Faust's Commandment

Cold grey cuffs bit into his wrists. Chains attached to them led to the white metal table in front of him. Peter was in an orange jumpsuit, and he was as exposed as if he was wearing nothing. The bearskin garments he had worked so hard to create, the ones blessed by Faust, had been stripped from him and taken away.

That was almost as infuriating as the loss of Godly power. Peter still had the Bestowal– once the promise was there, it stayed. But the actual enabling power was startlingly absent. Otherwise, Peter would never be here, under the watchful eye of two guards in the corners with unsheathed truncheons.

Peter did his best to not look at them. He did his best to not look anywhere, except straight ahead. The enormous mirror to Peter’s right was obviously also a window. Doubtless, a team of dozens were examining him. Perhaps to see his reaction to waiting for so long.

An hour ago, he had been promised that his lawyer would come in. But Peter had scowled at the news. He didn't want anything to do with lawyers or officers or any other law profession. The law would be changed to fit his crime, or vice versa– if the law was even just in the first place.

Peter grimaced. He remembered the feelings in the moment of bashing that corporate shill into his own table. It felt good, but it most likely wasn’t what Faust would do. Right? Perhaps– if Faust was okay with setting Ponyville on fire, then surely that wouldn’t be worse.

But perhaps it was less about the action and more about the feeling and motivation behind it. Peter had done that out of spite, not duty. Was it possible he was going to prison because of that one mistake?

I’m not sure anymore, Peter mourned. What’s going on? Am I powerless now, or is there something I should do now that I’m condemned? Come on, Faust, throw me a bone here!

A metallic squeak of the door brought Peter’s head turning. A light brown mare with a curled white mane and in a very small white blouse and pencil skirt sauntered in, businesslike and professional. A worn leather suitcase was in one hand.

“So,” she inspected, giving Peter a once-over. “You must be my client.” Her voice was deep and clipped, English and prim. There was reproach in her tone that made it very clear that she didn’t want the job.

Peter only numbly nodded. He didn’t dare look into her very exposed cleavage.

The mare gently settled into the chair opposite Peter, undoing the suitcase clasps. “I’m Rose Water, your criminal defense lawyer. You haven’t said anything since you were taken in?”

Peter shook his head.

“Good,” Rose huffed. “You aren’t that big of an idiot.”

Was she trying to get on his nerves? Peter didn’t answer.

“The goal here is to lessen your sentence as much as possible,” Rose Water continued, easing up the lid of her suitcase and extracting a stack of papers. “We all know you’re guilty of terrorism. You admitted it on live television. But perhaps if we can say that you’re insane or mentally ill, or even that you had a spell placed on you, we can-”

“I’m not,” Peter said, tilting his head down and crinkling the chains on his wrists.

Rose Water sighed. “Then pretend like you are. Otherwise, you go into the slammer and you’re never coming out.”

Peter didn’t answer.

“Ooh, suddenly you don’t have much to say?” Rose Water probed. She giggled. “Perhaps you just said everything you needed to. Now that I know you don’t have any God to silence opposition, let me say my piece.”

Peter’s irritated eyes briefly flickered to his lawyer.

“I’m not rooting for you,” Rose made known. “Nopony in Equestria is. I don’t think in the history of the world, there was ever somepony more plainly an enemy to progress as you. As far as getting out of here in one piece, I’d say you have a…” Peter’s lawyer glanced down at Peter’s crotch. “...small chance.” She giggled again, then posed on the side of the interrogation table. “But together, maybe you and I could make it bigger.”

Peter turned his head to Rose Water. His face creased with disgust as he glanced at her waist before looking directly into her eyes. “Fat chance.”

Rose put a hand to her bosom, her face betraying absolute shock. “Wow. Wow. Can any of you believe this? Guards, did you just hear him? How disrespectful can you get?”

Peter barely stifled a snort. How out of touch could she be? “You stupid woman,” Peter noted, then burst into uproarous laughter.

“That is IT!” Rose snapped, slamming her hands onto the table and startling Peter’s laughter. “If rotting in here is what you want, go ahead and do it! I’ll get paid better for the next job anyway.”

Rose crossly began gathering up her papers while Peter’s stomach did backflips at the news. But an announcement was made over the intercom before she finished. “You will be paid triple your current rate.”

Peter and Rose looked up at the speaker in the ceiling with surprise. Peter’s surprise, however, came from the pony saying it.

“The rule of law must be followed,” Princess Celestia’s voice soothed. “Even for a man such as he.”

Rose grumbled something and folded her arms under her enormous chest. But she stayed in the room. And no one else came in, either. But now Peter knew that Celestia was watching him. Likely, Twilight and her friends were too. Peter could imagine the collection of pastel ponies anxiously watching his every move from behind the wall-length mirror.

“I’m willing to talk,” Peter said.

“You’ve done enough talking,” Rose sourly mumbled. But she nodded in acknowledgment. She tapped her papers on the desk again and began sweeping them out. “So… Peter Browning. Prophet of Faust. How exactly do you intend to explain yourself in court? And no, ‘because I thought it was right,’ isn’t an acceptable defense.”

“Because everypony I’ve run into so far is reprehensible,” Peter said.

“Oh, come now, you only speak from your own experiences. You simply haven’t met the right mare yet. Or stallion. Or animal, or child, or-”

“That’s the same thing Applejack said,” Peter bitterly remembered.

Rose Water perked her purple eyebrows up. “Do explain.”

Peter twisted his lips in annoyance. But he began.

“I’m from a different dimension,” Peter started. His voice was muffled through the glass, even with the microphones installed. On the other side of the mirrored room, in the control and spectator booth, Twilight and her friends watched expectantly beside Princess Celestia and Luna. Twilight nodded at Peter’s words as they came through.

“Well, one day I fell asleep. Next thing I know, I’m in the center of Ponyville. Thought it was a dream at first, but some things just don’t wake you up. I was scared. Then Pinkie emerged from her sweet shop. Things went south from there, and I got uncomfortable, so I escaped and headed for a place to stay. Sweet Apple Acres.”

So that was how Applejack figured into the equation. Now they were getting to the part where Applejack and Peter’s testimonies came together.

“Go on,” Rose Water murmured, jotting something down with a pen.

“Tried to make a spot for myself in the barn. Applejack tried making a move on me, and I said no. She continued. I threatened her. She was confused. Why would I refuse something that good? I must not know what it felt like. So she would let me know. Then she lassoed me, tied me to a post. And she… ripped off my clothes. Hit me after I tried fighting back. I was screaming, but no one would come, and I didn’t want anyone else to join. She started jerking me. Mocking me. Threatening me. I was… scared. Embarrassed. Ashamed. Furious.”

Twilight gaped, her eyes wide. The rest of the girls and Spike, though, were either impassive or confused. Spike and Pinkie were even on the verge of laughter. Applejack betrayed no sign of guilt.

“So that’s it,” Spike vindictively noted. “The great Prophet, crying in a mud puddle because he got a handjob. What a virgin!”

“Shh,” Twilight hissed. For some odd reason, Spike’s vindictiveness made something cry in outrage inside her. But she swallowed it down.

Once Rose Water finished writing, Peter continued. “I prayed. The ropes came off. And I choked her out. Could have killed her. Chose not to. Her sister spotted me, and I ran. Into the Everfree. And I discovered…” Peter paused as if he were about to reveal something important. He eventually said, “Well, Faust came to me. Gave me instructions, showed me how to survive. I killed a bear and made clothes from him. Only found out later that it was Fluttershy’s bear. I also stumbled across Zecora, and she drugged me. Tried to assault me. I fought back, though, and killed her too. I learned about the statue in Ponyville, and I… pooped the party.” There was a dark, reluctant humor in the way he said it.

“I still won’t forgive you,” Pinkie darkly muttered, making Twilight turn her head. There were faint lines in her chin and nose from the wounds Peter had given her. Rainbow and Rarity both made sounds of affirmation. And Twilight couldn’t help but wonder why her heart seemed to constrict in pain.

In the white room, Rose Water strained her ears for more. But upon figuring out that they were both on the same page now, she nodded. “All right. This isn’t looking good for you.”

Peter bulged his eyes; it was the first look of shock Twilight had seen from the human. “What? What’re you-”

“You assaulted Applejack,” Rose Water stated. “Slew Fluttershy’s bear, which was her property and her sex partner. Killed Zecora. Assault, battery, theft, manslaughter– and that’s before the aforementioned terrorism. You resisted affection from every mare you came across, and probably every stallion, too, because there’s some unresolved issue inside of you that makes you so intolerant and hateful. Peter, you’re a very troubled individual, and you had a bad first day. In your impressionable and vulnerable state, Faust radicalized you and made you her accomplice.” Rose Water waved something aside. “That is, of course, if you aren’t under a spell or curse. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Peter had been trying to interject several times throughout, but when Rose was done, he decided to refuse to say anything. There was outrage and confusion in his countenance.

“My recommendation is to plead insanity. Or that you were under a curse, or that you were possessed by a demon that you thought was Faust. That’s the only way to salvage your position here. It doesn’t even matter if you aren’t possessed; it would be a reasonable way to lessen your sentence.”

“Say I am possessed,” Peter sourly admitted. “How do you intend to get this demon out?”

“That’s what Twilight is for,” Rose Water said. “She’ll be along in a few weeks to assist you.”

“Weeks?” Peter asked.

“She’s a very busy mare,” Rose said. Twilight couldn’t help but squirm.

And Peter glanced right at her! It was quick, but unmistakable. “I’m sure she is,” he dryly said.

Twilight’s heart began playing the snare drum. Did he know? Was this his power coming back? Or was it just intuition?

The rest of the meeting went calmly. Just some clarification questions. It didn’t take long before the chief of police himself entered the room and indicated for Peter to follow him. Peter was unshackled and led out of the room with the two guards beside him. Rose Water followed, a clak on every step of her stilettos.

Once the room was empty, Twilight’s dry mouth found words.

“Applejack,” Twilight warned, turning to her girlfriend. “That detail wasn't in your story.”

“What detail?” Applejack asked.

“That Peter didn't want a handjob.”

“He didn't know he didn't want it,” Applejack pushed aside. “If he hadn't fought back, Ah woulda finally gotten through ta him. Mindbreak’s a pretty hot kink.”

Twilight sputtered for a few seconds. “B-but isn't the whole point of Equestria supposed to be acceptance and tolerance? If he didn't want it, you should have-”

“He wan't part of us,” Applejack patiently said. “And Ah woulda made ‘im ma boy toy if it weren't for his own actions. Way Ah see it, he wan't tolerant and accepting of us. He broke the law. It's his fault.”

Twilight examined the rest of her friends. They were nodding along or making affirmative noises.

“Again, Twilight,” Celestia cooed with a hand on Twilight’s back, “the fate of Equestria doesn’t rely on a handjob. Sooner or later it would have reached this stage. Applejack has nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Twilight started, glancing between her serene mentor and her smug friend. After some failure to find words, Twilight sighed. “Fine. Then what are we planning on doing for Peter?”

“We’ll give him some time to reflect on his actions,” Luna judged. She rotated her bare shoulders and rested on the back wall. “Right now he’ll be taken from the police station to the local jail, and he’ll be kept in solitary confinement for the foreseeable future until his more permanent stay in prison.”

“And in the meantime, I have a special treat,” Rarity announced with glee, practically vibrating in place. “A lingerie shopping trip in Manehattan with the princesses! Doesn’t that sound so exciting, Twilight?”

Twilight took a few seconds to answer. “Yeah. Sounds fun.”

“Is something on your mind, Twilight?” Celestia asked. There was a hint of something sterner, tougher, in her tone.

“Well, it just doesn’t make sense,” Twilight admitted, a hand to her chin. “You’re speaking in terms of certainty, like he’ll go to prison no matter what. So if you’ve already made up your minds, why does he have to go through this whole rigmarole of a lawyer and trial?”

“Because it’s the kind thing to do,” Fluttershy meeped, and it was a little more defiant than usual.

“There, see? Element of Kindness right there with your answer,” Rainbow Dash dismissed, slapping Fluttershy on the butt. “What else do you want? Come on, Twilight, we’re losing daylight here!”

As Rarity hurriedly led the way out of the observation room, Twilight fell obediently into line. She took one last look at the empty interrogation room. Then hustled out at the behest of Pinkie after getting spanked.

The instant that Peter was taken out of sight of the interrogation room, he was seized upon by the escort of guards and the chief of police, hurled to the side of the hallway, squishing his face into the wall. Rose Water watched all this happen, disinterested.

“You’re not a normal prisoner,” the chief of police hissed in Peter’s ear like a hurricane. “This isn’t how we usually do things. But no, you’re special, you’re Faust’s chosen one!”

A blow to the ear, a cry of pain. The snap of a taser on his chest. A glove whistling at his forehead.

Nothing.

Cuffs. Cold, hard things squeezing his wrists. And a cold hard slab on his back, too; that was new.

Peter blinked hard several times and shook his head to get eye crud out of his tear ducts. He was sitting on the chilly concrete ground, barely protected by a layer of straw, with his legs extended. Peter shivered and adjusted his seat. But he couldn’t get very far, because he had been chained to the wall.

It was one of those old-style cuffs and chains too. There was room enough to move his arms and hands about a foot in any direction. They were hanging limp at the moment, though.

To his left was a collection of rusty brown pipes leading into the ground and ceiling, which was only six feet high at the most. Peter could see the highest point: right under the underside of dark metal stairs in his right corner. One metal door, old and peeling blue paint, led in and out. The only source of light was a bare, slightly flickering incandescent bare yellow light bulb stuck in the ceiling.

There were no guards. Peter obviously didn’t need any in this basement. There was nothing to do.

Peter bowed his head, gritting his teeth. All of this for one mistake in the heat of the moment? What was Faust’s deal?! Was this Her plan, then– to get Her servant locked in prison for teaching the truth? What happened with the loss of power? Peter’s mind strained for answers.

None of them were satisfying.