The Universe Hates You Specifically

Bea woke to the taste of bile; an acrid taint in her mouth and an unpleasant feeling of instability just below her sternum, as if something was just waiting for its chance to surge back up her throat. Her hooves were sore, and felt tight. Shackles? She half-heartedly shook one of her forelegs, and her suspicions were confirmed by the resonant sound of metal on metal. The sound alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes as it pierced her hearing, scraping at her tender brain.

She found herself in darkness, until she opened her eyes. As they fluttered open, pain flooded her senses- it felt for all the world like there was a crack in her head, and no matter how tightly she shut her eyes, the blissful darkness from before would not return.

The lights tore into her from every angle- brightness like this was extremely unnatural, and in her current state it was blinding. Everything was on fire, and the flames were starting to lick up the walls, threatening to consume the entire room.

And then, in a single moment, the inferno was extinguished. Relief washed in, the cool soothing her pain. And then she heard what had to be the worst possible sound in the world.

“Hey kid.” The mare’s voice was deep, scratchy, and without a single shred of emotion. With each one of Her hoofsteps, Bea found herself losing clarity as a new wave of discomfort stabbed into her head. Of course She would be here. “You look like shit.”

Finally brave enough to try opening her eyes once again, Bea met Her face. “Josephine.” she weakly croaked the name. Jo cocked her head, before clapping her hooves once. The lights sprang on once more at full intensity and Bea let out a mostly silent scream.

~~~

Edgar had keenly surveyed the scene below him. The comatose witch had been hastily bound, and from there, three of the robed figures had carried her off. The other three had begun to pick up their wounded from where they’d fallen. A few re-joined with the other group to help escort the witch, but two of them needed to be seen by a doctor fairly urgently, forcing the party to separate into two.

There were six ponies guarding his target, but only four in the other group- and only two of them would actually be capable of doing anything. They would probably all end up going back to the same place. Edgar made another choice.

The two ponies left to carry their injured- one was clearly the stronger of the two, larger and evidently accustomed to lugging heavy weights about, as he easily picked up his charge- with no concern spared for any vertebral injuries that his comrade might have suffered after being flung about like a ragdoll.

The other was almost shrimp-like in comparison. But the hem of his robe was notably yellow, singling him out as different to the rest of the individuals, with their monochromatic uniforms. Perhaps some kind of lieutenant? Somepony who knew something?

He spared a final glance at the Witch, before refocusing himself. He stood vigilant, a feathered gargoyle, waiting for his new target to be isolated.

~~~

“How are you feeling?” Jo had gone back to pacing, and while Bea’s psyche shattering headache had dulled, the pain was still there. She had screwed her eyes shut, but the respite it brought was mostly psychological. “Hey.” When Jo spoke again, it came out as a growl, and soon she became aggravated in her impatience. “Hey! Look at me when I’m talking!” Bea turned her head away from the noise, flattening her ears. It didn’t help. “Look at me.” Jo audibly sneered and the cruel vocalisation hung in the air. Sluggishly, Bea tried to crawl away from her aggressor, chains clinking and she half-slid, half-walked her leaden body a meagre distance.

Jo thundered across the room, grabbed Bea roughly by the chin and roared at her, spittle flying from her mouth. “LOOK AT ME!” The agony peaked. Bea lunged forward, her chains squealing in protest as she strained against them. The terrible grinding sound of the metal pushed her even further, and the metal buckled and gave way entirely, and she lunged blindly at the mare in front of her.

Bea’s head collided with Jo’s, and the headbutt sent both mares careening backwards- however, for Bea, her mind went completely blank as she discovered a new height of suffering. A tiny bit of blood trickled down her horn. Jo drunkenly swayed from side to side, then staggered forward as the shock wore off, letting out a guttural cry as she furiously delivered a massive kick to Bea’s forehead.

Bea’s brain shorted out.

~~~

Onyx Hunt was not strong enough to carry two ponies’ weight on his own. Keeping himself up was hard enough most of the time, and carrying another pony seemed absolutely absurd. In an ideal world, Onyx would just be able to use his magic to do all the heavy lifting.

Tunks had told him to stop faffing about, ignoring Onyx’s protestations, and the burlier unicorn had already carried Silver out to the mouth of the alley. “Wait up!” Onyx called out in desperation, tripping over a misshapen cobble and dropping his injured comrade. Tunks kept walking.

“Shit!” He pushed aside the unconscious stallion and went to swing at a dumpster in frustration, missing completely and falling hard on his shoulder. Scowling, he got up, dusted himself off and turned to face the task in front of him again. It was late enough; maybe if he used a small spell to help things along, nopony would notice? He pulled back his hood and turned around, already resolute in his decision to use magic to make things easier.

An imposing figure towered above him. Dark, feathered and muscular, the griffon spoke so casually that Onyx almost forgot to panic. “S’ your friend hurt?” he drawled in a slightly exaggerated accent.

“I-” Onyx fell silent as the catbird placed his talons on his shoulder. This stranger, he thought, could very easily shred him apart.

“Yeah look; I’m not gonna ask. D’ya need help, or not?”

Onyx squeaked, completely unsure of what to do. “Yes!” Shit. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t figure out a way to fix this. The griffon picked Tulip up with ease, slinging the unconscious pony over his back.

“Let’s get goin’ then. Hospital’s this way, ain’t it?”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Onyx looked around desperately for a solution. A glint in the darkness catches his eye, and the goddesses deliver him the answer to his problem. A ritual knife, discarded during the scuffle with the witch. Lips curling up into a snarl, he shakily levitated the crooked instrument and sent it flying forward with a burst of speed. The griffon turned around, letting the knife soar past him harmlessly, lodging itself firmly in the bricks. Onyx blinked.

“You…” As the griffon turned to face him, Onyx braced himself for a painful death. “You didn’t answer the question, friend.” If the feathered behemoth had noticed the unsuccessful attempt on his life, he showed absolutely no sign of it.

“Buh?”

“Well, y’know. Twas a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. A vague affirmation doesn’t exactly help.” Edgar smiled warmly at Onyx, who at this point in time could only fixate on how sharp the griffon’s beak was.

Well, we all have to die some time, he thought. Might as well be now.

~~~

Chains surrounded her, the cold kiss of metal upon her coat stinging as she stirred. Having already demonstrating her ability to free herself from her earlier restraints, her captors had taken the easiest approach to rectifying the situation and had completely bound her with the metal links, preventing even the slightest movement of her head, thus forcing her vision to be locked onto a small portion of her surroundings.

At least she’d been moved away from the eye-searing room from before. Her head still pounded, but it somehow felt better than it had before, even though it should have been agonising.

The bench she was chained to was more or less tucked into the corner of a room that had been haphazardly furnished to give the impression of a hospital- her area was separated from the rest of the room by a few sheets of fabric that had been inexpertly sewn together and hung from a rail. In her immediate vicinity, there were a hoofful of machines that she could see with her limited vision- they all served indeterminable purposes, and some hooked directly onto her while others stood freely.

A fly landed on her muzzle, settling for but a moment and then taking off again in the span of a few seconds. From her left came a steady tick, simultaneously providing an almost hypnotic sense of calm while aggravating her further. Another minute passed.

The silence begged to be filled, but Bea refused to speak, instead maintaining an intense focus as she waited for the inevitability of an interruption.

The curtains in front of her were no doubt intended to provide her with a sense of privacy, although the fact that they were obviously ripped out of somepony’s bathroom ruined the effect of the makeshift infirmary.

Doors squeaked open out of her sight, and swung shut, swishing as they brushed against each other. A set of light hoofsteps moved closer, accompanied with a light swish of fabric as the folds of their robes rubbed past each other. Whoever it was, they moved so lethargically, with such consideration, that it had taken them a few minutes to reach her as they set about the room, no doubt attending to countless other matters before they finally deigned to reveal themselves to her.

Without any fanfare, the curtains were thrown back, revealing a rather grey stallion, whose weariness was apparent by his unkempt facial hair and the prevalent bags under his eyes. It would have been difficult for Bea to recognise him, were it not for his vestments, priestly and noble. Unlike his body and spirit, his garb was carefully maintained, and not a single crease could be spotted along his robes- the caduceus upon his medallion shone, even in the dim lamplight, and his collar was impeccably straight.

She affixed him with a cold glare. “Hello, Regent.” Not missing a beat, Solemn Cray meandered over to her side, checking the dressings on her wounds, the readings on the monitors, before coming to stand squarely in her view.

“Lady Lulamoon.” Even with the chains, she spasmed at his use of the title, causing a cascade of metallic noise as her innumerable bindings collided with each other.

Shaking his head, he reached gently forward to push a lock of her mane back behind her ear. “Apologies… Beatrix.” Satisfied, he stepped back a little, observing her face. “It has been such a long time, my dear.” He mused thoughtfully, finally stepping away to grab something just outside of her peripheral vision. As he came back over, in his hoof was a small bottle. He proffered them forward, as if she was capable of doing anything but staring at him. He quirked an eyebrow at her, feigning bemusement at her treatment of him.

He shook the bottle lightly, and her eyes darted to it, and then back to him. “It’s medicine. To help with your… instability.” He pulled up a chair and sat, thoughtfully gesticulating with the bottle as he spoke. “The pain.” The pills hit the sides of the container. “The nausea.” Rattle; a pattering drumbeat, infuriating in its lack of resolution. “The… hallucinations?” The room fell silent for a moment as he stilled himself. “Or perhaps, you- like the others- consider them to be visions?”

He looked at her, obviously displeased with receiving the silent treatment. “You do know, I had to fight them over leaving your mouth unbound. It would be a terrible shame, if- in the end- you didn’t even bother to use it.”

Placing the bottle back on the counter, he returned with a poultice of some description, and began to apply it to the base of her horn, patting her gently on the back as he did so. “I even argued that there was little point to sealing your magic, but they gave me no heed on that front. It’s not like their doctor would know anything, would he? Pah.” His treatment was soothing, and she did appreciate it, even if he was still actively keeping her there.

“What. Did they do to me?” A spool of chains around her back foreleg began to unravel. Cray quickly retightened them, fixing her with a confused look.

“I beg your pardon?” his voice, low and dry, briefly grew ever so slightly louder.

She spat the words out, and another “When you kidnapped me. Again.” He sniffed, letting out a one syllable laugh as a short exhalation. He tapped rapidly at the floor, shaking his head in a show of mild amusement. “When they used that spell back there- the thing that knocked me down-” He couldn’t help himself as he let out a little chuckle. More chains hit the floor, slapping heavily at the side of the bench as they fell. “When they forced me, to feel the pain of an entire. Fucking. Lifetime.” She tried desperately to call upon her magic, to no avail. Instead, it merely collected within her- a pool of spiritual energy and mana, heat and power, racing towards a crescendo. She desperately longed for release, but none came.

His contained laughter hurt her; filled her with something beyond anger. It was a sadness- like mourning. More chains slipped off, and if one were to inspect them closely, they would note that the links themselves had expanded; barely perceptible steam still rising off them.

“Beatrix, darling.” He laughed as he shuffled back over. “The acolytes didn’t even have the chance to complete their ritual.” He paused halfway as he stooped to collect the fallen chains. “You did that to yourself! You have neglected your role for far too long, and the universe itself is punishing you for resisting destiny!” He grabbed a bundle of chains- immediately cursing and dropping them as they burnt his flesh.

Bea was glowing.

“Nopony made you kidnap me.”

The chains came off in a shower as she stood, some of them having begun to melt.

“Things were going just fine until your cult came back into my life.” She strode forward, even as her skin began to blister and crack; even as heat rose off her body in waves. “A loving family-”

The Regent fumbled over his words as he tripped over on a cart of medical supplies, falling backwards. “WE loved you- even… even if sometimes it hurt! And besides- this never would have happened, if you hadn’t ran!”

Her advance continued. “-I have friends now, not many- sure… but enough. Real friends, not- zealous sycophants, who only saw me as a means to gain more power.”

Eyes widening, he scrambled backwards across the floor, clutching at his injured hoof. In an act of desperation, he lit his horn, using telekinesis to try and wrap some of the remaining bindings tighter around her hoof. Even then, a bead of sweat trickled down her face, releasing an immediate whirl of steam as it hit those remaining chains, and the link tethering her to the wall was cleaved in two.

“Beatrix please! Be reasonable! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

He could only look on in horror as she advanced, the chains he had made an effort to tighten, now attached to nothing but themselves. Rivulets of crimson started to seep down the hoof where the chains met her skin.

“BEATRIX! WAIT!” He panted out, almost screaming. He could hear ponies outside. Please,he prayed. Please, just stay out there.

“I’d even managed to forget most of the shit you guys pulled over the course of my life- I have a job! Purpose, and people that depend upon me!”

“Look at your hoof!” He pointed wildly, his protestations falling on deaf ears.

“I am happy now! AWAY FROM YOU!”

“DAMNITALL, GIRL! YOU’RE MELTING!” The old stallion clutched at a medical tray like a shield, knowing that it would do nothing to help him. Momentarily, she relented, registering her hoof- the chains cooling for a moment, stopping their gradual descent inwards.

Then the door burst open, panicked and angry shouts filling the room. Bea combusted in a flash of light, and she howled in pain as she became one with the metal.

She was right on top of him now and the heat wafting off her scalded him, writhing limply under her fiery form, embers sparking but failing to catch in his robes and mane.

He braced for an impact that never came. The consumed witch bolted past him, breaking out into the hall with a scream that was soon echoed by those around her.

Mentally, he chided himself for thinking told you so, and after a minute passed, he peered out the doorway, observing the wake of her destruction. Nopony was dead, as far as he could tell. He smiled, a wan thing that betrayed his weariness.