lying if I were to say her behavior isn’t unfounded. The situation at hand is incredibly serious, one that has put Equestrian society, perhaps the whole world, in grave danger once more. And, we still don’t have a complete grasp on what exactly we’re dealing with yet.” “Which is?” Twilight asked with a snort. “So far, I’ve been startled, rushed, groped, and insulted, while not once actually being told why I’ve been summoned here.” Celestia’s eyes were hard, almost like a stone furnace, housing the deep spark of fire within. Rare were times they appeared, they were not pleasant times. “…Chrysalis has escaped.” “WHAT?” All drowsiness had completely washed from her system. Every sense was now pristine and fully operational, the very pinnacle as they were when regarding alicorns. The ears especially, because she couldn’t think of any arrangement of words she’d want to misinterpret less than those three. Chrysalis. Just the name alone made her fur stand on end. Even on her own, her reign committed to untold havoc on the lives of ponies all across Equestria. Her infiltration of the wedding, the use of her once misguided drones to feast upon friends and family alike, draining them of their love and shattering all connections in their way. How she was able to overpower and underhoof her way into a cocoon still kept her up some nights. And this was just on her own, when she teamed up with Cozy and Tirek…they’d brought Equestria to her knees, and nearly delivered the killing blow. Literally. Spilled across many lands of the tribes and kingdoms. But they were defeated. Now…now… “She escaped?” Celestia nodded, “But…when…how could she-“ “That’s what I’ve been trying to discover ever since the day started. It’s why we have so many out in the gardens right now, to investigate their stone prison and all areas surrounding them.” “The statue?” She panicked a little more, “That would mean, the others-“ “Are still imprisoned, at least for now. Not a single crack found on their bodies, our magic is still holding strong against Cozy Glow and Tirek.” “Then...how could Chrysalis break free of hers?” “I wish I had an answer for that now, but we're still searching. The first one who reported about it was Luna, but that wasn’t much help. When she came out from her night shift, she wasn’t one for discussion. She desired…confrontation.” She almost chuckled. “Hmph, at least it was a little more eventful than my usual morning routines. Some of those moves I haven’t used in years.” Luna jolted forward in her throne, her eyes wide and alert with an ecstatic smile. She let one loud sigh of delight, as she examined the cup for any remaining droplets. “Oh my, sister, this is fantastic, I feel so rejuvenated, like I’ve slept a thousand nights all at once! Just what fantastic concoction have you brewed for me?” “Coffee.” She replied bluntly, crossing her legs as she turned in her seat to look at her. Luna saw now that she’d forgotten most of her royal features. “But now that you’ve decided to join us in the waking world, sister, look who’s finally arrived.” She said, pointing to Twilight. Luna’s face drooped with an apologetic frown as she set the cup down by her side. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “I apologize for my behavior there earlier, it’s been difficult to concentrate. Everything…everything that’s been going on…it might’ve caused me to act unreasonable there.” Twilight waved a dismissive hand. “It’s alright, but now that you’ve calmed down, we need to figure out what happened with Chrysalis and put a stop to her! Celestia said you were the first one to notice any sign of her disappearance, what exactly did you see?” “It’s a little more than that…” She trailed off, and became small on her throne with nervousness, “…I might have assisted in her escape.” “You did what?” Twilight and Celestia asked simultaneously. “It wasn’t on purpose! I would never make the conscious decision to release that foul beast back into Equestria!” “Are you saying she was able to manipulate you?” Twilight asked, “Even after we finally managed to imprison her in stone, not to mention she’d been incredibly weakened by that point, how could she have gotten the drop on us…again?” She finished meekly. Yeah, finding herself quickly surrounded by the enemies of Equestria who were just moments ago, the spitting image of her closest friends even after having fought against these foes not too long ago? Not her proudest moment. Especially not upon finding her fellow royal constituents wrapped up in their organic prisons. There’s still some slime she hadn’t been able to scrub from her fur. Gross. “If I were in your hooves, I would’ve agreed before yesterday,” She said, leaning back in her throne, “In the waking world, I was around halfway or so through the night. My shift was in full swing. Things were going as routine while I was monitoring my orbs, pondering what they could entail. Some were expected, some were a surprise. Some were good, some were bad, some were just downright naughty…Miss Sparkle.” Twilight’s face heated and she looked away, twisting a hoof. “I…uh…I’m not sure I follow, Luna.” The two sisters glanced at each other with a sly smirk. She continued. “Everything was shaping up to be an average night in my books. All of my subjects were due another night of peaceful, prosperous sleep, so they may greet tomorrow with a clear mind full of motivation. Until…” She lifted a finger, tracing the air as if she were replaying the events in her head. “…I came across one particular orb. One I’d always seen, but never gave enough thought to thoroughly examine, lest I expose myself and bring about more conquest and despair on Equestria…” “…The orb of Chrysalis…” Twilight said lowly, “…It makes sense she’d still be cognitive enough to dream. The stone encases around the figure, not from within them.” “Yes,” Luna continued, “But something felt off, everything felt off. When I arrived, I discovered she had envisioned herself in a memory cold and snowy. I believe it was the last time she and Starlight engaged one another in combat.” Starlight had told her of that, her last-ditch attempt in keeping her students safe as they were in the process of evacuation. Disregarding her own safety to give others those precious seconds needed. While she was not victorious in the battle, Twilight couldn’t have been prouder. “I could feel it, even with it's frosty nature, the fires of battle were still raging. They were warping the orb in its’ thermal heat. Radiating with this energy unfamiliar to me. It felt…otherworldly…and powerful. Powerful enough to invoke concern, and curiosity within me.” “Impossible!” Celestia’s fist slammed on the armrest. “We stopped those villains dead in their tracks. Everycreature banded together to deliver one of the strongest blasts of harmony I’ve ever felt in my entire life. By the end, their bodies were completely scarred with defeat! We crushed them to dust!” “Physically.” Luna said, bringing confusion, “We had defeated the three physically through and through, there’s no way in Tartarus they could’ve overpowered us with such a strong combination of Harmony and Chaos. But, it wasn’t accepted by them all.” “Accepted?” Celestia had nearly slipped into her Canterlot voice. “Acceptance? Were we accepting of having our nation attacked? Of having our magic stripped, our home destroyed, our society devolved back into tribal superstition?” The flames within her flared, and she spat with a furious snort which quickly evaporated in midair. “Hmph! Like I care if they were accepting of their punishment.” “I don’t mean acceptance of that nature, Celestia. Acceptance of defeat that comes deep from within oneself. When defeat is inescapable, etched directly onto one’s soul, weighing down the body with its presence. To know there’s no hope, no possible path for any kind of triumph. To be at the mercy of another’s will, now and forevermore. An emotion, cold and ruthless, a feeling I know all too well myself, and one that they came to understand at that moment. All except her.” She said with a growl at the end, hearing it reverberate against the walls.” Only two of them finally understood what it meant to be defeated. But for her, she was the only one who could never accept it. She could never comprehend it. No, she still needed to learn it. To experience it.” “Luna, please tell me you weren’t trying to emulate those motion pictures you watch in your spare time. I’ve seen how enthusiastic you get about those with swordsmares at sunset.” Celestia groaned through her palm. “Ahem, they’re called movies, Celly, and I assure you they’re regarded as high art amongst those in Canterlot. Not that I would do something as foalish as that, anyhow.” “Oh really?” Celestia’s horn lit, casting a spell and causing a very familiar sword to appear from thin air. “Then what would you call this, then? A toothpick?” Luna looked at the sword, then back to her sister, and shrugged it off as she spoke. “That…is a collector’s item, and I would appreciate it if you would be more careful with it.” “This is the same sword you used in our battle a millennia ago! The only collecting this should be doing is the money of tourists who come to gawk at a display case.” She pulled it from its sheath and examined it, eyeing the intricate Damascus pattern running down the broadside. “Dark Sister, seriously?” “It seemed a fair fit at the time, given the circumstances. Many ponies name possessions close to them.” “Including the sword you tried to kill me with?” “Of course, in fact, I’d say it has greater sentimental value because of that!” Celestia rolled her eyes and rested the sword beside her throne, which Luna side-eyed cautiously. “So, you figured the best course of action here would be to engage a prisoner we’d already dealt with effectively, much less while they were still asleep? Do you know how disastrous this would’ve been if the media had gotten wind?” “It was not to engage, merely…observe.” Celestia cocked on eyebrows as she lifted the sword again. “The use of force hadn’t come about until she had explicitly threatened me.” “Did the words cruel or unusual come to mind?” “No, however, I did get plenty of snarling, fuck you-s, incoherent ramblings-oh! She even gave me a monologue!” “Oh, wonderful, nice to know our top priorities are in order. Not ethics, but making sure we check all the boxes of our personal power fantasy.” “Oh hush, like you’re one to pass on an opportunity for a good fight, especially after all that conquest and repeated attempts of destroying us. Plus, we were fighting in the dream realm, it’s not like she was at risk of getting injured…mostly.” “And now Equestria is mostly at risk once more now that she’s been released!” “Wait a minute,” Twilight piped up. By now, the mare had flown herself up to the steps just before the thrones, her neck wincing from constantly having to look up. Now she was able to see them at near eye level. It was far more comfortable, and even more terrifying. “By the time you imprisoned Chrysalis, she was incredibly wounded, and whatever magic she used to break free would’ve drained her completely. She’d be so deprived of magic, I doubt she could even shapeshift effectively. I understand the benefits of mental resolve, but if the body is weak, a can-do-attitude isn’t going to, well, do much.” She crossed an arm over her chest, propping the other with a finger to her chin. “So, why would she ever want to engage in combat?” Luna’s ears fell with a sigh, “Looking back, I should’ve realized something was suspicious in how eager she was to fight. That she would've had something planned right from the start.” Another low grumble under her breath. “Chrysalis was weak, damn near a spirit dragging a corpse when I found her crawling through the snow. Ranting mindless confusion…madness, it seemed isolation destroyed her mind to the point she couldn’t even remember herself.” She stood up and took her sword in hand, causing Twilight to take a step back. “But no, it was a ruse, for her aid was right around the corner.” “Aid?” Celestia asked. “Magic,” She responded, “Foreign, one I’ve never felt on this world before.” “A new magic source?” Twilight’s ears perked up, feeling a slight building of enthusiasm under her concern. “Foreign, Twilight, not new,” Luna responded, unsheathing her sword which began glowing bright with blue magic. The two other mares shifted nervously, causing her to roll her eyes, “Relax,” She held up the blade and cut into the air, tracing a circle and slashing at it. The very air appeared to shatter around the circle like glass, breaking away to reveal a glowing window, “I’m simply giving a visual demonstration.” Twilight looked into the circle, watching as the light warped around some kind of object. “You’ve seen this visage before, have you not?” “...Yes...I have...” Twilight responded in a quizzical murmur, studying as the object slowly took shape. “It looks…human.” The sword cut right down the middle, making her squeak in surprise. The image split away into shards, going further underneath to show another creation, one that morphed and pulsed with an odd glow. An organ, such as, “A heart?” She looked up to Luna confused, “Why’re you showing me this?” “It appears our fallen queen has gained herself a sympathizer willing to lend a hand…or heart when needed.” On cue, the vision of the heart crushed in on itself, spraying blood and pink-ish mist to drip over something invisible, slowly forming into the shape of a muzzle. Twilight felt all the color leave her fur. Celestia’s white was still pristine, yet her brow darkened further. "It was through this sympathetic being that Chrysalis managed to gain back her strength, and by that point, I was too late to change anything. She bested me not long after...for now." Twilight continued to stare at the visual. “She’s…made contact with the…” “Human realm.” Celestia's hooves slammed on the ground when she leapt from her throne. Her entire body had taken on a faint orange glow. “This is far worse than I could’ve imagined. Not just ours, but we have two realms compromised by her influence, and with the human’s lack of knowledge on magic, they could very easily be taken advantage of through her deceitful tricks.” “I’m afraid we may have suffered a casualty already, willing or otherwise,” Luna sheathed the sword, the click of the steel causing the vision to vanish in a fine mist. “…And there can very quickly be more on the horizon. We’re all well versed on how effective she was against those experienced in changeling tactics, numerous times in fact. To have her roam free amongst a species completely unaware of her methods…” Twilight gasped, “They wouldn’t stand a chance! She could slither up the chain of influence, and if she were to take hold in a ruling body, who knows just what she would do to them!” “No.” Celestia responded, “Not if we get to those who are aware first. Twilight, are you still in contact with Sunset?” She nodded. “Good, write to her at once about these recent revelations and gather the rest of the Elements, we’ll inform the Crystal Empire and the Hive. Once we are all together, a battle plan will be laid out. Equestria must be her most vigilant, as long as we lead this land, no villain threatening our subjects will go unpunished!” “Indeed! For what evil lurks in the shadows…” “Will be brought into the light!” Celestia roared, pausing for a moment to glance at her smirking sister. “Now’s not the time for tag-teaming catchphrases, Luna.” “Any yet you’re the one who finished it.” She ended with a small giggle. Celestia rolled her eyes with a playful snort and disappeared in a golden flash of light. Luna’s smile dropped as she turned back to the purple alicorn standing before her. “We’ll continue our investigations here and update you as soon as we can. An escort team will go with you as transport heading back to Ponyville. Gather your friends, we must make haste at once.” “Of course, Princess Luna!” Twilight gave a short regal bow and galloped down the stairs and towards the doors. “Stay safe, you two!” She yelled over her shoulder. “You as well, Sparkle!” Luna responded, watching as Twilight bucked the doors open and disappeared from view. Some may not have noticed it, but she could see the elusive changes her transformation started long ago. Her ever-inching increase in height. The soft waviness of her mane. The defining tone of her musculature were almost chiseled like a statue. She even whined sometimes about ponies bugging her about her non-existent workout routines. The almost smothering presence of her magical capabilities. They were all signs. Signs of a mare who knew of the struggles on the long road ahead, and had met them head-on time and time again. It was clear, she was ready for her new role. She was ready to rule. “Stay well, stay sharp…” She whispered as she prepared to teleport to her sister, “…Even in this short period, who knows where she could’ve run off to, who she’d manage to encounter, what shockingly wicked, evil, vile schemes she’s crafting right at this very moment!” Author's Note Hello everyone, good to see you again! It seems that little clash wasn't taken lightly. And hey, have you ever noticed how confusing Canterlots layout is from a map perspective? Gee, wouldn't that be inconvenient for someone on the run? ... Anyways, more to come soon, see you ~~in months~~ soon!
9. Stone Dead ForeverView OnlineDouble Double9. Stone Dead ForeverWhile sitting there against the backside of a tall oriental stone building, watching as bits of rubble and nature slid off him into the small black streams pooling on the ground, he came to a realization. One that had been lingering in his head for a while now, perhaps even longer than he was actually aware. But now, in the crisp fresh air of the morning, as he continued to sit in the shadows, and the tiny streams became rivers, could this breakthrough come to the forefront. He had no idea what he was doing. It wasn’t exactly an unknown phrase to him at this point. He had used it on many occasions to describe his situation at the time. Sometimes it was in jest, sometimes in anger, sometimes it wasn’t fully truthful to help absolve him of responsibility. Yes, he used it many times. But here, he truly meant it, right down to the very syllable. Proper usage, proper context. Because right at this very moment, he absolutely, positively, 100% had no idea what he was doing. Not that the world surrounding him was offering any favors. It seemed to act in defiance against his whims and wishes purely out of spite alone. Toying with him. It knew no bounds of how far it could go to stoke confusion, and parts of him were starting to ache from its nonstop pestering. Clearly, it must’ve been too much to ask for a dangling olive branch in these times. Mainly considering there were no olive branches to speak of, or hardly any natural nature for that matter. For the past few hours, he was plunged deep amongst structures of a fantastic build. Manmade marvels that could’ve jumped straight out of the pages of a fairy tale. Nursey rhymes lining the streets, connecting buildings of vibrant purples, golds, and whites. Time eras seemed to blur, as ancient-looking architecture was placed right next to modern designs, at least those he could pinpoint, medieval to midwestern, past to present. All built below the canvas of a hand-painted sky, scrapping over the mountains this hulking mass was carved into as if it sprouted out from the cracks between the plates and grew. Nope, no olive branches to be found here. A well-placed opening in the clouds appeared, and a streak of sunlight snaked its way through the buildings and landed on him directly. He squinted and looked back down to the ground. His tail was still twitching slightly between his legs, the little pieces of stone acted as barriers on the cobbled road, seeing the black streams pool over and seep onto the bare face of the rocks. The lights reflected off them like grimy oil. He sighed. He hated the city. Chris couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment when he had lost his senses, nor the moment he finally got them back. Everything came across as distant and extremely fuzzy, the opposite of what he needed to be in times of great uncertainty and personal danger. He needed to be full and solid, acutely aware and extremely close, much his hardened exterior he was forcefully becoming accustomed to. That wasn’t going to change anytime soon. At the very last moment, he could only recall before total dark the battle on the mountain, fighting against that strange woman, the satyr. He almost couldn’t believe it, even looking back on it. He had thought the whole situation was nothing more than a dream. He still felt that way, not fully convinced of the state of reality. Some of the pain was real, especially on his limbs and sides from the rolling around he did while trying to escape, but others only existed in the mind. The blue light. All he could see in his mind was the blue light surrounding her. The intensity of it, the sharpness. The sound…it was one he never wished to hear again. Nothing natural could make that noise. It had to be something far more powerful. Magical. When Chris came back to himself, he arrived with a heavy jolt, as if zapped throughout his entire body by a bolt of lightning. He awoke in a face full of flowers, with petals tickling his nose and mounds of dirt dug between his teeth. At first, his body refused to move, lying dormant on what could be construed as the ground. It took him a few minutes to become aware that he was awake, as ridiculous as it was to remind oneself of such normal instances. But strange was quickly becoming normal, and vice versa. The ground beneath him was cold, and the space around him was dark, cast in the deep blue of night. Sounds slowly filled his ears, the steady chirps of crickets and faint rustle of leaves circled him. Their volume was natural and unmuffled by any obstruction. Outside. He immediately began to panic, fearing that the fight wasn’t over. He sprung up and pushed off the ground. He groaned in pain, now feeling the full extent of his body’s soreness, but it was much better than being served up with a sword in your gut. Once the adrenaline wore off, the rest of his movements were slow and careful, as tingles of life crept up his legs, throughout his chest, and out his limbs. The tips of them were electric, interweaving a live circuit as he stretched his front legs and back. He let out a quiet purr of pleasure feeling the release. Then he froze. “Wait a minute…are these…fingertips?” He brought them down to get a better look, marveling at how they moved and contracted. His gaze expanded. Hands. Arms. Shoulders and chest. All distinct features of a- “Human…I’m human again, I’m human again! Yes!” He exclaimed, jumping in the air a little at the revelation, planting down on a hard surface. Clop. Then he looked to the rest of himself. A bright glowing stomach. The black exoskeleton. Tail. Hooves. His shoulders slumped. “Well, mostly human, I guess. At least the pieces that matter so I don’t have to stumble around on all fours. I’ll never get used to that.” He did another scan over, just to be sure he wasn’t imagining things, which was a legitimate concern. What he was seeing was real. A coat of chitin, the see-through stomach flashing with each pump of his heart. Even his forearms had small holes dotted towards the bicep. But his head. His head stayed a horse, feeling his ears perched high and an out-of-focus muzzle in the corner of crossed eyes. The horn implanted in his forehead parting long greasy hair, with one strand in particular hanging in front of his right eye. He was still a freak, but now a more manageable freak. “Eh, I’d still consider it a win, at the very least a half point in my favor.” He nodded a little and looked up, “So, where have I been dragged to now?” This was no motel parking lot, that’s for sure. Even in the dark, he could make out a few shapes in the glow of the flickering street lamps, placed in curving rows and cutting abruptly at corners. Rows of hedges line the beaten dirt walkways twisting out into black nothingness. These were not natural, their straight edges and defined curves were the results of labored upkeep. This was a courtyard. Flags of pink and red hung limply from tall poles, occasionally twitching to life with the passing breeze. The street lamps also fell on more than the spruced-up shrubbery, but these strange large masses that were outlined in faded bulbs. Even if he really couldn’t tell what they were, he knew he could sense another strange presence. Eyes. He peered around quietly, keeping his body low and still. There was more than just the feeling of someone watching him. He couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but they were definitely nearby. Regret. Panic. Fear. In the inactivity of the night, these murmurs rang out like loud shrieks. A beg for mercy. A bloody murder. His hoof connected with something. It was stone. Pieces of stone. Chunks of stone. Just like those of the snowy mountain. He trailed the mess behind him back to a tall thick pedestal it had spilled over from. He noticed how it clumped near the base, yet was spread out wide and traveled out in a fan pattern. Carved from the base, poised high on a tip was the shape of a hollowed-out broken hoof, lunging forward in its angle. He looked down at his legs. The was stone stuck between the holes. There were two other intact figures, one of a mythological centaur, the other… A little girl, about a decade younger than him, with a pair of wings and rolled up curls, clutching her face in terror. While the centaur was turned away in cowardice, the child had refused to look away, unable to move by the force of what she witnessed. The curve of her spine, the fingers digging into the cheeks underneath. No one of that age should make that expression. The glow within him pulsed faster, brightening her figure and giving him a full look at her eyes. Chris stared directly into the statue's eyes. They stared back. They were staring back. A high-piercing scream. “What the hell?” The ground started to shake, and the heavy pounding of hooves drew near. Shouts rode along with them, and they were coming fast. Chris snapped back into focus, and decided to race towards the hedges, which he could now see were cut into several intricate designs, such as shapes and other large figures. He figured these lights would eventually lead him to an exit. Just as he slipped out of view, the stampede of hooves rushed like a wave, their shouts were loud and clear. “Secure the gardens, I want a guard at every exit! We can’t let them escape!” But he managed to escape. Sure, it was a long grueling process, and he’d be picking twigs out of every part of his body for who knows how long, but a escape is an escape all the same. He stood himself against the wall with his arm, having now slithered behind a grouping of residential buildings, there were even some trash cans and such in the back. This wasn’t so easy, as the acid built up in his legs had been gnawing through the bone and muscle. They shook from the brittleness. The sweat ran down his muzzle in quick straight paths, and lapped over each other as they dripped onto the ground. By now, the warm streaks of the sky were beginning to fade out into the mid-morning blue. Partly cloudy, low humidity, comfortably warm. The kind of day fit for the weekend, not so much for the week, and especially not before the hump. A comfortable morning. A docile environment. Something sharp dug into his neck, making him stand upright with the pain. He glanced to his left to see a piece of green armor strapped to his shoulder, burnt and twisted into jagged edges. Most of this scrap was on his body when he woke up. He bit into the strap and tore it off, and slowly examined the metal in his hand before chucking it off to the side with a frustrated snort. It bounced and scrapped off the cobble as it faded into the dark. “I…was supposed to die back there,” He said, staring up to the sky again. Clouds clumped together to relieve him from the rays. “That woman, that thing, she was gonna gut me right then and there on those mountains. Probably bury me, too. Bury me deep, no one would know, no one would ever know.” The broken hoof of the statue came back to him. The stone ring on his leg cut just above where it had broken off. He looked back down at it and began to wonder. No way, that’d be an insane-downright insane thing to do. Not even the most psychotic of torture methods would pull something like that. “I wasn’t even dead yet, were they that eager to put me away?” He growled under his breath, “…Hmph, guess you went and jumped the gun on that one. You won’t get rid of me that easily, not for one second.” Suddenly, there was a large abrupt noise from above, as if the canvas sky were being torn in two by angry hands. It was a continuous whining roar coming fast in intensity, a sound similar to…fighter jets? He turned to the sound, just in time to see what looked like winged figures soaring in a uniform triangle shadow against the sun. As soon as they arrived, they were gone a second later, only leaving him with the noise. Indeed, it wasn’t an unusual sound to him, as many a major sporting pregame ceremony was alight in standard affairs with national nods. He always enjoyed seeing it. Maybe it was because of the flair. Maybe it was conditioning. “Oh my, did you see that?” A voice. “Considering how close they were when they buzzed us, how could I not?” Multiple voices. “They ought to be careful with their speed, or they might end up shattering some poor pony’s windows without realizing it.” These were distinctly of a human tongue, albeit with slight accents. These were soon paired with the hollow rhythmic tap of hooves on stone. Between the situation from the courtyard last night to echoes ringing out throughout the streets, he was confused on just where this new location was-well-located. Was it a gimmick for tourists? A lack of resources? Perhaps it was the preferred mode of transport for one traditional reason or another, he’d been to several small towns where daily rounds were made perched atop the saddle. He got the inkling they were more intelligent, especially when he found himself weeping at the pump watching a number go up a few digits more then the day before, and the day before that. He hobbled himself over to a small clearing between the buildings and peered around the corner, using an angle to keep his horn out of sight. Though awkward, he still got a decent view of the sidewalk proper. “Hey, wait a minute, those are members of the royal guard, about two-no, three of them!” “Then who’re they flying with? That looks like a normal pony to me.” He didn’t shout. He didn’t scream. He only stared in shocked silence. Horse people. Pony people. Unicorns, pegasi, and normal headed ones, sprayed in vibrant furs and lavish upper crust attire from a century or two past. Magical mortals of the mind, a far-flung species from the imagination going about their now very real lives. Acting none the wiser to the sheer impossibility of their own existence. He slinked away from the edge and returned to the shadow of the building. His eyes trailed off and began staring off into a corner of no real importance. His body began to shake a little. This must be her world, the one for the satyr of the night. Somehow being similar, yet separate to the one that he had left not mere hours ago. He knew it now, their little plan was complete. He was gone. Gone. Tired. Hungry. Stupid. Exiled. The corner now gained within itself new importance. To keep him connected to his fleeting sanity. Deep in his stomach, an empty pain stirred, like a great chasm had collapsed into his body. An abyss, waiting agape and wide for something warm, the longing for some forgotten desire, which seemed to elude him for what felt like years at this point. He wrapped his arms around his chest and closed his eyes. “You…will not…hold me here…” He whispered to himself, “Whoever you are, whatever you’re planning, it won’t succeed. It won’t…I refuse to let it.” He gripped tighter, feeling his nails dig into the chitin. Bits of warm fluids seeped around his fingers, while his body still shook. Something must be done, no action like this can go ignored, thinking it can go on without any form of impunity. Then came a long silence from him. Waiting patiently, he listened as the city streets began to stir, and the scraping shuffle of hooves started to overlap one another. A wave of words filled the air, shifting from a register of polite curiosity to a deeper concern with every pass and glance to the sky. He imagined they stopped and pointed, like the citizens of a silver-age superhero. “…I recognize that coat, it’s Princess Twilight. I wonder what she’s doing in Canterlot this morning?” “…Did you hear it? She told me it sounded like something crashing in the night…” “…Wonderful, I wonder what existential threat wants to wipe us off the face of Equestria this time…” “…No worries, honey, whatever it is, I’m sure the Elements are handling it…” The Elements? Chris thought to himself, his ears twitching with every word, like the knobs on a radio picking up a channel. He could remember in parts of the conflict that subject was mentioned, mainly in one of her boasts before trying to cut him down. Stating how they had a hand-or hoof rather-in solidifying his current predicament. Twilight…Princess Twilight…Sparkle… His mind filled the blank on its own. Why this word, he wasn’t too sure, but it came to him with an exceptionally nasty venom. It might’ve been something he subconsciously picked up during his blackout. The past few months were often filled with strange visions in the night. Sights of large destructive battle, fire and magics dancing around to the tune of whispered voices. He kept them to himself, chalking them up to his long hours of games and little hours of sleep that’d become a debilitating routine. It’s happened throughout his life, but the sheer volume recently had him concerned. Perhaps, rightfully so. “Twilight Sparkle, that sounds pretty closely tied to the moon if you ask me...” He said, heaving himself off the wall. “Well then, if I’m not supposed to be Chris Greene, then just who am I supposed to be, your highness?” While this entity didn’t answer, the void was filled with more voices continuing to chime in the choir of city cacophony. Of course, many of them unrelated and of little to no use, but a few were a bit more…informative. “…Could you see if they were heading to the train station…” “…When’s the first to Ponyville…” “…Need to hurry, they could ramp up security and we’re gonna miss it!” “…Out of all days, it just had to be today, ugh…” Chris looked back to the sky defiantly, and a sly smile curled on his muzzle. He walked over to where he threw the broken shoulder plate, and used it’s sharpened point to cut at the straps of the rest of the armor. He picked up the plates and dropped them in a nearby can. He stepped back and admired the rest of his body, rubbing a hand down the smooth surface and swished his tail across his backside. “Hmm, why don’t we find out…together?” He turned to the direction the formation was flying towards, determining just how many buildings and streets could be between him and this station. With a swift trot, he cut through the brisk air, and skinny dipped back into the depths of the shadows. Author's Note Hello once again, everyone. It’s been a long time, I know, I apologize. This was going to come out sooner around the same time as the rewrite was posted, but my schedule got filled as my semester was coming to a close. Don’t worry, that has finished, and there’s more to come! (I’ve been reading the comments, and I’m seeing the issues you guys are bringing up. Thank you for the critique, and I’ll do my best to address them in the future)
10. Good MourningView OnlineDouble Double10. Good MourningIt rang once. “C’mon.” It rang twice. “Come. On.” It rang thrice. There was a pause. Hi, you’ve reached the Greene’s. Unfortunately, we’re unable to come to the phone right now, so- “Sonofabitch, what’s the point of a damn landline if you’re never going to use it?” Such was the question of the hour, or rather several hours at this point, as Chris was continuing his long tedious drive back to home base. He had several routes mapped out on his phone from previous trips: different paths just for different scenarios, like dealing with a passing storm or skirting around the all-too-common congestion. Here, he chose to take the roads that while not the most straightforward, kept him out of view from any observant state cruiser watching by the shoulder. Nearing the end of August, they’d be itching to satisfy any lingering quotas on the books, not counting any other recent occurrences. However, this sneaky scenic detour came at the expense of any modern world amenities for the longest stretch. Such as traffic lights, or rest stops, or cell towers sprouting up on the horizon. A part of him was glad it hadn’t become too crowded…yet, but there was always going to be consequences leaving somewhere so disconnected. This was one such time. He sighed in frustration, putting the phone back in the cupholder and leaned back. He could feel the rough aged fabric rubbing against his back, along with a few strands sticking to the dried- “Guess I’ll have to give it another thirty or so. There’s a few telephone wires up there, so I should be coming up on a town. They should probably have a tower for me to try again.” The phone abruptly switched back to a playlist he was listening to, with phaser-ladened guitars and tip-tap cymbals aplenty in the old country sound. He couldn’t pin down exactly whose song it was again, but it didn’t really matter. As long as it kept his mind off the events in the rear view mirror, it could’ve been blown out radio static for all he cared. Least it’s not the gurgles of the cookie monster, like it usually is with Roman. I don’t know how he listens to that for five minutes, let alone forty-five. He tapped his fingers on the wheel to the bassline, eyeing the yellow double line to speed by a slow sedan soon as the opposite traffic cleared. Another benefit to taking paths less travelled is that said travelers aren’t too bothered when you move slightly out of the legal boundaries. That, or he didn’t hang around long enough to notice. By now, he’d shifted into hill country, with patches of greens and browns all over sweeping through bumpy rock and scattered brush. A high sitting sun, not a single could in the sky. What wonderful summer weather. Don’t look at it. Plenty of good biking trails around here. Hiking, too, especially if you can find one along the edge of the water. Stop a moment and relax, maybe even swim if you’re up for it. It’s not behind you, just keep driving and everything will be fine. You’re here by yourself, you were always by yourself. No one else. The lane opened, and he accelerated to cut in front. He was about halfway cleared when the sedan realized what he was doing, and proceeded to speed up himself. Causing him to blend back in just before their front bumper, a yelp of a tire squeal as the whine of the engine intensified. Though there was distance between them, that didn’t stop the driver from loudly objecting to his actions, with a heavy hand on the horn as they continued. And continued. And continued. He swiveled around, he hoped eye to eye with the silhouette behind the dark reflecting windshield and shouted at them. “Oh will you calm down? I didn’t even clip you, prick! How about next time, you actually use the pedal?” He looked down at it. The log was still in the backseat. He grumbled to himself as he slinked back to the road head, mentally applying blinders to nip the bud of any further blooming curiosity. His body was soon rushed by a wave of emotions, bringing him right back to where he was the night prior. It put him on edge, not even comfortable enough to sit still in his seat. Fingers trembling on the wheel, nerves and nasty looks from otherworldly beings burning holes in his head. He glanced outside. Plenty of bugs buzzing around, but no birds anywhere. So, we’re really going home? She’s coming…she’s…coming… Help. He smacked a frustrated hand on the wheel. A bead of sweat dripped down his face and into his nose, making him cringe. “This ain’t gonna work, lest I wanna go face first in a ditch. I need to…I don’t know, eat something, walk around for a while. I can’t keep sitting in this car. It’s fucking with my head.” He picked up the phone again and switched off the music app. Upon doing this, a low droning hum replaced the acoustics, rising and falling, like a heartbeat, causing the air to shimmer around the twisted bark. The lower register vibrated in his ears every couple seconds. He bet if he brought it closer to him he’d become nauseous from the sensation. Perhaps he should’ve used a different type of music for this, the kind from ‘outlaws’ as his mom referred to them. It seemed a nice period for her, considering how she reminisced; going on hours about the shows she went to, waiting in lines for records, getting things signed by the artists. He couldn’t really understand it, not being much of a concert goer. But, having the power to hold an entire crowd captive in the palm of your hand certainly had its allure. He always wondered about them. Not country singers per se, rather the culture they imitated and then later acquainted with in modern terms. The not-so-ancient mythology of the American frontier: outlaws and cowboys, horse riders and gunslingers. It was hard to miss, considering the region. Surrounded by timeworn structures and statues to the names of history, the legacies of fantastical viewpoints in the maturing of the nation. What if he were to bring those burgeoning pioneers to the here and now? Could this be what they envisioned to themselves when pursuing the divine merits of manifest destiny? The low hum continued to dig into his ears, by now giving him a splitting headache. He looked down at himself. The bloody shirt stuck to the fibers of the seat belt. “Clothes. I think they’d say some clothes would be in order first.” He parked near the edge of the lot. The engine gave out an unceremonious sputter, followed by the soft clicks popping away into the nothing. He sat silently, tapping his fingers on his thighs and looking around. Sparse traffic would pass, a car here, a truck there, but nothing too congested to warrant driving to another spot. Most people should just be rolling out of the house now. That doesn’t explain all the cars here in the lot already… He tilted the rearview towards him to thoroughly examine himself, most importantly, his face. His hair, which was far too long, slick with grease and sweat, was mangled from a severe case of bedhead. It looked like an animal had nested on his head. He raked his fingers through it while continuing to angle his face in the tiny mirror. Somehow, it’d escaped the ordeal completely unscathed, not even a single drop of blood. The sheer ridiculousness of it all made him chuckle a little, knowing that the aftermath was sitting just below the confines of the little strip, and within there, you would never notice. Maybe he should thank Chrissy for being courteous enough to leave crucial assets untouched. Well, almost untouched, as the weird lump under his shirt made at the very least translucent. Last he checked, it wasn’t good behavior to feast on other people’s hearts, whether figurative or literal. He wiped away a light film of sweat, and refocused. “Shirt and shoes, that’s all you need from here. Just a shirt and shoes. That’s it, nothing more.” He instructed to the equally serious eyes looking back at him. “And if anyone asks what happened, you cut yourself shaving. With a weedwhacker.” Behind him, the pulsating glow appeared from the backseat. His eyelids fell with an annoyed groan. Sure enough, it was the log, with its various symbols illuminated by a green light from within. “Of course, you’d want to throw your two cents in, wouldn’t you?” He scowled. “Well, guess you ain’t needing any clothes now, and you sure as hell ain’t coming in with me.” He hit a button on his key to open the trunk. He went to the back and grabbed it. Upon touching the coarse bark, he was hit with an intense shock, every nerve in his finger erupting with heat. Like he’d stuck his hand in a raging fire. He quickly ran to the trunk, tossed it in and slammed it shut. He forcefully shook out his hand, even hopping around on one foot till it dissipated. The thing’s muffled groan could still be heard from under the lid. Quit your whining, I’ll be right back. He casually walked to the entrance, with giant glass panels reflecting the bright open sunshine. Wincing the whole time, somehow finding every pebble and puddle scattered on the asphalt. Whatever hydration left in him rolled down his back, airing out the giant tear. It also helped most bloodstains were now on his back, so face-to-face wouldn’t be as suspicious as looking like he fed someone through a woodchipper. The doors parted with a bright, welcoming chime, and he stepped forward in the middle of the frame, letting cold air waft over him with relief. Air conditioning, what a wonderful invention. Its presence was so overwhelming his body stopped on its own a few seconds, eyes closed, deep breaths. A sudden tiredness followed, weightlessness in his legs, but he managed to wrangle back support of himself and moved inside. The place was more spacious than it let on, which was both a positive and a negative quality. A pseudo-rustic detailing to its design, just enough to draw those visiting from the big cities playing pretend the role of the everyman. Wooden furniture stood around ceramic tiles and reflective metal. Studio lights, a chandelier hanging from exposed beams, even a longhorn skull. Something was in the air, like a fragrance, but it all turned to an unrecognizable mush between the wood, sweat, and copper. The tiles were cold on his damp socks, the bottom halves leaving greyish prints for a time. Not his concern now. Instead, he was focused on finding the best way to make his arm across his back a natural position. It wasn’t. What if he told them he had a strange case of an eternal itch, cursed to never be relieved by the elusive sweet spot? …Don’t say cursed. It appeared he didn’t have to worry about any pestering passersby since everyone else was going off a similar game plan. Most were quiet, talking to who they came with but never a word to him. Not even a sideways glance as he shuffled by. He quietly went around the store a few minutes, just as he’d typically do most of his shopping trips. Music continued to play somewhere, he could feel it in his ears, but he couldn’t make it out. Somewhere in front of him, maybe. He looked up and followed the ceiling trim, eventually focusing on a corner. A small white speaker, and just underneath, a camera. He stood there staring at it. Then he went down another beam and noticed a second camera in a similar position. It, too, was pointed in his direction. His heart began to beat harder. He looked behind him, then forward again. “Relax.” He whispered to himself. “Just relax. Those are for other reasons. You’re here to buy and leave.” He looked back at them. …Could she mimic something inorganic? How would that even work? An organism turning mechanical, and to be that small. Everything she’s done prior has been alive to some extent, a human, a bird, a…well, I guess horse partly. But a camera? He did remember when she was in the car with him, and how she was able to make clothing out of her own shell and flesh, or whatever goop made up her insides. Whatever it was, clothes weren’t made out of it. He didn’t panic, just picked up the pace a few beats faster. The others continued to ignore him, which was good ultimately, but now their almost singular behavior of being distracted was starting to distract him. Except for one head, one person who turned just as he moved out of sight. He sped up a little more. You didn’t see me, you didn’t see me, you didn’t see me- “Hello, sir?” You saw me. He froze on the spot and bowed his head to the ground. A blurry vignette of his hunched figure stared back at him through the tiles. He closed his eyes, and his mouth became a thin line. Everything grew quiet. “Excuse me, sir?” He swallowed, exhaled out his nose loudly, and nodded. “Yes?” He responded with tired rasp and turned to the voice. He went pale. “Are you finding everything alright?” Jane. A hitch in his breath. “I, uh…” He took a small step back and blinked a few times, yet she remained in full clarity, hands clasped together at her waist. Watching him with a kind smile. “…maybe?” She tilted her head, brow furrowed. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little green around the gills there. No offense.” The air in his throat caught his vocals, emitting a low croak. Say something. “Wha-no, no, you’re fine. Bad night, didn’t get any sleep, you know how it is.” “Yeah, some nights can be a real mess.” She replied in a soft, understanding tone. Same hair. Same eyes. Same face. A complete carbon copy from the motel, save for the change in uniform, wearing this store’s staff t-shirt with a pressed logo. He continued to stare at her slack-jawed, an index finger held up before him as he tried to find his voice. It curled, extended, then curled again. Meanwhile, she continued to stand there, calm and smiling. He brought his knuckles up to his mouth, closing it. “Sorry.” He finally said through an awkward chortle. “It’s just, haven’t we met before?” “No.” “You sure? I think we did, could’ve sworn we spoke just yesterday.” She gazed off to the side, pursing her lips to show visually racking her brain, then shaking her head. “Nope, sure I would’ve remembered you. I mean,” She unfolded her hands and held them up, one high above the other to demonstrate height. “kinda hard to miss that.” He rolled his eyes dismissively, letting his shoulders relax. “Whatever, I don’t have the patience to argue with it anymore. If life wants to keep thrashing me around every time I try to get some sense, then I’ll gladly stand here and plant my feet in confusion.” He didn’t care if she heard him at this point. Because from what he could see, he was destined to be the world’s wacky wonders whipping post whether he wanted it or not. Do as you please, as long as it makes this experience go by quicker. “Hmm, alright. Well, since I’m here now, is there anything I can help you find? I hate to see someone so turned around.” “Sure, why not?” He replied, giving her a dispassionate shrug. “You want to help me? I need a new shirt and a pair of shoes.” She nodded, obviously attempting to hold back a grimace. “I’ll say, that one looks like it’s been put through the wringer long enough. And,” She paused. “You’re not wearing any shoes.” “No, I’m not.” She crossed her arms in playful disapproval. “You know, company policy technically states you shouldn’t even be in here looking like this.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know full well about the three S’s.” “But,” She continued, “I’ll give you a pass today, considering how…unexpected last night must’ve turned out.” “You have no idea.” I believe I do. “And, from a certain point of view, dirty socks could be considered a form of footwear, yes?” “I’m not gonna go that far now. I believe in at least a few social norms, and everyone needs a pair of shoes. Everyone. Hell, even horses need a pair from time to time, you know what I mean?” She smiled again and nodded. “Yes, sir, I understand completely.” They were in the back corner of the store without a word more to detour. He continued to study her over, though he’d told himself he wouldn’t. And as he rightfully suspected, yes, this Jane was the same as the last Jane he’d spoken to. As a matter of fact, he could’ve sworn he’d seen another girl similar practicing on the baseball fields in between his walks around campus. Though, that one might’ve been stretching it a little. She carefully walked her fingers between each of the hanging fabrics, “Shirts, shirts, shirts,” She mumbled to herself like a tune, then turned back to him. “As you can see, we have a wide variety of colors and cuts. Something here for any occasion.” He nodded absently, not even focusing on her sales spiel enough to start sifting through the clothing racks. Instead, he was keeping a close eye on the rest of the near statuesque customers. “Yeah, that’s cool, but I just need one thing. Nothing too fancy.” “Of course, of course,” She responded, “Are there any brands you fancy in particular?” “I just said nothing fan-oh,” He glanced over at her, “I don’t know, Levi’s fine, I guess, same as my jeans. Large, if you have it.” “Of cours~se.” Aside from the store music, the rest was eerily quiet, with most small talk ceased and now they were all standing around mute. He caught one of her coworkers, somewhat lacking in the title, trying to restock a shelf. Though he was viewing her from a profile, the expression on her face was clear to see. The lack of one. Blank. Eyes wide open. Never blinking. Jesus, someone’s really into the wares, or we’re running on more than just coffee this morning. But that ain’t the excuse for everyone else. Something strange is afoot…as it’s been for a while. Man, I hate being like this, but I ain’t exactly got a choice here. A tap on the shoulder. “Hmm?” She'd come uncomfortably close to him, almost touching his back if he hadn't moved. But, kept smiles all the way. “It appears you’ve finally hit a stroke of luck 'cause I’ve got one of these in stock for ya.” ‘These’ in question happened to be a long-sleeved button-down in black. His brow perked up. For once, he actually had a slight curl in his lips, “Well now, would you look at that?” He said, finally taking in the small victory of something going right, and best of all, normal. He also caught on to the big self congratulatory smirk on her face. “How’d you figure me for this persuasion?” She shrugged, “Had a feeling you’d like it, I could tell right away. I think it’ll go well with your eyes.” “Ah, right,” He replied, taking the shirt in hand, rubbing the dark denim. “Definitely that. It couldn’t have anything to do with the big seven-zero printed on the tag here. Must be pure coincidence.” “You asked for a cut and brand. That’s what I have to offer. If it’s not to your liking, we can find something else, Chris.” “No, this is fine. Wait, how’d you-“ “You said you needed shoes next, yes~s?” “Yeah, but-“ “Perfect, follow me.” She motioned a hand at him and began walking off. “I think we have something you’re really gonna like.” “Wait a minute, what about-“ But by that point, she was already well on her way to the shoe aisles, clearly drowning out his quivering questions. He grumbled to himself, annoyed, and did as instructed. He looked down at the shirt. Still got the hanger, metal hook. Twist that off, and I can hide the sharp end between my fingers. The wood, well, that’ll be a blunter approach. We’re closer to the emergency exit, but I bet I can make it to the front if I double time it. "Hey, is everyone around here usually this zoned out?" "Zoned out?" "Yeah, it's awfully quiet for the amount of people Even your coworkers look kinda out of it." She gave him a dull glare on their behalf, putting her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't be like that, it is still early in the morning. I agree it is strange to see this many customers just when the doors opened, but I'm not going to judge. That would be uncalled for. Not all of us have the privilege of being early birds." His ears hung onto the weird stilted cadence of her response, not to mention the hissing trail off every now and then. Was she doing it on purpose, because if not, it was far worse than any valley girl he'd ever been subject to, and he'd had plenty enough of that annoyance before. ...How did she know his name? Did he slip it in conversation on accident at some point? No, he couldn't have... Just then, a box was shoved into his stomach, knocking some wind out of him. He took it in his hands, saving it from spilling. “Why don’t you do me a favor and take a gander at those, hmm? Believe me, I think you’ll find them to be some real lookers~s.” She giggled. Uh oh. Red flag. He smiled nervously, while trying to hand the box back to her. “Oh, no thank you, please. I appreciate the effort, but all I need is-“ To open the box. Now. The lid was now on the floor at his feet, and he was left peering in. “Woah…” He whispered, eyes widening slowly. He studied the boots wrapped neatly in their packing paper thoroughly. “This is…lizard skin…” A curious fingered lowered inside, itching to trace along the bumpy scales. “Lucchese, I believe.” Her voice came from behind him now, just over his shoulder. The mere utterance of the brand caused him to retract his hand. She moved over next to him and pointed at them herself. “This material is tougher to break, but well worth the effort. Very flexible and s~scratch resistant.” “Are you out of your mind?” He exclaimed, still looking down. “There’s no way I’m affording these! I like boots as much as anyone else, but you need to get your head out your read end. Don’t you sell sneakers or something?” But she was determined in her decision, for reasons completely unknown. “Please, you need to reconsider.” She said while wrapping a gentle hand around his wrist. Her touch was smooth yet ice cold. “They’ll look real captivating on you. S~Surely some s~stuffy old s~sneakers won’t s~suffice, yes~s?” He shook her off, not attempting to hide his frustrations any longer. “First, knock that shit off with your voice. It’s really irritating. Second, I don’t have hundreds of dollars waiting to be burned, so there’s no point pushing it.” It was then Chris saw something weird. Somehow. Even at this point. From the angle he moved the box, the light above cast large white reflections on the polished boot scales. This glare flashed upon her face, yet she failed to react realistically. For a moment, her eye shone like glass. Then, becoming see-through, and behind them a faint teal color filled up the entirety of the sclera. She jumped back in front of him, but those eyes had a new intensity. “C’mon, humor a girl and at least try them on, will ya?” “Forget it,” He turned around to put the box back on the shelf. “Why am I even bothering with this? I’ll just do it myself.” He snapped, only to smack face first into… A wooden door. “Ow! What the-“ He stepped back, rubbing his forehead in pain, said frustrations fading away for the confusion he boldly claimed he steeled himself for, now realizing he may be in way over his head. How’d we get all the way back to the dressing rooms, and I never noticed! I thought we were just by the- “In this world, cooperation is key, Chris.” She said with a newfound seriousness. “It’s a successful factor to any operation. Whether it be between retail coworkers or even a nation’s standing army spanning a thousand. Cooperation is the stitches that keep the flapping sole fastened to the worn toe box. Of course, some worry more for surface-level affairs, making sure color families match or if they meet certain dress requirements. But for me, I’m focused on the foundation rather than the display. After all, you can’t build any sound atop what could easily become nothing. Loosen a stitch here, tear a hole there, and with enough time, you’ll be left holding unwound strands, leaving that person and whatever desires they hold bare.” “I…I don’t….” “Do you understand what I’m saying?” “…No.” She twisted the knob on the door until the deadbolt clicked, staring him down the whole time. Chris could still feel her icy chills all over him. “Step inside.” Before he could protest, before she’d even fully opened the door, he was standing in the middle of a small dressing room and his feet encased around something tight and firm. He looked down to see he was wearing the boots. His dirty, bloody, soggy, pebble-ridden socks inside a pair of clean, minimum five hundred dollar lizard skin boots. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped if it wasn’t pounding away like a jackhammer at a rapid pace. And with that, his t-shirt began to glow, as shades of green faded onto the walls and coat hooks. No, no, no, not now! He panicked, trying helplessly to cover it, but the light was too strong to snuff out. She stepped in next, closing the door and locking it. She continued to stare at him quietly, eyes without expression, which only made his heart beat faster. He could probably be another thirty minutes closer to home now if he’d stayed on the road. Mom probably wouldn’t even be too shook at his current state anyways. She’d just be happy enough to see him. Jane’s head dipped down to the boots, which he was most definitely shaking in, her stare slowly morphing into a scowl. Then, she shifted to his chest, the green light pulsating on her stonelike expression. “H-Hey, look, I-uh-I didn’t really mean what I said out there, ok? Not to you, at least. Like I said, I-I’ve had it pretty rough lately.” Rough? Yes, it’s been rough. That much we can agree on, especially when one being has become the singular source of all your woes. You sit there, frantic in your desperate struggles, grasping for a hold of the situation, while the perpetrator mocks you with a calm, unaware demeanor. Oh, if only you could get your hooves on the bastard… Her face didn’t move, not even a slight twitch of her lips. Yet she spoke with a clear resonance far above normal conversation. It sounded like it was coming from within his own head. She tilted up fully to meet his nervous gaze, where he could now see her neck glowing with a slickly green hue. A finger snaked under his shirt and began pulling it upward. She spoke again, and he saw the light flicker with each enunciation. The things you yearn to investigate, peel back the layers of your dreadful situation, and get down the main reasons. Yes~s, you wonder what it is you’ll unearth if you were able to confront this being. To sit down with them and have a little heart-to-heart. She gave him a cruel smile as the shirt pulled up to his neck and raised her other hand. A slender finger extended out from a tight fist and brought it to the pounding chest plate. Her glare shifted once more, becoming solely focused on the organ, her mouth hanging open with a trail of drool. The fingertip pressed against the plate. A feeling clicked within him, something more akin to an instinct rather than any rational reaction. If he were acting rational, he would’ve just forced her off him with some brash insult before storming out to get to the rest of his day. Sure, it wasn’t cool, and whatever feelings between them would sour beyond any chance of recovery, but it’d be the best overall outcome for everyone involved. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a disconnect somewhere from his brain to his brawn, as his hand clenched like a vice around the slim wrist holding his shirt and yanked her towards him. It followed without resistance, leaving her upper body exposed. She was so caught off guard, her head jerked and her spine bowed backwards. This split second action was then immediately followed up by his leg pulling back, muscles taut with power, and ramming full force into her stomach. The cavity caved around the kneecap easily, molding to the shape of the bone in a thick putty. However, what it’d connected to was not skin and organs, but another layer lurking underneath. One smooth and hard, feeling it rupture against his leg. The shatter filled the dressing room with loud hollow snaps. Her shell. She keeled over and began coughing violently, each heave flush with liquids rushing from her gut. His body didn’t waste another second, as his other hand came down on her unkempt brunette mop and grabbed a fistful of the tangled mess. He swore he even felt some strands rip between his fingers. His arms pulled her head back and shoved her into the wall as he let out a enraged alien shriek. The force actually lifted her off the ground a few inches, and she connected with full weight, the back of her head a blurry brown explosion. A shower of splintered debris rained down on both of them. He heard another crack on impact, and a mist of black sprayed across the pale wooden panels. He collapsed backwards, but she refused to move. The back of her neck was skewered on the coat rack hook. Black dribble clumped her hair into wet strands, while other streaks were going down her arms and shirt. She reached behind her desperately trying to get a grip on the hook, her face gnashing and twitching with a rabid frenzy. Then, the female features suddenly gave way, and morphed into a dark muzzle of alien anatomy. Giant emotionless eyes, sharp teeth, spastic tongue squirming around a black smooth shine. It was only now that Chris was able to get a hold of himself and got up from the floor. “I knew it,” He said quietly before raising to a shout. “I fucking knew it, you’re one of them!” She shrieked with an aggressive chattering, “How dare you! When I’m through with you, you’ll be nothing but a shriveled hu~usk!”A green blast appeared above her head and shot towards him. He jumped back, feeling a sting in his shoulder, connecting with the door and falling out, making it swing wide with a bang! He didn’t take time process what’d just occurred, bouncing off and sprinting down back to the main section of the store. The boots didn’t push off the wooden floor much as they pressed right through them. He could almost feel the nails flinging out from the old boards. He didn’t know where he was going. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Author's Note Hello…long time no see. This was originally going to be one, very long chapter, but I decided instead it would be best to break them apart. The next parts will be out soon. Until then, good to be back. I’ll try not to be gone for that long again.
1. Toe Cutter Thumb BusterView OnlineDouble Double1. Toe Cutter Thumb BusterThis was it. An entire life of training, torture, trials, and tribulations all preparing him for this exact moment. Just as it had come for the others. He knew full well that this task was not unique, as many men had tried to take up the mantle before him. Just as many men had fallen. But it did not matter, as this burden was one not suited for the selfish ones. You must do what you can for those that matter most, even if it meant death. It could all be taken from you, a life vanquished in an instant strike of accurate execution, falling to the ancient earth below, and becoming lost to time. The heavy rain drenched him in oppressive darkness, stinging as cold as the steel that surrounded his figure. As was the one in his hand, sharpened to a razor's edge, jagged like the black rock that sprouted from the ground, points wet with prior impalement. Cracks ripped through with sludgy magma roots, the walls imploding in on themselves with every flash of the fiery white-hot lightning. This domain was not long for this plane of existence; eventually, it would shed from this mountain face and fall endlessly into the black void of nothingness expanding beneath them. As were the duelists themselves, now being eroded by the tides of war. His armor was beginning to harden from the caked blood of those who’d tried to oppose him on his journey, to which his response was swift and merciless. Chunks of grimy gore and agitated innards piling up in his garments underneath, attempting to find entrance within the slashes and gouges spread across his body. Breath heavy, every labored cycle thick with spit and blood. Every bone ready to break, every tendon near a tear. In his nose, the suffocating smell of iron, steel, and fur. His opponent grounded its hoof into the charred rock, blowing furious smoke from its snarling snout. It let out a booming roar straight from the bowels of its gut, where his fellow comrade's treacherous stories would come to a bitter end, and charged for him. Horns pointed directly to impale. Each stomp shook his skeleton, the slams of hard nail blasted into his eardrums. It was overwhelming to his body’s limited senses. But his willpower won out in the end, as it controlled his body just enough to perform a sloppy sidestep, accompanied by a blind swing of his sword. No luck. Just a smack on the beast’s horn as it barreled past, lighting the storm in a quick shower of sparks. The beast gave an annoyed grunt upon impact, coming to a hard stop and turned to him once more. Beady holes of its eyes seething with hatred. That a mere mortal would dare stay in its sight without bending knee, let alone attempt to strike him when the consequences were littered around the battlefield. He looked down to see an object hanging low from a few tendrils of meaty string. It was its horn, now knocked loose from its socket. He snorted and took it within one of his massive paws and ripped it clean from his skull. Blood spurting out onto his charcoal fur and the hide of his leathery armor punctured deep and sticky with dried miscalculations. He flicked it around between his fingers and fired it back at his rushing adversary with the force of a hundred cannons over. He was too winded to avoid altogether, as it plunged itself deep within his left forearm. Vision going white from the severe shock of pain. Recovering from a stumble, he immediately took his other arm to the horn. Twisting, tugging, screaming to pry it out. The beast made its move once more, charging again in familiar patterns. Its fangs were wide with a grin as it came down for a finishing blow, swinging wide with its huge battle axe. He’d only just managed to remove the horned projectile as it’d lunged for him. Throwing himself to the ground at the very last second, in time to hear the deafening whoosh of the blade go right over his head. Where his neck was a moment prior. Many necks. But as long as his mind was still in working order, he was going to use it. He heard the beast howl with laughter as he pulled his jittery body to its feet. He spat some blood to the side and wiped his mouth—eyes finding their way down to the more bovine appendages of the beast’s anatomy. An idea was beginning to form. “Fool! Your elders should’ve warned you of daring to come before my hooves! They must have finally given in to their ever-growing madness, deciding to send a servant as lowly as you…” He let out a demonic chuckle as he began to circle him, tail swishing playfully as he picked at his prey. “It’s a pity, truly. To think you could’ve surrendered yourself to a swifter end. I offered you one before, one that was quick and painless. You could have saved yourself from the jaws of destruction that were to come. But no…your kind and their pathetic pride would not allow themselves to accept my blessings. You had to be so stubborn in your minds when death was granting you voyage to the gods you so hastily call upon in times of peril…” he stopped and turned his head, gazing out onto the fields of flame and wreckage. “…Yet here you are, having been led straight through the gates of Armageddon. Your party long since perished, your homelands ravaged, your peasantry enslaved, your queen…vanished.” Another perverse laugh from the beast. He slowly watched it trot triumphantly. Steadying his breath. “…And you, right back where you started. Once more having found yourself under my blade. Only now I shall hold my graces, as you are no longer deserving of mercy. You are going to die, just as slow…and as painful as the rest of them. I just hope you are…satisfied with your actions.” His unwavering glare burned into the beast as his limbs slowly aligned themselves to the proper stance. Fingers gripped tight around the hilt. “You dare mock me, worm? You think you are deserving of a warrior's death?” He drove a hoof into the ground, causing a crater with visible shockwaves. “Ha! Weakling! You couldn’t even hold your own with the herd's lowest standing cattle! And now you wish to perish with this illness you call honor?” His jaw remained tight, never moving from his position. “Hmm, I suppose I could humor myself for the time being and let this servant believe he died for something. Then witness as his very soul is crushed as I lay waste to the rest of his kingdom’s land.” The beast finally stopped its pacing and readjusted himself, muscles flexing into form as he positioned to charge once more. Guard suppressed as he had already declared himself the victor. The land had their new Master, their new King. Forever the sun would shine down upon the Marauder banner. He knew it was coming, and at this point, he wasn’t exactly a patient man. With sword in hand, his legs shot him into a sprint, attempting to tuck his near useless arm. The beast was slightly surprised but shook it off as he continued to go straight for him, closing the gap in a matter of seconds. He pulled his arm back and flung it across his body in an arc, throwing an object the beast’s way, aiming straight between the eyes. The beast’s torso straightened in an attempt to block this unknown object. Exposing his lower half even more, revealing a space between his legs. An opening. He used his forward momentum as he went to his knees in a slide. Shredding the skin of the caps as he shot in between the beast’s legs. It’d turned its head in a moment of shock, moving guard away from the right side of its body even more. He took his sword and swung it towards the open hind leg in a stabbing motion. This time right on target as the blade buried itself deep within the fur all the way down to the femur. The beast reared as it let out a roar of pain, beginning to lose its footing. He wasted no time as he sprang to his feet and dragging the sword across the leg. The serrated edge tore through the muscle and bone in an explosion of blood. The beast was thrown to the ground, rolling a few times before coming to a stop on its back. He tried to move the appendage, signals from his nerves only managing to twitch it slightly. It was now useless. As was his earlier defense, he soon realized his opponent threw mere pebbles at him. Nothing that would cause serious damage, only a distraction for what came after. The few snorts of pain were drowned out by ear-splitting shrieks of rage. Attempting to lift itself, he leaped onto the beast in one mighty jump. A slash knocking the axe from its grasp, along with a few fingertips. He then twirled it around his hand and plunged it downward into its left pectoral. At first, only breaking the leather of its armor as it struggled to get up. He used his right fist and hammered on the pommel, causing it to sink deeper into the skin. The muscle tissue. The ribcage. Until the tip of his sword began to pulsate with a muffled, rhythmic thumping. The beast bellowed as it threw him to the ground, breaking off the steel buried in its chest. He landed hard, feeling a weird snap from his right foot. “Insolent worm! Your skull will serve well as my new fuck hole!” Stumbling upright, it catapulted himself from one hoof, the remaining horn pointed forward. He was just able to turn as it skewered in the weaker arm's shoulder, a sickening pop as it was torn from its socket. If it weren’t for the adrenaline, as well as the countless potions coursing through his veins, he would’ve blacked out from the immediate excruciating pain. Sheer determination, allowed him to grip tightly to a handful of fur on the back of its massive neck and pulled him closer, plunging the horn deeper as he sent one last kick towards the sword tip. His boot connected. The steel disappeared. Both recoiled upon impact. Stripping him of the horn, leaving his left arm dangling from tendons as he managed to stay on his feet. He collected the better half of his sword. The beast collapsed to its hands as one clutched at its chest where a powerful red spray shot out. He ran up in one final push, taking the sword in a dramatic, flourishing arch and striking it down with every last bit of energy left in his body. The visceral crunch of bone rang out with a mighty crack of thunder. Eyes twitching once…before the head slowly separated from its spine, landing to the ground with an idle smack. The beast had spread many lies within its time, spitting vile enough to fill the kingdom’s vast seas. But now, they had evaporated, only leaving room for the ruby river of truth to flow eternally. The beast…The Marauder. Utterly defeated…dead. "B-...By the gods...you..." He paused from releasing the restraints and looked at her. "...You...lived. I..." She nodded once, and he unlatched the others. "The royal saurs shall have a fantastic feast once we offer them his rotting corpse...perhaps we should include those dreadful theatre kings now that I think about it." He offered no response as she pulled herself from the grounds of decayed flesh and crumbled bone, many skeletons piled around and picked clean. "Right...nevermind that, we must make haste. Lead the way, my most faithful warrior." He'd been called upon to her private quarters secluded deep with the castle of the air. Not a call many of his rank are given, especially given the injuries he was busy recovering from; how they managed to save his arm he'll have no idea, he was never one for magic. Even more so when the message stated it was an emergency of upmost urgency. He parted the beaded curtains as he walked through the doorway, slightly crouching as he did so. He found within her sleeping chambers, laid out amongst her bed in a relaxed pose. The newest, youngest, and dare he say most gifted queen of the monarchy. But that sort of talk remained in private with the members of the guild. She was dressed in her sleeping garments, adorned with the most elegant patterns of paisley, shining bright with the kingdom's colors. Her long black hair loose, falling gently all around her porcelain face. "Ah, it's you! My apologies about the wording of the letter. The messenger, he can be so...literal at times. Always so serious, always so worried." She giggled as she sat up on the bed, swinging her legs over the side. He gave her a nod but nothing more, causing her to frown. "...I suppose those are warranted, given our recent hardships. Trying to rebuild...to reclaim our prior peace." She looked out a window, a faint smile appearing on her face as she slowly rose to her feet. She sauntered her way over to him, swaying her hips in exaggerated fashion. "But those will return in due time...for now, there is a more pressing matter that must be addressed. It has come to my attention that you were never truly thanked for what you did for me, and that...that simply will not do." She ran a hand down his chest, making her way to his chiseled abdomen as she untied the robe from his torso. "That simply will not do at all." She led him over and laid him out on her bedspread, sheets stitched together with the most exotic materials by the hands of the finest seamstress of the family. Many candles were lit, their scented wax dripping with a thick seductive scent. As he laid flat, she climbed atop and positioned herself upon his waist. It was here he discovered she wasn't wearing her undergarments. "So I figured I'd do the honors myself. I am forever grateful for what you've done. For me, for the kingdom, for the whole world. You're someone who I would place my safety in the hands of...without a second thought." She gently leaned forward, putting her face inches away from his own, striking blue eyes like the sky staring deep. Giving him a mischievous smile all the way. "Which is why I'm entrusting you with one final mission. The last crusade you'll ever need to complete, warrior." She gave him a small peck on the lips and sat up again. Moving her hands around the ribbon of her dress. Exposing her body with every twist and turn of the elegant strap. "To brave the storms of battle, the ever cascading tides of war, buried deep within the bowels of hell-oh yes! You are the one I trust for such an endeavor!" Most of her cleavage was visible now, as was her soft stomach while she held the garment taut between her arms. She gave him a final wink as she let it fall behind her. "Just me...and youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-" Black. "What the?" He stood up straight and looked around in confusion. His eyes wide open, yet he still couldn't see anything through the prior blackout. Only now the void had been accompanied by a white wireframe box encasing him. He looked down to where his hands would be located, instead he found two identical stumpy handles. "Oh no..." He brought his hands up and pulled the visor from his face, squelches from the suction of sweat as it slid up his forehead. No longer was he sprawled out in the queen's royal chambers, nor was he flung into an all encompassing black hole. Now, he was present in the middle of the dull beige cage that was his college dorm. He saw a pop-up icon buzzing on his monitor, with a bright red circle and an X. He walked over and leaned down to investigate, squinting as he adjusted to the bright screen. The software was closed because an error occurred. "Aww c'mon! Are you being serious right now? They just released a huge update for this thing a few days ago!" He groaned in frustration as he closed the window, removing the headset and putting it on his desk with a careless chuck. He stepped back and ran his hands down his face, exhaling loudly before swinging them lifelessly by his sides. "I can't fucking believe this, that was the ending...I killed the final boss...the final cutscenes. I was right there! They were right there, just frames away!" His hands shot back up, cupping the air at chest level, replaying those final moments. His fingers gave a single squeeze, as both shoulders fell in disappointment. "Goddamnit Chris, you should've known it was gonna end like that. You can't even maintain a relationship in the actual world, what made you think a pair of polygons wanted anything to do with you?" It was always the same story, the same script. Only difference with each remake being the swapping of the lead actress. They would meet up, enjoy each others company for a few weeks, and then she would storm out on him. Citing the reason as feeling drained when being around him. Always the same reason. The last one had been quite a while ago, and hit just as hard as...well, like a minotaur gorging you straight in the gut with its horns. Now he'd been left to himself, standing around in his socks and underwear, sweating away his life browsing through the internet and playing video games till the wee hours of the night. Wait a minute...no...does that say AM? Impossible, how could it happen? Didn't the clock say 11:30 like 10 minutes ago? "Come to think of it, that last leg of the level was a real slog. Deciding to use the throw everything in the kitchen sink method of level design to make it look like a challenge. And that final boss was just...I don't know. The constant charge-hit-dodge pattern was kinda lazy, and that last sequence was nothing but quick time! ...Guess it looked cool..." But man did it take a lot out of him, more so than most of his playthroughs. Sure he came out victorious in the end, but much like his digital counterpart he'd been stricken by many aliments. His arms were sore, eyes were burning, stunk like a skunk, so tired he was just on the cusp of unconsciousness, and above all else he was so hungry he could eat a horse! ...Not his horse of course, he'd suffered through enough quests to obtain that steed. After a quick clean up and even quicker dressing, he made his way into the dorm's mini kitchen, pilfering through his mini fridge. He took out a bottled water and twiddled his fingers around the few shelves until he settled down on an oddly shaped apple. He bit into it, where upon immediately shattering his teeth into shards. "Oh, right...it's frozen, you insomniac idiot." He lazily mumbled to himself. Wincing from the pain, especially in his canines. He reached down into a drawer and pulled out a kitchen knife, placing the apple on the counter and began to messily cut into its core. Chop. Chop. ...Chop. ... ... ...Cho-ow! "Son of a bitch!" He jumped back from the counter, grabbing at his index finger. A dull throbbing of pain creeping through his hand from the sudden slice. Guess that's what I get for using sharp shit while sleep deprived. He moved the knife and apple to the side as he went through the mindless motions of nursing the wound, if only he had a menu for it. He ran the tap water over the cut, those ruby rivers flowing strong as it washed around his hand and dripping into the sink drain. It was fairly sized, considering he'd put more force into the chop. Nothing too dire, but definitely needing a bandage. A wonderful way to start the day. He rubbed his thumb and index together, taking on a bright tint of red. Then a darker red. A deep wine red. His blood ran deeper in hue until the point it started appearing black, with a weird iridescent highlight of green and blue. The only thing he could compare it to would be the oil runoff you'd find after a rainstorm. In a moment of tired confusion, he pulled his finger up to his face. Still running black. He put it under the sink again, just to be sure. Still black. His brain could only respond with a strange chuckle. "I guess it's true what they say about video games, they do indeed rot your brain...and your blood cells apparently." Now he was starting to see things due to just how tired he was. Because there was...something else that appeared incredibly peculiar. For the water of the sink wasn't cupping around his hand before spilling over. Instead it was falling straight through his palm. He pulled his hand away and examined it once more. The blackened blood still dribbled, falling along the lines of his hand and disappearing. Another spike of twisted curiosity as he took his other hand and attempted to feed it through the invisible passageway. Sure enough, he was able to pass four fingers through, wiggling the fingertips to confirm. His face remained unmoved, with only his eyes bulging and mouth agape as he maneuvered them slightly. The hole was surprisingly smooth, as if someone had bored through the bone and finely sanded it to a polished finish. He became even more concerned when he began to have a similar feeling, or rather lack of feeling, in his other hand. "What...the...fu-" A sharp breath as he stumbled backwards, catching himself on the wall. He couldn't clearly pinpoint what was going on with his body, but something was most definitely wrong. Actually, no, scratch that. Many things were wrong. The feeling in his fingers and toes nulled away into severe numbness. At the same time, the early signs of an intense headache and throbbing from his shoulders. His voice became harsh with a painful sounding rasp. Oh yeah, and also the teensy, very tiny issue of every single vein becoming visible through his skin in a sickly green glow. His body looked like an alien map of jungle vines, twisting and turning across his paler hue. "I...uh..." He stood there, attempting to communicate with himself through the most refined dialect of stutters and mumbles. He swallowed, as hard as it was in his desert of a throat, and tried to speak once more. "I'm starting to get the sneaking suspicion this isn't the common co-...c...colll-" He couldn't even finish his sarcastic quip as he felt an instant tightening in his chest. Perhaps it was the mysterious workings of mercy silencing him from saying something so stupid. It felt like he'd been wrapped around the most personal of bear hugs. So intimate in fact, the bear had clawed itself deep within his person and squeezed itself within his squishy innards, tangled amongst his intestines, latching on his lungs. Excuse me, Mr. Bear, it's awfully considerate of you to feel that way, but I'm afraid my chest cavity is too cramped to consolidate a creature of your size. Perhaps a Holiday Inn will suffice? Or perhaps he should be a little more concerned with what's going on in reality, as he'd collapsed to the floor in a heap of gasps and wheezes. A fish flopping helplessly outside of its tank. Perhaps his brain had just become delirious from the amount of blood lost from his greatly underestimated nick of the knife. Or maybe even further, his outlook on the world had gone into overdrive from the amount of shapes and colors that'd been flashed into his face for the past few hours, and now perceived everything like his long library of games. How should he know? He wasn't a Nemo, Neuro or Neo. His vision was becoming blurry as his internals imploded from the inside...inside. His lungs continuing to show a mean masochistic streak as they further denied any airflow. It wasn't before long that he eventually gave in and accepted defeat. To part ways from his pitiful life. This pointless fight for his body, even though there wasn't anything too stellar waiting for it if he managed to save it. He couldn't even die with dignity, having lost to a frozen apple of all foes. No herculean hellish minotaur, no galaxy wide intergalactic threat, just a harmless piece of fruit. Something that would haunt him to his core for the rest of his ghastly days. Wait a minute...he got it! In the middle of a crazed convulsion, the sunlight fell onto him from the window for a moment of enlightenment. The problem wasn't something effecting his body, it was the body itself! His own flesh was the enemy he was fighting, his own skin of silicone suffocating him dry! Yes, he needed to be rid of it, to cast it off, to banish this terrible traitor of low testosterone to its lowly demise! To change! With that revelation, something clicked within his brain. And he was able to finally drink in a single breath. A tiny amount, barely anything, but it was his first taste in a long while. He tried it again, this time he was able to capture a little more, accompanied by another weird glow, a teal-ish color illuminating from his most vital organs. As he continued to fill his lungs, his body was reacting in sync. Skin cells slowly bubbling, flesh beginning to flake as his human frame literally began to fade away in a strange green smoke. Whatever, at this point he didn't give a shit, he needed to breathe! To live! Extremely quick cycles now, as the eerie smoke continued to cover his body completely. And you know what they say; wherever there is smoke, there is fire. To which this was no exception, as whatever this light was in his chest acted as a catalyst. The smallest of sparks that set his entire body ablaze in a giant green flame. Naturally, he reacted to sudden combustion the way any normal person would: an unfocused flailing fit of confused screaming. Y'know, as you do. He watched, or at least tired to, in terror as his body burned to a crisp, turning his limbs into nothing more than spindly stumps of overcooked charcoal, cracking around the edges with decayed holes. His spine squeezed and twisted, as his shoulder blades ripped through his back, fluttering in fear with a frantic buzzing filling his ears. The bones of his sternum started to meld together into a hard material, their marrow a delicious morsel to the ever feasting flame. It licked its sinister lips as it crawled up his body, deciding now it was time to go for the kill shot: His head. The flames bit into his face with ferocious appetite, causing him to scream even louder. This pleased the flame greatly, as it took this newfound opportunity to jump straight down his throat. He coiled inward, neck cranking and turning as he tried to stop the choking. It didn't like that in slightest. Retaliating, the fire went to burning the inside of his body, shooting his senses full of a powerful, commanding force. So strong it jolted him off the floor a decent height and crashing down with a hard landing, causing him to let out an angered yelp. Anger...yes, it liked that. It latched onto it. Sending it down even further into his neck. Heat exploding around his vocal chords, submerging them in an inferno of seething, blinding, arrogant hatred swimming all throughout his esophagus. When he finally managed to spit it out, it continued to swirl around his head, taking his hair into a curly tornado. Eventually pinpointing on his forehead, gathering nerves and hard matter as it sucked his skull outward in a jagged, pulling manner. Finally reaching an endpoint, the last pieces of flame flew in the air, sparkling out into nothingness. Stillness. Silence. The kitchen's puny walls caged him as he stared up at the ceiling, eyes slowly scanning the same surroundings he'd collapsed in just a few minutes beforehand. It was also at this time, he remembered that he was still very much alive. The intense pounding in his chest confirming so, as well as the one in his head. And with the rejection of death, came the revival of his reality, with a flood of emotions following in its wake. One standing tall above the others. Complete and utter confusion. He immediately sprang up with a large gasp, coughing and spitting as he tried to assess the situation from a calm, rational standpoint... WHAT IN THE FARM FRESH FUCK WAS THAT? ...Well, A for effort. He got his charred stumps underneath him as he tried to sit up, but failed on account of his limbs feeling like they'd been broken and reassembled in all the wrong places. Seriously, you had to be trying real hard to fail with how fucked up they felt. Instead, he exerted enough force to scoot himself over to the counter. "Ooooh...what happened to my body?" His eyes went wide. "What happened to my voice?" It certainly wasn't a voice that would work well with he, perhaps better associated with she. With this manipulatively seductive rasp, and undertones of a sinister, spiteful streak. The kind of voice you would hear out of a Saturday morning cartoon villain. The kind of voice that would threaten to destroy a protagonist-just it had many times over-with their newest, most diabolical inator ray with a comedically specific prefix, then going on to gloat about how they would take over a specific amount of land, motive changing like they changed pants. It was ridiculous. It was repulsive. And he absolutely rejected it. "What is this, some kind of sick joke?" He hissed. Literally, making him cocoon in shock. He parted the dark teal film sprouting from the top of his head and looked down at...his body? No, this isn't right! Last time he checked he wasn't some- "-Grotesque mishmash between the ass end of a horse, and a squashed insect shot full of holes! Fucking hell, how am I supposed to use these...what the fuck even are these? Hooves? They sure as shit don't look like them. I can’t even type on my keyboard with these useless things, how am I gonna get my assignments done when I’m a bug horse?" He paused for a moment, blinking his bulging eyes. "I'm a bug horse!" He wrapped his stumps around his head, feeling the beginnings of hyperventilation make their way up his throat. He tried jumping to his feet, only to once again be acquainted with the ground with a hard crash, ringing out through the hollow walls. Which was responded by an even harder knock on the other side. "Hey! Uh...Chris, or whatever, what's going on over there? You’re screaming your head off!” He quickly turned his head, responding on instinct. "Oh...uh, yea-yeah, everything's alright over here. I just slipped and fell, sorry!" He shoved the stumps in his mouth. The wall was silent. Very silent, as he laid there holding his breath. "...Fine, but could you keep it down, please? My classes aren't till this afternoon, so let me get a few more hours in...” Then the shuffling of sheets as his not so friendly neighbor went back to their slumber. Not him though. He was now wide awake, completely cleared of drowsiness after hearing what'd just come out of his mouth. That was my voice, it came back! Well...now it's gone again, but it was there! How the hell did he do that? He'd have to solve that mystery later. For now, he had to focus on the bigger issue at hand here. He needed to find out what, how, or possibly even who was behind all of this. More flickering of sunlight flashed in his face as he turned to the window. Should probably shut the blinds before anyone spots me like this. He clambered his front stumps onto the countertop, groaning as he soon realized he'd need to use his teeth to pull the cord. Gross. He placed it in the center of his mouth, realizing said teeth...and his tongue were much longer than before. And definitely sharper. But before he pulled them shut, he gave one final gaze down at the campus grounds below. Plenty of other students were already up and about, starting their very normal days. A group of friends chatting as they waited at the bus stop. Couples sitting together at the outdoor tables, coffees and computers out and ready. Commuters driving in circles in sheer desperation to find the closest parking spaces they could. All in all, the physical embodiment of white noise to the naked eye. Except for one. One guy walking by himself, slumped posture as he slid past all the other groups and made his way down the sidewalk, buried deep in his phone. It was obvious that this was his first outing in a while, as his pale skin made him a ghost among others, a white sheet draped over a skinny skeleton. Which itself was hidden away behind a pair of sports shorts and a t-shirt with the school's logo. His hair had a terminal case of bedhead, with black waves sticking out all over the place. But he didn't seem to care, as he was about to walk past the front of the building. Letting him get a clear look at his face. Holy shit, that's me! Author's Note Hear it uptown... Hear it downtown... Hear it all around, it's a new story! Why yes indeed, as I’ve told those who’ve been following since my last-and also first-outing into this whole new world of writing. Which is good for me, as pulling myself away from one project and onto another I’ve found to be extremely helpful in allowing ideas to form much easier. If only the same could be said about my writing process. For me, I can't write straight onto a computer, everything I ever write must go on paper first before typing. Yes, everything. Let me know what you think, I’m always open to hearing it. Edit: Upon examination with fresher, well rested eyes unfortunately I must say that the second half of this chapter is well...shit to put it lightly. Or at the very least not up to my personal standards. As such, there will be a revision of this segment (it’s coming soon, hopefully)
11. A Bigger Paper BagView OnlineDouble Double11. A Bigger Paper BagThe thick heels of the boots pounded against the white tiles as he ran through the store’s intersections and walkways. Everything else had muddied into a blur. He could be running through the dorms, the woods, the motel-wherever, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He only registered this long winding trail of tiles and the hopeful exit at the end that'll bring him back to reality. He cut right. He passed a few customers. None of them turned. Oblivious. He didn’t stop. Somewhere footsteps quickened to match his pace. He still didn’t stop. The damned boots adopted the same laissez-faire mindset that everyone else was serving him to break in faster. Not that he was able to do anything about it if he wanted to. And there was an awful lot he wanted to do; he wanted to shout, to call out to anyone in earshot to aid him against this pursuer rushing through the aisles. Chris didn’t panic, or at least he attempted not to, but the overwhelming feeling was definitely rising. C’mon now, anyone, can’t you see this? You got a real problem unfolding before you, and you have the nerve to sit there and remain ignorant? A single hand would suffice. A heavy pressure swept up against his front leg, right in the middle of the shinbone. The forward momentum launched him through the air in sudden weightlessness. He held there a few seconds, only for his face to reconnect on the smooth floor like a locked wheel. The friction burned on his cheek, searing the skin with a horrific squeak. A few seconds more passed until he got his hands underneath him and stopped the skid. He brought two fingers up to his face and dabbed the wound. Skin was missing, and the pain was sharp. He winced and looked back at the fresh skid marks on the floor. Next to it in parallel was a trail of tiny droplets leading back from where he’d felt a sting in his shoulder. It appeared they managed to get a hit on him during their thrashing, as a hole in the shirt was soaked damp with blood, now covering most of the sleeve. Dripping beads trickled down his chest and onto his stomach. “Damn.” He muttered between heavy breaths, “Lucky shot.” “Go ahead, keep running. It won’t save you.” He swiveled around. Not a single person moved, not from what he could see. No sign of her anywhere. “Eventually, a mistake will be made, one singular momentary lapse of reason.” Another voice, one of a man he didn’t recognize, but he assumed the pool could be whittled down to those trapped within these walls, if they were still around to confirm such suspicions. He scrambled to his feet and ducked into a nearby aisle in a low crouch. Assorted sneakers blocked his vision on both sides as the colorful boxes stacked high. “One little slip, one tiny trip…” A young child sang with a giggle dancing along the edge of the back of the store. This one made him feel particularly ill. Chris continued moving down the aisle, making sure each movement was quiet as possible. Like if he were back in the woods in the early hours, stalking through the trees with a bow. Yeah, a bow would be great right about now. Even better, get back out on the road and don’t stop till you reach the northern border, he thought. The boots might as well be lined with cinder blocks as each pronounced step followed close behind him. The light inside his chest kept glowing a bright pulsating green that flickered through thick pumping veins. He wondered how the campus was waking up to a defaced building, or how the motel staff reacted if they decided to peek inside the room. He thought about a lot of things. Why? Why must they be these kinds of aliens? Couldn’t they, just for once in a good long while, break the mold cast over a half-century ago and be humble travelers? Adventurous foreign species set out on extraterrestrial expeditions making a galactic pit stop like one would for a gas station. But no, course not, they hide among us in unsuspecting crowds plotting extinction, enslavement, or a combination of the two. What luck for us. Thought the goal was to break stereotypes, not solidify them. He was startled by a series of muffled thumps, immediately followed by a heavier collapse. He rested on his knee and peered through the spaces of the stacked boxes on the shelf. A woman’s legs were sticking out on the floor next to an upturned shoebox. Her body was shrouded in a faint pink mist. He dropped on his stomach and crawled forward on his hands and knees. His shoulder was throbbing hard. It wasn’t long until he heard another heavy thump hit the floor. Then another. And another. “Eventually,” Her true voice (if that) continued, “I will find you Chris~s.” Someone will. Those last words echoed within him like a wispy winter chill freezing him on the spot, much to the dismay of his twitching legs to keep going. But these touched deep, considering that she used his voice to declare such terminal punctuation. Taking up a tone he never believed he could. There was no fullness in it, no character, no humanity. Just an emotionless state of intent. The drips were now soaking into the waistband of his underwear. Keep moving. Don’t you just lay here, get up and keep moving. It was dead quiet. Even worse. Not even the idle humming from the speakers on the ceiling. He sat there breathing, thinking. A streak of sunlight came through the glass somewhere, casting warmth upon his back before fading again. This must be how bugs felt, witnessing giant beasts stomping around carrying weapons, wholly unaware of the destruction they brought just by their presence alone. He rose slowly, continuing to listen. He balanced on one foot and removed a boot, then the other, and placed them together on the floor. Creases and scuffs began to appear on the outer material, especially around the toecaps. The shine even dulled a hue. He felt a little guilty. Somewhere in the far opposite corner, he heard the distinct gallop of hooves moving at unnatural speed. It sounded like two horses overlapping each other. He stayed in his position and placed a hand on the floor to feel any vibrations. There was a taste of blood in his mouth. The hooves shifted to another part of the store, maintaining a normal steady gallop. They kept going for a while, then slowed down to a cantering gait. Trot. Nothing. She stood still for another few seconds of ambiance, then a strange distortion filled the air and normal footsteps carried out. It could be described as an electric sound, but that wouldn’t come close to audibly visualizing it. It was simply inorganic, inhuman. He pulled at the bloody shirt, tearing it off in ragged strips, wincing as the fabric peeled from where it’d dried. New splotches mixed together with those from last night, leaving a bizarre tie-dye pattern that reeked like death. The air conditioning was cold on his skin, sending goosebumps down his back. Traces of veins were prominent underneath in a green haze. He balled up all the fabric and tossed it to the side and made his way out of the aisle towards another. Everything was cold. The thick silence was interrupted by the offbeat slams of bodies hitting the ground. They were heavy slaps. No one screamed, no one spoke, there wasn’t even a gasp of shock. Only slaps. He came across a body sprawled out on its back and stopped. He balanced on his toes and examined them, only moving his eyes. A young man yet older than him, probably somewhere in his 20s, but the pale shriveled complexion made the exact age ambiguous. He just laid there, eyes upward and glassy, his mouth hung agape. Chris brought two fingers down to his neck cautiously. Still alive, he’s just unconscious, but there’s definitely something missing inside. Like he’s been drained. “Well, if you’re lucky, you might get up to see tomorrow. At least one of us will.” After a while, he found he had done a circle and had gone back into the men’s section, now recognizing the shirts and things hung on the racks. He cursed under his breath for not memorizing the layout, instead letting himself get wrapped up in annoyance and intrigue, which is what they were likely aiming for. And he, without fail, allowed himself to be lulled straight to the target. A rat in a maze, forced to carry out experiments for sadistic observers. He grabbed hold of a steel bar of a rack of jeans. This time, the halt in momentum was enough to drop him to his knees. His head bowed, streams of sweat rolling down his face. The skin on the bottom of his forearms was rubbed raw. The sides of his head were pounding. Everything sounded like mush. Goddamn you, you sonofabitch. Is that really all you can muster? You’ll let this bitch gut you groveling on your knees? What’s the point of running so long for that to be the outcome. Get your dumbass off the floor. Get. Up. Stubbornness. Going from the clock on the wall, it was nearly 24 hours since he ate anything, drinking especially. At this time of the year, if you didn't keep track of hydrating yourself, signs will appear to question how you’ve forgotten these basic necessities. Fatigue, general aches, inability to fully concentrate. They were all present at a time they absolutely shouldn’t have. Of course, the additional assaults amplified these affliction's rate of appearance, but they arrived, nonetheless. That’s alright, I can think of a quick way of handling it. And that’d be? Stand up and let her put one between your eyes. It’ll sure cure that headache. Yeah, right. He looked at the clock on the wall again. 11:37 What? No, relax, it’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m coming home because I feel like it. Definitely not because a dorm room that definitely wasn’t mine, definitely not exploding that I definitely wasn’t a part of. Definitely. Matter of fact, I feel so good, I’ll stop and get myself a new set of clothes while I’m at it. How about I fancy myself a pair of fucking boots well out of decency and price range as well? It’d taken another minute to calm himself, enough to clear his mind and assess his current situation. Soon, the waning courage he needed began pumping again, and his heart rate set at a steady yet alert pace. He lifted himself with a muffled grunt and stood at full height, which relieved his back but left him exposed, sticking above some of the shorter shelves. He waited. No bodies fell. Quiet. Something he’d now grown to dread when once upon a time, it was such a comforting nothingness. As a child, he spent hours in the dark outside, surrounding himself with the low chirping hum of the natural world. It had a habit of distracting when sat in a tree stand, wired in the brisk morning air. A test of one’s patience that was often rewarded substantially. Now the reward was before him, a flickering glimmer of hope. The man was in front of a tall rack of sunglasses, casually thumbing through the jutting frames despite the pair already on his face. The man seemed unaffected by the previous commotion, yet to budge from the testing mirror, but the sharpness in his features showed consciousness. “Hey man,” He wheezed and gave the man’s shirt a lazy pleading tug. “Hey, I need your help, like, right now. I got a serious problem. We got a serious problem.” The man surprised him with a genuine response. “Uh huh, I hear ya.” He refused to look away from the mirror as he spoke. “I got a serious problem of my own here. I think my head’s too big to fit any of these properly.” A hint of a slur in his voice, and a croaking rasp caught in his throat. He honed in on two specific frames near the middle of the rack and held them in each hand. Chris watched as the man glanced between his desired wares, and grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around. His thumbs dug into the prominent collarbones. “No, not that.” He said through gritted teeth. “One of the girls working here is crazy. She’s trying to kill me. You gotta help, call the police. I don’t care anymore, just help me, please.” He kicked himself for not remaining calm, as his ramblings were sure to solidify any concerns (rightfully) that he had about him. A half-naked man, sweaty, bloody, nervous? Chris would’ve done his best to avoid all contact entirely. The man did nothing of the sort, instead continuing to stare at him through the dark opaque sunglasses. The tips of his front teeth were visible in his open mouth. “Mmm, yeah…that’s rough, buddy.” He attempted to nod, but his neck kept rigid causing an odd wobble. “But hey, what do you think of these?” he flipped the frames around and held them parallel on both sides of his face. “Red or blue? I like the look of the red ones, but the blues are a little easier on the wallet, y’know what I’m saying?” Chris snorted furiously, intense heat on his face from more sweltering frustrations. Without thinking, he reached forward and slapped the models from his hands and pinched those on his nose, crushing them in the process. He soon stopped upon seeing what was waiting behind the black mirrors. The man’s eyes were wide, almost popping out of their sockets like the eyelids were yanked apart on wires. Brow affixed high on his forehead, almost up to his hairline, and the pupils were dilated to a pinpoint. “C’mon, what do you think?” The man tilted his head to the side, catching the reflection from the light strip above. Similar to the strange colors he found in the alien, it cast a green filter to shimmer over his eyes. Like the glasses were too far up his nose and a layer of the lens had peeled off and stuck upon removal. Yet the man didn’t seem to notice, nor really anything else for that matter. Just like the other customers. Suddenly, he stopped, stiff as a statue. His face turned to plaster, stuck in its unfocused dumbness. Outstretched arms grasping at nothing twitched from sporadic nerves. His skin, once glazed with an even tan, rapidly began to drain in definition, becoming pale and gaunt in seconds. A mist seeped out from every orifice in his face, even his ears and the tears running down his cheeks. A whispering terror danced in the air, the same tune he heard in Chrissy’s panicked breakdown. The man spoke again, but his voice didn’t follow. But another, warped and feminine. “Now that I think about it, yes…” A hand reached from behind and clamped down on the man’s scalp. “I think I’ve found exactly what I’m looking for.” Jane’s face appeared from behind the man, snickering with a devilish smile. The man’s body fell limp in her grasp, and she tossed him aside as if he were a ragdoll, who crashed into a shelf and landed in a twisted mess. She lurked towards him in a slow animalistic hunch, like a cartoon cat that finally cornered the clever household rodent that’s always one step ahead. He took a few steps back slowly, next to an opening between the aisles. Well buddy, what’s your plan to get out of this one? Cause I sure as hell don’t see an ACME section in this place. “I’ve finally found it, here, in this place. And believe me, I had to do quite a lot of scrounging to get it…” She gave a long hissing laugh, then sucked air in a quick gasp. “Scrounging, grueling…from the campus, down the highway, that dis~sgusting inn, and all the way here. Having to mi~ingle amongst these bleating things, I thought I’d go mad! But I can see that it was well worth the effort, for you appear right at my hooves.” “Well,” He said, “Here I am, congratulations. You want a medal or something?” “Oh no-no-no, nothing like that. I’m just looking for some answers, Chris. Answers to some rather simple questions on the whereabouts of one individual in particular. Certainly, you can understand such a concept and give me an answer easily, seeing as you’ve been spending some time in the Queen’s presence.” Their Queen? Wait, did she mean…Chrissy? That scrawny, wallowing sack of misery is what they determined leader material? From what he could tell, whatever this thing was had a better grasp of the values necessary to put one in control, regardless of rank or whatever. Unless they were planning a long con, recent events likely regressed any schemes back to square one. Or, at the very least, put them on hiatus. Yeah, I know your Queen. She attacked me, had a mental breakdown, tried to kill me again, and was gone come morning. She did leave me this weird log, though, you want it? Jane paused mid-step in her intimidating strut, having caught on to his changing expression with a cocked brow. “You know where she is, yes~s?” “I don’t know.” Her smile widened, finally reaching her cheeks. “You know where she is.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her head lightly. “Well, I know you aren’t one of us~s, considering how poor you are trying to convince me of that. Unfortunately for you, that makes the real answer all the more…irres~sistible.” She tapped her chest lightly. His entire abdomen was splattered in a red mess, trailing streaks and dotted openings, ripe for the butcher’s rack. The original wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding and unnaturally closed up fast, leaving his arm a nasty discolored bruise. The plate had settled in more with his skin, no longer bulging out a couple inches more than his other pec to be indistinguishable at a glance. Where the few streaks of sunlight passed, the same pink mist from the others wafted from the dried lines. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling the rising heat now with her close to him. He let out a heavy sigh. “Figures you’d know something about this.” His eyes darted around again, finally latching onto something worthwhile. He spotted another man, because of course there was, off in the distance with his back turned to them. His weird rigid posture suggested unconsciousness like everyone else and dolled up as a Western-style mannequin. Hats, boots, and all; a modern man’s rendition of what constituted the makings of a lone ranger, all for the right price and lack of self-worth. None of this was too important to Chris, as he could excuse a numb palate, for the man wore a more practical statement. Nestled along the glossy white outline of shined black leather sitting small and low on the man’s right hip. Sharper lines ran jaggedly on the stamped grooves of the blackened steel. About the only thing to the man that possessed any aggressive nature, and judging from his current state, he deduced that it was yet to be proven in the field. Mid-size, full-size – didn’t matter, the grip would fit comfortably in the curve of his hand. A glow flickered off her eyes in a bright flash pulling her focus once more, like a moth to a flame. “Indeed, I do. I know very much about this~s.” her tongue lulled out of her mouth, dripping nasty green bile she slurped feverishly. “Why don’t you let me take a closer look?” She snarled and lunged towards him. “I think you’ve gotten close enough.” He grabbed a heavy rack to his left and threw it on her. It smashed down in a mix of crashing metal and insect screeching. Shirts scattered across the ground in clumps as their loose hangers bounced on the tiles with a high clang. He jumped back and ran out from the racks into the hallway. The mound had just settled before the middle shifted and ruptured outward with a birthing writhing thing. What emerged from the pile had a familiar shape of the ‘Queen’ but was far smaller, even to the girl they were fronting as. The physical structure of a small pony, coated in the shiny black shell of an insect. It didn’t have slimy hair atop its head, nor any pupils in its eyes, but it had the same additional appendages and held the same amount of anger, perhaps even more. Aside from the pony-like silhouette, there wasn’t anything else to be interpreted as a species, even less from the larger bitching bug. Chris came up on the man fast, almost too fast. In the span of second, his hand swooped down upon the pistol, clamped around the textured rubber, and spun on a heel backward to a shooting position. The force of his movements was so great, it ripped the holster from the leather belt, its loose stitches unwound and flew from the pistol and thumped on a wall. The man was shoved off balance in a half twirl and fell over another rack throwing more clothing on the floor. The hat he wore fluttered in the air down to rest on his twisted back. Her furious charge was brought to a screeching halt. Stubby gnarled hooves skittered on the tiles to a desperate stop. She steadied and stilled herself remaining in a low hunch to pounce again, but she didn’t dare take a step forward. Chris used this hesitation to straighten and readjust his grip on the weapon, each action labored by haggard breaths. He couldn’t get a read on her expression from her animalistic frown. Was she studying him? Confusion? Or was it simply an apathetic dullness witnessing this small display of rebellion? He spoke in a tired drawl. “There, now that you’ve found your manners, why don’t you do me a favor and point me towards the exit? Customer service around here leaves a lot to be desired.” She didn’t respond immediately, only continuing to stare at him. A clear film ran over her eyes and retracted, similar to an alligator, yet they kept their thick opaque color. Ragged ears twitched and swiveled in the silence once more. The sun was getting higher, hotter, gazing upon the two with intense uninterrupted attention. No cloud passed between the parties, and no creature stirred in the shortening shadows. Only prior could the events be argued as little more than delusional suspicions, but now there was true confirmation of confrontation between man and alien. And yet, the world stood quiet with their backs turned or slumped on the ground. Those with an active role in this history remained focused on one another weapons at the ready. Actions like these were nothing new to this land, or the whole world, merely dormant between instances of hostile discovery. Such methods could be traced to long ago, back to the men who’re now reserved to printed text in books, shoved away in schools, and forgotten generations ago. Her head tilted and an ear swiveled again. “Kinetic energy? You believe that will prove any worth to you?” “I guess. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have stopped.” Her brow furrowed, the muzzle bent into that same crooked smile. She took a small step forward. He took one back. A slight shudder in the pistol. Her body heaved and sprinted towards him in full gallop, leaving cracked hoofprints deep in the tiles as she passed. He leveled the pistol and fired three rounds in rapid succession. It kicked with the familiar jerk in his arm, and the pops of 9mm rounds echoed off the walls. His ears rang slightly, but he kept focused, never breaking sight of his target. The bullets met the alien immediately, two rounds at her neck and one at her head. However, they never made contact, something he probably should’ve seen coming. A hazy glow had surrounded the front of her body stemming from the curved horn on her forehead. Each round that'd passed through the barrier ricocheted off in random directions. Glass shattered on his right, wood splintering somewhere. He stepped back again and fired two more. Same result, more glass breaking. He began to think about his next move as she closed the distance. He stopped and glanced up at the ceiling, then back to her. He repeated this once more and made his decision. She was about 15 feet away when he pointed the pistol upwards and fired four rounds. They traveled straight as a razor, hitting the desired target with great success. There was a heavy metallic groan until he heard a loud snap, soon followed by the drone of rushing glass. She looked up, her eyes widening just before the large chandelier came crashing down on her. It exploded with deafening sound, as cascading waves of shattered glass flooded the floor. Chunks of many sizes reflected the sunlight on all inside, submerging the store in flashing, sparkling lights. Dots and beams danced and flickered on the walls and floors high and low, big and small. A sea of eyes blinking, observing everything around them…observing him. He felt exposed. He turned and ran. Eventually, he found the doors to the outside untouched and waiting. He could even see the corner of his car’s rear bumper at the edge of the parking lot. It should easily hop over the lip of the concrete sidewalk and peel out back on the highway. It was all there, shimmering in its splotchy Clorox sheen. The chime of the digital bell bellowing grandiose, echoing like Gabriel’s trumpets. All in reach. He didn’t even see her pop into existence, only catching the tail end of her calculated surprise in a blink. His legs betrayed him as they stayed the course, thrusting him towards her cocked and loaded hindquarters. It’s not like she needed to try, but she didn’t seem the kind to give partial effort. Hooves released, rocketing forward and plunging deep in his chest. His skeleton gave in without resistance, just an illusion of a sound structure, as bone shattered to pieces. The skin ruptured around her hooves, making the same hollow snaps heard when he skewered her on the hook. He didn’t flail, sailing limply and letting the force of the impact lay him out on the tiles. The pistol spun out of his hands, perhaps to wherever the bullets previously flew. “I think you’re beginning to understand.” Her figure stood over him in shadow, only coloring the teal glint of her eyes. “When one is marked for consumption, their life is already forfeit. Especially if they are marked by the Queen herself. That’s all there is for them. Nothing more.” She licked her lips eagerly but quickly composed. “But, there are more aggressive means of extracting information besides a verbal confession. All you’ve done here is cause yourself much unnecessary pain. So, I suggest you stop. Now.” No response. She smiled, and the glow around her horn brightened. “I’ve never had the chance to cocoon a human before. Maybe this will prove to be an informative experience in more ways than one.” She tilted her head, and a clutching force dragged him back by the shoulders. He could barely breathe, let alone focus. Things shifted inside of him that probably shouldn’t move. He couldn’t get his legs under him to stop the pulling. Her face wasn’t contorted in anger, no teeth bared or spit drooling. Now, it was an empty gaze. His back pressed against a rack’s cold metal. The lopsided position made him tilt over from dead weight. There wasn't any energy left to give, nor the passion to wield in keeping up the chase. He focused on breathing as steadily as possible, save the faint gurgle sloshing down in his throat. Sounds crept towards him, the tapping of a fuzzy echo in his mind. Why was he here again? What was the purpose? Another store would’ve sufficed his needs, and most definitely half the price. Hooves stomped onto both of his legs. His eyes opened from the pain, now seeing them face-to-muzzle before him. “We’ve followed a series of distress signals from the Queen’s mana signature across this continent, in your world’s perception of time, for five months at least. Comparing coordinates, studying the patterns and strength of each. Finally, we narrowed it down to one particular region; the maps label it as San Antonio, located in the state of Texas. More specifically, a center of higher education in preparation for the nation state’s larger workforce.” Is that what they’re calling it these days? The lingering thought stuck inside while his head dipped lazily. Their muzzle remained firm for a while, then they continued to speak. “Upon a personal venture to investigate, I discovered that the Queen was indeed present, disguised amongst the human students. I even managed to achieve contact through the Collective, like so…” A green light flickered in her throat, “Yet she remained ignorant of my gesture, nor my presence entirely.” Their muzzle scrunched with a dismayed hiss. “It’s common for one to have no physical reaction when in disguise, especially if they’re inquired by those of lower standing, but her complete lack of acknowledgment, dare I say obliviousness, rubbed me wrong.” They leaned towards him, putting more pressure on his legs. They stared into his eyes intensely, searching inside for some low tucked-away confession…these things better not be able to read souls. That would just be the icing to this shit sundae of a morning. After a few silent minutes of glaring, they leaned back, muttering a hmph. “I admit, I should have been more pronounced in my efforts of contacting her, but it was clear from the outset they would be met all the same. The Queen was far more interested in the human masses surrounding us, casting each passing being in a hostile glare. However, there was one individual that left her…wholly transfixed through the entire ordeal.” Upon this confession, he slumped further under her cold gaze, feeling himself get smaller, now a crawling insect exposed in the light. The groan did enough to express his state of being, and the alien’s lips curved upward. “It appears we’ve hit a stroke of familiarity.” “Yeah…” Chris said as he swallowed a thick lump. “…Take it you was there in the dining hall yesterday?” “That I was, Chris, that I was. Watching her, watching you, watching her.” “That ain’t a crime, last I checked.” “No, it is not. Explosions, on the other hand, are an entirely different affair.” “Bet it is.” He slurred, with just the hinted spice of sarcasm dashed in for good measure while drifting off. The two of them went quiet again, the alien remaining planted on their newfound pedestal, listening to him breathe. His eyes dimmed, watching as the squared patterns of the tiles faded into a singular dull white. They reared high in the air as their front hooves took on a green glow and crushed with the focused strength of a hydraulic press. Chris screamed in pain, barely overshadowing an audible crunch rippling below the flesh and fabric. They got straight in his face, so close their muzzle touched the tip of his nose. Ice cold. “The dorm building erupts in flames, and suddenly, you’re leaving for the highway, her signature in tow. Eventually, you come to a rundown inn just outside the limits of any population center. At two-thirty-six, fifty-three minutes after you passed the front desk, the Queen’s signature vanishes.” Every vindictive accusation shook her body with intense rage, further compounding the injury. “Come daybreak, you’re the only one remaining, and she’s completely gone, not a single trac~ce. So, I’m only asking you this once, what have you done with Queen Chrysalis, human?” To both their confusion, he let out an unfocused, almost accepting chuckle. “Well…I…uh, I’d hate to tell you this, but you’re Queen? It looked to me like she was having an identity crisis.” Before they could respond, his jaw kept moving. “We’d gotten to the room while the sun was still out. Ended up having to sneak her in through a window. She was too wound up to keep anything down pat for long. Needless to say, she was having a fit, ranting this, whining that. I don’t think she was fully aware of what was coming out, but sure as hell did. Spewing out thoughts like a damn hose.” He drew a long breath, twisting as sharp pain signaled capacity. “Eventually, she calms down, and I head outside, as you know, I guess….” He waved a limp dismissive hand. The alien’s brow lowered. “So, I’m out there, doing what I need to, when suddenly the room lights up. I return to a mess, the whole place torn apart like a bomb went off. Sounds familiar, huh? Heh, strange, considering she was still asleep.” That word flipped a switch in them. “Asleep? She was asleep?” They asked, leaning forward again. “Ack! Yes, think she was having a dream." "A dream?" "Ye-Yeah! Sounded more like a nightmare, though, kept worrying about someone following her-“ “WHO, HUMAN?” “She! She-She-She! She kept calling them she! Sweet Jesus, my fucking legs!” The alien froze, every part of their body seizing as the information crept through the ears and squirmed in the brain. A wriggling worm of worry, their attempt to resist proved futile, with hard features softening out. The pain under heavy hooves receded, and the grizzled snarl was wrangled into a murmuring whimper. Twisted into form, fury morphing to fear. “No…no, no, no, I can’t be too late. I can’t be! Not when we were so close, just when we were ready to start again. Everything we’ve lost, everything we’ve sacrificed, and you. You’ve laid her down under the enemy’s blade without a fight. How could you! Your cowardice makes me sick!” They grabbed him by the shoulders and hurled him up into the air. He bounced off a loose roof tile and came back down on a taller shelf before landing in a pile of glass shards. He realized they had a penchant for throwing their prey around like a ragdoll since he was three-for-three on this experience and a hundred on the pain. He also found they weren’t keen on being looked in the eye, especially when talking back. Strange for an alien creature to have such Earthly traits. His hands grasped forward to pull him onward, constantly sliding in the slick blood. The path before him stretched on forever, sounds muffled and distant. His legs were nonexistent. “A messenger of the government, operating using Equestrian intel. Yet, nothing about you shows their technical prowess, but I do sense something…magical within your person.” Their horn lit up again, sparking an intense tingle all over him. “What have they given you? Just how could you have won her over?” A dull singing all the way to burning, he collapsed face down as his chest was smothered. His ribs. His lungs. His heart. The sensation stopped. “Impossible…” Echoed in his mind while he was rolled over. Their eyes darted across him nervously, ears laying flat. The tingles went back into his heart, the crackling light as bright as a fire on pitch-black nights. Their horn fizzled out. “No, it couldn’t be. How could I have deceived myself the first time if it was?” They approached now in a cautious, fragile nature. They walked beside him and put their face against his chest, left ear firmly pointed outward. They finally closed their eyes, used their horn, and pressed it against the hard plate. He tensed, forcing him to close his own eyes. There, in the tiny capsule of the dark, a flickering vision in his mind appeared. A darkened spire, twisted and gnarled in a point stabbed the hazed yellow sky, ready to tear a giant gash. Spikes, bores, and hostile nature grew around the hulking structure. Stripped trees and dust, marked of nonstop sun and lack of proper environmental cycles. Like death ruptured out from the ground and grew, feasting on the blight and misery of everything around it. What the hell is that thing? He thought, mentally squinting, It looks like…some sort of Hive. A shocked screech broke his concentration, and the vision disappeared. When he came to, the alien was in a panic, frantically jumping around him, scanning over injuries, measuring longer cuts between their hooves among several surface area wounds. Their expression showed concern, but it had now been taken over by a laser focus. He continued to lay completely still, even if he could move his own weight. After their deep examination, they nodded to themselves and took a stance atop him, each side’s hooves enclosing him in a pincher. “Listen to me.” Any aggression was replaced by a stern tone. “Hey, look at me.” He did. “I’m going to do something your body has never experienced before. It won’t be as overwhelming due to your circumstance, but it could still have a negative reaction. You mustn’t move, you mustn’t yell, you mustn’t combat it. It will only be a few seconds, but you must endure. Do you understand?” His face was blank. “Do you understand?” They repeated. At this point, why not? Why wouldn’t he understand? Indeed he was bound to understand at least something by now. He lifted a weak hand, thumb jabbed high. They stared at it with a cocked brow, then rolled their eyes and refocused. “Good.” They positioned themselves in a ready stance surrounded by a pulsing aura. “Don’t scream.” They lowered their horn carefully like one would the barrel of an old rifle, immediately followed by a flash of powerful blinding light. A thin and moist substance was thrust into his mouth, like a dew, that rushed down his throat and dispersed. He couldn’t breathe, but he wasn’t suffocating either. When it reached the rest of him, he was given another heavy kick in the chest, a scorching blast of energy that set every sense ablaze. Like his soul was forcefully shoved back into its meaty capsule. His vision returned, and he sat upright in the pink fog, coughing violently. “Easy, don’t move too fast.” They said, “Your body still needs time to process that large of an intake. Let me help you.” He felt a hand grab his forearm and another caress his back as he was carefully brought to his feet. He felt like some heavy thing that had to be stood by a set of pulleys. No real control. The room was still spinning, still bent over, hacking up what was left of his lungs. Everything throbbed with constant shooting pain, leaving him wincing with each move. After a few more minutes of these miserable actions, he could compose himself enough to stand alone. Instead of the alien, Jane reappeared beside him, uniform and all, not a single hair out of place. As if she was merely helping just another customer get acquainted with their soon-to-be commodities. She sighed in relief, blowing an O-ring of pink before continuing to circle him. They mostly glanced at his upper features, eyes occasionally twitching back to his chest once or twice before moving elsewhere. It was his legs that drew most of their attention. For some reason, the length of the thigh-to-knee-to-calf ratio and how far they were spaced apart were most important. “You’re going to be sore for a long time, more so a normal changeling due to the extent of your injuries. But everything should be properly healed and fully functional.” They looked down at their hand, palm reddened and slick, and wiped it on a coat hanging on a nearby rack. “I-I think so?” He said in a shaky voice, opening and closing his fingers. “Don’t worry, you’re still conscious, even if your mind protests otherwise.” They returned their demeanor to the detached positivity she presented initially, but her muscles were defined in a heightened preparedness. “Which means we need to keep moving. We only have around an hour before the spell on the others wears off and the police are dispatched. I will grab whatever supplies you need before we depart.” The two stood there, staring at each other silently for a moment. “So, shirt and shoes, was it?” They stayed in the store for another half hour. Chris gazed out the rows of glass windows in front of the store and the sliding doors. Most of them were intact, some obscured by the large advertising posters taped onto them for passersby. Others had turned to spider webs, embedded in them black and red specs. The sun caught them occasionally and would fill the store with a cracked cascading light, covering parts of him in a warm glow. He turned back from his spot on the floor to the rest of the store. Quiet, not even a breath, save for the abrupt shuffling of products on unstable shelving. The customers, unscathed from the crossfire, hadn’t moved, undeterred in their focus to decide what cheap piece of clothing really defined them as individuals. Willing to stand the fire and blood for their consumer convictions. Some reached out with a limp hand for where the products would be located, blissfully unaware they were laying wrinkled around their feet. He envisioned himself in the same position and wondered if he looked just as mindless to any other small creatures buzzing around these stores. Staring forward, reaching for things they'll forget in weeks time, then putting it back in place for another item of equal expiration. Those unfortunate to find themselves on the floor, half way or completely on their back, limbs flailed about their person, weren’t moving, but the shallow rise and fall of breathing was seen. Good, still alive. Though they were definitely gonna be in for a rude awakening when they came too. That, and a hefty medical bill. He put a hand to his own chest and exhaled, letting the warm tingles run through his body. The black denim hid most of the veins, as did the light wash off the jeans. The boots, well, they were still the fancier commodity. In the sun, it shone a wine red surrounded by fat white lights on the polished scales. Even with the shine, it’s all it could do to keep up the presentation. The texture was gnarled and bumpy, like a monster breaking the surface to come to gnaw at his toes. By now, “Jane” had given her complexion a touch up-to put it in normal terms-and regained that strange allure, though it’d lost most of its glamor after he stuck it on a hook. She'd swapped her uniform for another set of clothing, this time a shirt and shorts of an athletic fashion, all baring the colors and logos of his school. She kept her stride in close with each other, like she measured the steps individually to extend and retract the same distance apart. If you were to look at her now, you would’ve never guessed she had tore him apart to the brink of death. “There, this should last for the time being. You really did a number on me with that hook, you know that? I had my shell cracked in ways I hadn’t accounted for previously. I thank you for this…eye-opening experience, and I’ll adjust my defensive strategies here on out. However, I still have a few wounds that need to close fully.” She walked up to him, carrying a stack of both of their clothes. “Ready to leave when you are.” He continued to look at the substantial black splotches sprayed over a display of jeans. “Would you like one?” She asked. “No,” He responded, running a finger down a black trail. It was lukewarm and runny upon contact. He brought it to his face and rubbed it between his fingers slowly. “I’m just trying to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.” “About the blood?” “About the blood.” He’d done his best to clean up some of the mess, but he couldn’t manage this. The liquid was strewn throughout the floors, walls, and people caught in the splash zone. She tilted her head with a confused brow, then seemed to remember something and said “There’s no need to worry about that. Changeling blood doesn’t fare well when exposed to this world’s elements for a long period. Stewing in this climate, it’ll dry up and dissolve without a trace. In ten minutes, it will be like we were never here.” A broken shelf shifted behind them. “From a forensic standpoint.” “And what about them?” Chris thrust his arms towards the people sprawled out across the floor. “What’s gonna happen to them? Is someone gonna find them bloated after a couple minutes? From a forensic standpoint?” “They’re not dead.” “Not dead?” “No, of course they’re not dead. Why would I kill them? If I did that, it would only prove counterproductive in the long run.” “Then what did you do?“ “I drained their love.” An eye twitched. “What?” “I. Drained. Their. Love.” “You did…you did….” His eyes widened in shock, and he darted off to the closer bodies on the ground. He examined them, looking for anything misshapen or boney. Any tears or splotches of red soaking into the fabrics. He even pulled up the shirts on some men and ran his hand over their skin, tracing his fingers over the vital organs. Jane’s head went back and forth as she studied him. “May I ask what you’re doing?” “Don’t fuck with me on this.” He snapped, pointing back at her. “Do not fuck with me on this. What’ve you done to these people? Have you eaten their hearts?” “No?” “Then what did you do?” “I already told you, I drained their love-“ “What does that mean?” He shouted, getting up in her face. A fierce green glow flickered in his irises. “It means exactly as it entails.” “No, it doesn’t! That’s just a fucking metaphor. You can’t actually drain someone of love or any emotion for that matter.” His eyes burned right through her as if his anger could possibly melt away this waxy human figure before him and unmask that skittering monster lying just behind her confusion. His neck pulsed with a nasty bulge. “So again, I ask you, what does that mean?” Her brow dropped to a deadpan glare. She spoke with a dull regard, like an A.I. reading off a Wikipedia article. “I inserted microscopic tendrils through their skin and facial orifices to wrap around the brain and pierce their hypothalamus. Then I harvested the serotonin and dopamine chemicals, along with the moisture in the air and a conversion spell, to turn it into a fine consumable mist.” She rolled out her tongue, extending it until it hung long over her chin in sharp forks. A series of small dangling lines only visible by reflecting the store's lights, thin and taut as piano wire. The organ twitched, and the wires quickly retracted down her throat. He brought his fingers up to his nose, feeling sudden burning irritations fade away. Then they disappeared from his ears. His mouth. Underneath his fingernails. Eyes. “I take it back. Draining love was…descriptive enough.” She returned to her previous calm smile and nodded to him. She readjusted her grip on the clothing and stepped past him. “If you have anything else in mind, I suggest you grab it now.” Chris sighed, readjusted his shirt, and started to follow her out of the store. “No, I don’t need anything else….” The sliding doors opened for him with a delightful chime, wishing him luck after such a satisfying shopping experience. He was about to step through until a thought stopped him. “Wait, we can’t just walk out of here with that.” “Why?” She asked over her shoulder. “Well, we have to pay for that first.” “Pay?” She turned to him, standing in the middle of the parking lot. “Why would you pay for this?” His face went slightly red from hearing his own comment. Did he think applying some form of common sense to this situation wouldn’t sound stupid? “It’s not what I want to do, but you can’t just walk out of here with a bunch of clothes. I'm sure they'll run inventory when the dust clears. Just because something’s broken, that doesn’t mean it ain’t accounted for.” “No, I mean, why would you pay for it?” She turned her back to him and concentrated on the other customers, clearly counting them out from the darting quickness of her eyes. Settling on a number, her shoulders shifted, and she balanced the stack along one of her arms, using her chin as a makeshift clamp, freeing her other to cast a flourishing hand with extended glowing fingertips. All five went off like party poppers, and she closed her eyes with a significant mental effort. A tumbling wisp of air wiggled and circled its way throughout the store, sparkles twinkling with a sound on the edge of hearing. As it passed by the people, objects from their clothing or accessories would wrench free and glide softly. Their faces twitched a second, the body subconsciously reacting to the sound. It did the lap around and back again, letting him see what was carried. Dollars, change, and cards of various payments hovered by in a single file line heading for the register on the front counter. In seconds, cards were swiped, buttons dialed, dollars allocated, and change jangled in the tip jar. All while a long stream of receipt paper spat up like a geyser and unraveled on the floor. Finally, this massive sheet was lifted and sectioned, wrapping themselves around the plastic payments or flapping bare. They were shot back across the store, nestling themselves with each respective owner. Once finished, the wisp contracted and spun into a fast dissipating spiral, leaving not a trace. Jane sighed to themselves, satisfied, then turned back to Chris. “There, all covered. I believe your kind refers to that as Southern Hospitality?” He held up his hands in a nonchalant act as he followed her out. "He~ell, that's good enough for me. You can call it whatever you like." He said, more impressed than anything else. She placed everything she carried in the backseat and closed the door, spinning a ball cap on her finger as she moved to the passenger side. "Well, this has certainly been an interesting revelation, but it's something we can work with. We still have plenty of time to get you situated." "Hang on, slow the roll a minute," He stepped in front of her, holding up a finger of self-importance, "Before you're doing anything, we're gonna go where I want to go first and foremost. Hell it's my car, I'm driving, so you're just gonna have to deal with it. Got it?" She smiled and nodded. "Of course, whatever you require to keep in good health will be done at once. As the Queen wishes." She looked down at the waist of his jeans and pursed her lips in thought. "Though, I believe that's a customer's personal item, not a product of the store." He paused and pulled the pistol, holding it sideways in his hand. “Yeah…” He examined the weapon, then glanced back at the store. "This one's on the house." He finished and placed it back. "I'm not sure what I can do about it at the moment." "I can think of a few things," He went to the numbers on the slide. "How sharp's that horn of yours?" "Excuse me?" He smirked to himself. "Nevermind. We'll figure that out later." He got the keys from his pocket and walked to the car. They both stepped inside and he started it, quickly whipping the car in a J-turn out of the parking lot. They made their way through the rest of the small town and went speeding onto the highway. Upon the completion of the hour, the town was filled with horrified screams and pained moans both young and old. Not long after, the sounds of sirens surrounded them, as they did all across the state. Author's Note Uh...hi. I'd like to say I have a proper reason as to why I've been gone so long, but I don't. At least not for this long. Simply put: I gave up. I had too much going on in life physically and mentally for me to put time into writing, or anything creative for that matter, so I just stopped altogether (don’t do that, it’ll just make everything worse.) It was to the point I thought of canceling everything I was doing and leaving it at that. However, I realized that wouldn’t be fair to those who put time reading this story or to me to throw my hands up and act like I don't want to do it. That said, it'll probably take a while before I get back into real writing fashion. All I got to say is sorry, I'm back now, and I will continue writing. -BB
