Midnight

I'm left with one burning question after another while I flip between keeping my eye on Midnight and looking down at Kenneth passed out against the wall.

How the hell does one rouse someone who's passed out? Do cold water splashes actually work? Did he hit his head on the way down? Should I call emergency services? How the hell am I gonna explain the situation if I do?

It seemed like he was on the way down and out of it before slipping from sight... and I didn't hear a thump during his collapse... and he was already leaning up against the counter.

Midnight isn't helping my frenzied thought processes; she's currently standing about a foot from the unconscious man, posed as if ready to pounce should this somehow be a ruse or something.

"Mid, I don't think you need to watch over him like that," I finally speak. "I guess it's safe to assume this is the guy?"

Midnight relaxes her posture – a little bit. But she's at least willing to tear her eyes away from him and look at me with a dumbfounded expression. "You saw his reaction, you see him now – what the hell do you think?" she blurts out.

"Hey, I'm just trying— let's do away with the sarcasm. I'm a little freaked out right now considering the situation," I protest, gesturing to our current problem.

Midnight's ears dip, finally letting her guard down completely. "Sorry... I guess having a relative stranger passed out in our garage is— yeah, this isn't an ideal situation," she manages to stumble out, syncing in with my current state of mind.

"What was with the new hiding spot, anyway? Spent all that time setting it up, and you bailed on it."

"Mmm... there's more than one reason there," she answers in a slow, measured tone.

"That's helpful," I mutter under my breath.

"If you must know, it was partly because of a dream I remembered from a few weeks ago – the idea suddenly didn't sit right with me," she sighs before suddenly hardening her expression. "And I also started to consider the possibility of you constantly looking over in my direction and making him suspicious, which you kinda did. But you also made him suspicious overall, at the end of it."

Alright, so maybe I should have left that alone...

"Yeah, I guess those interrogation classes I took last week didn't stick with me. My bad," I joke, shrugging my shoulders. "What convinced you to speak up and make your presence known? It wasn't a particularly calm and collected discussion by that point – that seemed dicey to me."

"Exactly – with how worked up he was starting to get, I was worried about you," she replies, pointing a hoof at me.

"And you suddenly speaking from out of seemingly nowhere made it worse," I remind her.

"Things weren't going anywhere at that point – I felt like we got everything you could pull from him. But it was enough... I went with my gut just based on his answers and demeanor."

"I really wish you had a better explanation than going with your gut."

"Oh, quit your bitching. You're suddenly pretty talkative for someone worried about a dude passed out on the floor."

"Oh, do you have an idea of what we should do? Because I'm all ears," I retort, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

Midnight's eyes go a bit wide once I turn the tables on her. "I don't know. Slap him around a bit or something."

"Fantastic idea. Assaulting him will definitely get things sorted out," I mouth off back to her.

"Not in the literal sense... what, you wanna just sit here and wait?"

"No, but... it's not like I've had experience with this sort of thing. Just seen it in movies," I admit, dropping my arms back to my side. "Which, that being said – go upstairs and get some cold water. I guess we'll try something simple first."

To my surprise, Midnight doesn't question me or bat an eye at the suggestion. In the blink of an eye, she darts toward the stairs and scampers up to the top. It leaves me alone for a moment to consider everything that just happened.

For someone who may have had a hand in Midnight's successful escape, it was odd to see him so freaked out by her presence. He recognized her, there's no doubt about that despite my rather obtuse musing earlier.

Maybe Midnight has more of a reputation than she ever let on – I haven't forgotten her attitude problem in the first month or two of living with her. But could it have been even worse before that? Has Midnight given me the full story of her past, or have some details been left out?

Do I want those answers? Will that do me any good to know more?

I still trust her. Midnight isn't the mare she was even a month ago. But depending on what Kenneth has to say... maybe the past will be set in a different light from here on out. But it all depends on whether he's willing to talk to us.

I hear Midnight trotting down the steps now – it would seem scaring the wits out of one person to the point of fainting has made her willing to announce a return via heavy hoof. She approaches with a large glass of water floating in front of her as I squat down beside Kenneth.

"You want me to just dump it on him or what?" Midnight asks, taking a hard look at Kenneth again.

"Maybe we can try being a bit more tactful to start," I reply, gesturing for the water glass. Midnight offers it up to me, though I merely dip my fingers into the frigid water. Pulling my hand out, I flick my hand towards the unconscious man, sprinkling his face.

There's no sign of stirring, even after giving it a few seconds.

"John, I've seen it where they take the whole container of water and just pour it on the person," Midnight speaks up, disappointed by the lack of success.

"Yeah, probably in movie clips," I scoff, casting my eyes upon her again.

"Isn't that where you got this idea?"

"Hey, your idea was to beat the shit out of him."

"Only a pussy like you could consider a slap to the face the equivalent of 'beating the shit out of him'," Midnight sasses. "It was more or less a joke anyways. You know, that thing you often do?"

"...ngh..? Wha..?

Midnight and I both seal our lips as Kenneth starts to mumble back into consciousness. For the sake of this guy, I try shooing Midnight away with my hand, but she isn't going to budge. She closes her eyes, shakes her head, and takes a seat upon her haunches, right in front of Kenneth on the concrete floor.

Alright, so we might go two for two here on fainting upon sight of her – at least Kenneth is already on the floor. Tonight is feeling like Midnight and I are checking off all the boxes for a bonafide disaster.

Kenneth's eyes gradually flutter open – then snap wide when he takes in Midnight's form sitting in front of him. "You— you actually made it?" he gasps.

Midnight remains mum, but her eyes flick over to me for a moment, as if concerned I may have somehow missed that remark and its significance.

First things first – I'm not keen on staying squatted down like this for a discussion. "Hey... uh, Kenneth— you feel alright to stand up and get a proper seat in a chair or something?"

He turns his head to look at me, a brief second of surprise at my appearance before his memory starts to connect the dots. "Yeah... I think so," he murmurs, rubbing his forehead. "I'm guessing I fainted?"

It's my turn to be surprised at his lack of concern or alarm at the concept. "Is— is that a common thing for you?"

"I wouldn't say it's common, but I have low blood pressure – extreme stress can sometimes... yeah, I pass out sometimes."

Rising up, I let my legs stretch out for a moment before gently helping Kenneth to his feet. In the meantime, Midnight circles around behind us, for a reason I don't know. But when she reappears, she's dragging along the bucket seat normally set off in the corner behind the counter – her normal seat. But now, she gestures for me to get him seated in it.

Kenneth's eyes refuse to stray far from Midnight during this time. His mouth is left agape, and it makes me worry he could faint again by the shock of where he finds himself.

"So... I guess you two kind of know each other," I comment, hoping to get him to focus.

"Not really – I've... well, I've dealt with... uh..." Kenneth just gestures to Midnight now, for lack of a name.

"Midnight," she speaks up. "I actually have a name now – it's not just a gibberish project code or a pet name."

Kenneth nods at the bit of information but has nothing else to add or continue on from his pause. To my relief, he seems alright now as he takes a seat in Midnight's chair.

"You seem surprised that I'm still alive and kicking. You know, I'm almost offended by that, Johnson... or I guess Kenneth would be more proper now." Midnight says. Her initial sarcastic wit trails off while she fumbles with what to call him.

"N–no, I didn't mean it that way," he protests with palpable unease. "I'm surprised that I came across you. I figured if you got out, you would get far away from this area as possible."

"Yeah... sort of difficult to travel when you stick out like a sore thumb – and anyone finding out what you are is liable to call the authorities," Midnight explains. "It made more sense to keep a low profile. And I really didn't know where I came from at the time. For all I knew, I was hundreds of miles from my origin spot."

"How did you not know? You escaped from the building on your own, didn't you?"

"Did I?" Midnight suggests in response, raising an eyebrow. " I thought it was awfully convenient someone dropped a memo in my room detailing the imminent termination of my project. Also an odd coincidence a ventilation duct was left open nearby."

"What makes you think it was me?"

Midnight can't help but roll her eyes at the feeble retort she receives, but softens her expression before answering him. "I suppose I don't know for certain. But you seemed to be the only person I can recall with half a heart in my time there. It certainly wasn't that miserable son of a bitch you called 'boss,' and there weren't many others I had regular interactions with, so..."

Kenneth drops his head now, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I really didn't think you noticed," he mumbles. "To be fair, you had every right to hate us with everything going on. But you never acknowledged my concern, so I thought nothing of it."

"No... I didn't," Midnight admits, her ears sagging. "I didn't realize it until much later. I was absorbed in my own misery and frustration, and I tried forgetting as much as I could of that hellhole once I got out. But come clean – was it you? It's not like I'm gonna tattle on you."

"Leaving the paper in your room, yes. I'm not sure what you're talking about with the duct though... how exactly did you escape?" Kenneth inquires, leaning forward.

"First of all, I figured out how to manipulate the inner workings of door locks. Frankly, I'm surprised you idiots never gave that possibility a thought considering my abilities," she says with a chuckle. "But I suppose I did try to hide some of what I could do for my own benefit. After that, I found the open duct and crawled through that – not much for options there. I ended up coming out in a hall near a scrap room, found a dump truck with a full load of junk... I didn't know where it was going, but anything was better than where I was. I dove into the back and waited."

"That's how you got out?" Kenneth blurts, wide-eyed as he leans back in his seat again.

"How the fuck else was I supposed to get out? Walk through the front doors to salvation?" Midnight shoots back, letting loose the first view of her snappy side.

"Uh... yeah, kind of. I left some of the doors unlocked for a few days – that was right around Christmas, so there was hardly anyone there in the lab."

Now Midnight gets the chance to go wide-eyed, though her expression is much shorter-lived. "How the hell was I supposed to know that? It's not like I was filled in on your holidays and special events – and I didn't have a calendar to keep track of what the date was anyway. Not that it mattered to me in that pit."

With Midnight now in full control of this civil conversation, I step back. I head around the corner of the counter and take a seat on a stool, happy to be a bystander. Interestingly, I have a rough timetable on Midnight's arrival here now, and how long she lived out back before contact – about six months.

"I... yeah, I didn't give that much thought, did I?" Kenneth replies, ending it with a nervous laugh. "But I'm still surprised you hid in a scrap truck. I would have been concerned with the idea of getting dumped into a molten pit of metal – or waiting for month for it to leave."

"Well, it was full to the top, so no way it was going to sit there for months," Midnight explains. "As for the other part... I took a chance. It was the only way I saw forward to get out scot-free with the knowledge I had at the time. And it worked out, since you guys take the cheap way out of getting rid of junk."

"And you found her?" Kenneth asks, turning to look at me.

I have to shrug, grinning at that memory. "It was more like she found me, if I'm to be honest here – she's very good at hiding, if tonight wasn't a good indicator. That was months after she was dumped here, and she made me a deal I couldn't refuse. Turns out that gadget you jammed in her allowing her to move metal objects is really handy working on cars."

Kenneth cringes at my description, slowly turning to face forward again with his head hung low, the regret visible on his face. "I guess... that's why I tried to give her an opportunity. No, give you an opportunity," he says, hardening his resolve to look at Midnight. "When I got that job, I never anticipated being the part of something so awful, doing all these... all those procedures just to test out ideas. Even though I wasn't there for all of it, and none of it was my idea... I still helped. And I had to watch you going through all that pain and recovery every step of the way. Mr Richardson didn't care, but—"

"I'm guessing that's bald boy's name?" Midnight interrupts.

"The boss? Yeah."

"I'll pretend I never heard that name. He doesn't deserve to be in my memories," Midnight growls. "Everything I went through was for him to look like some brilliant fucking genius. I was just a 'thing' to him, to be used as a stepladder to his goals. And then he hired fucks like you to help carry out his work."

"I know it doesn't help, but I'm sorry," Kenneth mumbles, slumping his shoulders.

It causes Midnight to realize the tongue-lashing she unleashed just a second ago, forcing her to slump just a bit, too. "He also treated every one of his assistants like shit – including you," she backtracks. "it's why he went through so much help – but without a doubt, you stayed the longest, and you're the only one I could picture. Why did you stay?"

Though Midnight's bit of empathy gets him to sit up again, Kenneth has nothing to say. He shrugs his shoulders, but no answer comes for Midnight.

"You had to have some reason to put up with that shit for so long," Midnight protests, rising to her hooves. "He treated you like shit... I treated you like shit. No one else was willing to endure that for long. Was the money that good? Just be honest."

"I— I don't know if I really had a reason, Midnight," he proclaims. "You were a bit rude, but considering the circumstances... it's understandable you were bitter, so that didn't bother me. What bothered me the most was no one cared about— well, you have feelings too, you know? Why was it okay to put you through all these tests and procedures without asking? Why was it okay to put you through a life of pain and misery?"

What starts as an uncertain, shaky answer from Kenneth turns into a tirade of frustration and condemnation from the past. It forces Midnight into sitting down again, astounded by it all.

"You wanted someone to be there... someone that at least cared a little bit. That's it, isn't it? You couldn't stop it, but you could... you could endure it," she drones, awestruck.

"A little bit... yeah. I never really put too much thought into it. I didn't want to think about what I was being told to document. It bothered me, and the only way I could live with myself was... well, that's why I tried to talk to you. Listen to you, try to ease the pain. Have someone that acknowledged you were much more than a 'thing'."

"Midnight has been having flashbacks and dreams of the past – and you came up in some of them," I comment. "She's had a lot to think about with those memories and... well, Midnight isn't the same pony she once was. She can actually be nice now when she wants to be."

"Wow, thanks for the convincing vouch on my behalf, John. I'm touched," Midnight responds, offering up a sarcastic bite and a wry grin.

"I never had any doubt in my mind you could make it," Kenneth continues. "You passed every goal and test that was set before you... even despite some of the odds given. You fought through everything you were put through, and I just felt like... well, you deserved something better than 'termination'."

"I didn't fail one of those damn experiments," Midnight reaffirms, stomping a hoof down as her expression sours. "I refused to let myself fail. I started to figure out by staying alive and continuing to excel, your boss was stuck there with me. It was obvious to me he was unhappy continuing with a project supposedly below him, so I wanted to make him miserable. Eye for an eye, and all that."

"He... he actually started to believe that. Or at least thinking that way," Kenneth chimes in. "I thought he was just losing a few of his marbles. As the boss, he liked making it clear to us that his goal was moving up in the company. He never explicitly said it, but I saw enough correspondence and overheard enough discussion to say you're right – you being alive kept him there. The head honchos wanted to keep seeing what he could do with her."

"But why Midnight?" I blurt, unable to keep my aggravation with the tale from tainting my voice. "There were other ponies, weren't there? I'm not saying it's right to spread the misery, but what made Midnight the prime target?"

"There were other ponies, yeah – maybe ten, twelve?" Kenneth answers, shrugging at the indecisive count. "I was hired as Mr. Richardson's assistant – and I came along after a lot of decisions were made. I didn't see the other ponies much and wasn't involved with them at all. Mr. Richardson was the head of experimental, and he got to make many of his own calls. I was on a short leash – we all were – so asking whys and hows was a good way to get a reprimand. This was all underground and secret for a reason."

"I got picked because I was already a failure," Midnight grumbles. "I was the first attempt to match the coloration of a show pony – and they got it all fucked up. Not much use for a failure at birth – may as well use that one for experiments and save the small control group you have for general wellness and abnormalities."

"I... I never knew that about you," Kenneth gasps at the revelation.

Midnight shrugs off the dramatics. "Long story short, that was just extra ammo to force myself to succeed. For anyone else... that wasn't a detail that mattered."

The conversation stalls with that; both Midnight and Kenneth just stare down at the floor, unsure of where to pick up now with everything shared thus far.

I guess it gives me a moment to clear up my part in this evening's events...

"Midnight didn't notice you or your name from the orders until I called you," I speak up. "The package delivery service really did lose your original set of parts – but once Midnight overheard you on the phone and started thinking you might be the same Johnson she remembered... yeah, then there was some planning going on to meet you."

"I can't really say why I wanted to meet you," Midnight continues. "I can't really say I'm thankful, since we have to face the music you still watched all this shit happen. But I guess I wanted... I wanted your side of it. To hear if you really took pity on me. If all of it was as bad as my memory plays it out to be."

"I never enjoyed any of it. It was horrible what they did to you," Kenneth sighs. "And I was a part of it. I'm glad you got out, and it looks like you've made something of a life for yourself... but I don't think I'm any better for that."

"Well, if it's any consolation... I dunno, I guess it isn't – but it wasn't you there, someone else would have been, and possibly just as cruel as everyone else seemed to be. You were different and I can respect you for that. You gave me a chance. But by the sounds of it, you don't work there anymore?"

"No one works there anymore. The lab is gone."

"What?!" It's a chorus that Midnight and I exclaim in unison, startling Kenneth.

"Yeah. I guess if there's another silver lining of justice, your escape with unknown whereabouts spooked all the folks in charge of the facility. The factory making bots is still there and churning, but management picked up their secret area and took it somewhere up north. They were afraid of getting caught skirting regulations and creating... well, you. If you had gotten caught and decided to talk... They canned everyone in the lab, made us clear everything out, and scrubbed everything three or four times over to get rid of any trace."

"Just like that?"

"No one wants to be the first company caught playing God with these sorts of biological creations. The government will be sure to make an example of them, try to deter anyone from doing it. So best to just cut losses, keep the factory going and making some money, and take the research and important folks elsewhere. Drastic times call for drastic measures – I don't know anything about where exactly they went, or even if they changed names. Just north, somewhere."

"What about the ponies like me? What did they do with them?"

A shrug from Kenneth accompanied by a downtrodden look is Midnight's initial answer before he takes a deep breath. "I really don't know. They technically weren't part of my job, and I hardly saw them. I have no idea what they did with them. And I know you're gonna ask – Richardson went with them. He was promoted shortly thereafter, and he was considered one of the very important folks. I guess losing the experiment causing the move didn't matter much."

"Great. He gets to continue being a sadistic asshole," Midnight bemoans.

Perhaps her focus is currently on the negatives here, but mine isn't – I'm on the opposite side of the fence. "Midnight, you're missing the bigger point here," I interrupt, circling around the counter to turn my attention squarely to Kenneth. "So everyone involved with her, the company ties to her or would want her back – they're all gone?"

"Yeah. None of us grunts – all of us were pretty upset about losing our jobs. We didn't get any warning beyond some suspicion in the weeks following Midnight's disappearance," Kenneth recollects. "Anyone affiliated with that part of the company is long gone and pretending none of this lab ever existed and the experiments never happened. Speaking out about it doesn't do us any good, we have no proof – catching her wouldn't do any good for us at this point, either."

"Mid, it's over!" I shout, turning to her in excitement.

For a moment, she stares as if I've completely lost my nerve, both concerned and skeptical of my sudden outburst. But those synapses start to fire and connect the dots, and her eyes widen in shock.

"So no one is looking for me anymore?" she gasps.

"No one has been looking for you for months now," Kenneth clarifies. "I think there was a concerted effort the first month, and after that – they made the call to cut their losses and relocate. After that, you were – you don't exist."

"So as long as I don't go shouting to everyone I'm a genetic experiment–"

Kenneth nods, with the first sign of a smile during this exchange. "You're free."