Prologue: Chapter One
The night is cold and the gusts rattle at my windows like a caged animal trying to free itself. Luckily for me, I am sitting in my nice warm chair, protected by the walls of my home from the dangerous winter outside. It's been quite a while since I have experienced the feeling of being cold. Cold. It has been so long the word is now nearing extinction, but the feeling in it has now renewed itself fully, even taking out loans in the process. The heater seems about to explode from how hard it runs, and has been for the past two weeks, or at least however long this storm has been going on for.
The only noises in my old, empty house is from my ancient record player. I run it almost as much as my heater, and I hope that it too doesn't go out soon. Old pieces of my previous recorded works, along with many others I had composed with companions are the only ones I have, but I don't mind. But it does saddens me at the thought of how beautifully I could play back then, before the incident. It had been so long since I had a bow and strings in my hooves that the skill had been released from my mind. I try to keep making mental notes about learning again, but first I have to find an instrument to play on. It's not the money that is the problem, it's about the mental barriers that are stopping me. I do admit, I have no motivation to do much anymore, and the thought of picking up a cello and try to start learning again brings me almost to tears whenever I think about it. I don't even know why.
The house is once again quiet now, as the record player has run it's last round, and is awaiting me to wind it up again. I debate myself whether I should abandon my warm spot in my living room just to go wind up the memories again, or just let the wind on the windows put me to sleep.
I decide to stay where I am, until there is a slight flash of light on the wall, coming from the driveway. I have no choice now but to get up. The thought of actually having a visitor motivates me out of my drowsy state to come and eagerly greet them as long as they weren't another news crew or the paperazi. I quickly change out of my sweatpants and into something a little nicer, then trot to the entrance where I await the knock on the door, but it never comes. Instead there is a loud crash in the back of the house, then another right in front of me. My doors have been kicked down.
I don't even know what is going on, but I take a step back and stare back at the stallion pointing a rifle at my head, then followed by another from the back. I have no choice but to throw my hooves up in the air, which makes the stallion jump back, and the one in back of me tackles me to the ground. I am quickly put into a set of hoofcuffs, and stood back up by force.
“Are you Octavia Philharmonica?” the stallion shouts into my face as he shines his flashlight into my eyes. I flinch from the direct beam, which only makes the stallion grip me tighter. I'm in so much pain from the hit it took which probably dislocated my shoulder that I forget to even answer.
“I SAID IS YOUR NAME OCTAVIA PHILHARMONICA?!” he yells again. This time taking a step closer towards me, amplifying the beam of light shining in my eyes.
I now come out of my fog of reality and realize what is actually happening, and I am put in total shock. All I can now do is stand there with my eyes wide open, not saying a word. I can't. My jaw won't move.
My interrogator turns off his flashlight and steps even closer.
“Answer me. Is your name Octavia Philharmonica?” he asks in a slightly gentler manner.
“Yes,” is all I can say.
“You are coming with me. Shield, put her in the back of the van. Keep close watch on her. If she moves, restrain her and don't be afraid to put a bullet in her head.
“Bullet in my head?! What are you ponies talking about?!” I ask urgently. Pulling away from the stallion behind me, only to be pulled tighter and have my face pushed into my hallway wall, and then jerked outside into the freezing cold again.
“Don't you think we don't know all about your plans to destroy Equestria,” he says into my ear as he pulls me on two hooves down my walkway and into my driveway where three S.W.A.T transport vans are idling.
“Search the entire house for any evidence! Anything related to nuclear weapons will be documented and used to find the case!” I can her my interrogator yell behind me inside my house to the rest of the stallions that entered my home while I was held against my will.
“What?! Nuclear weapons? Are you insane? You think that I would be in possession of nuclear weapons? I don’t know what is wr-” I attempt to say to the stallion pinning my hooves behind my back, but he cuts me off before I can get the rest out.
“Shut the hell up before I put a bullet in your brain,” he hisses back to me before he throws me up against the side of a van where he conducts a full body search on me. He reaches down towards my flank and I whip around, immediately regretting my reflex of protecting my dignity when he jabs me with a taser. He sends a few thousand volts of electricity right into my left hind leg and I fall to the ground limp, and almost as soon as I go down, he yanks me back up and gets right up in my face.
“You try anything like that again, and I will follow orders. Don't think just because you're a pretty missy that I wont hurt you,” he says.
I hold back the urge to bend down and slap the colt, but even though I don't know what is going on, they are still settled on the fact that I am some kind of terrorist.
After the brief search, I am then shuffled into the back of the second van of the convoy and chained by all four hooves to the bench I am sitting on. Three armed guards get in and sit on my left, right, and directly in front of me with their blast masks down. Wouldn't want to get hurt by a confused and unarmed mare now would they? One of the stallions then shuts the two heavy doors to the back of the van, locking me in. The van then pulls out of the driveway and speeds down the country road through the ice and snow towards whatever destination they wish to take me.
And all I can wonder is why in the world I am being convicted of nuclear WMD possession.
Breaking Point: Chapter 2
“Don't give me this bullshit!” my interrogator yells.
I don't know what he is even talking about. Nuclear weapons of mass destruction? In my possession? I don't know where they came up with this idea. I have never worked with any weapons, let alone nuclear, in my entire life! I'm a cello player for Celestia's sake!! Now they have me strapped to a metal chair in a room with nothing but a table, my interrogator, and a one-way mirror, with the wrong pony as it's host.
“You don't understand! I had nothing to do with this! I haven't even been around anywhere were I have these things at my disposal! Check my records! I have been missing for over three years!” I plead to the stallion in the black suit, but to no avail. I'm not even sure he is listening to me, but I don't care. I will do whatever it takes to get me out of this place, because I have no reason to be here.
“Who helped you with this? Huh?! You think this is some kind of sick game?!” he yells at me, spraying spit into my face. I am quick to wipe it off, but as I do, my eyes turn even more wet.
“I don't know what I have done wrong! Test me or something! I am telling the absolute truth!” I yell back, breaking down from all the stress. Soon enough there are tears running down my cheeks.
“This isn't working!” he shouts to the one-way mirror. “We have to find another member of the operation or something...” he says
I can hear the voices in his earpiece asking him questions, but they are not audible for me to hear.
“No, I'm not... Of course... Yes... I'm trying... Okay, I'll try it.” he says back into his earpiece. He walks around the small white room for a few minutes, trying to configure his thoughts while I do the same, until he finally breaks the silence.
“Where have you been for the past three years?” he quietly asks me as he nears the table. I look back at him in almost disgust that he would even bring up the subject. But he doesn't know. Nobody knows except me, and the people I was with.
“The Island,” I reply.
“Which one? Where? What island are you talking about?” he says back to me. He walks closer to me and the steel table and pulls out the chair to sit in it, but stops right before he does.
“I don't even know. All I know is it was very harsh and drove me to almost complete insanity,” I say to him. All I receive is a questioning look from him.
“And that's what drove you to create this entire plot up? Your supposed insanity? Why do I not believe you one bit?” he says back to me, slamming the chair back under the table. My back aches from sitting in this odd and restrained state, and I can't move my body. I suck up the burn and hold my head up again.
“No, you don't get it. I never had anything to do with whatever 'operation' that you are convicting me of,” I say to him. He then takes another few strides around the room before ending up right back in front of me and the table. At first I feel it's me that he is staring so deeply at, so I slump back as much as my restraints will let me, but then I hear the voice from his earpiece again, but this time I can hear what it is saying now, as he is so close.
“Ask her about what happened at the island. Maybe we can get some information about the weapons,” it says.
He responds in a positive manner to it like I can't hear what they are saying. He then puts both front hooves on the table and asks me the one question.
“What happened at the island? How did you get there? Start from the beginning,” he says to me.
Manehattan International Airport- 6:00 a.m.
I stand in line for my morning coffee as I usually do in the morning, but instead at being at one of the local Starbits, I'm stuck with the generic shops they have around here
“Next!” the cashier calls. She looks around until she sees me. “How may I help you ma'am?” she asks in a very polite manner.
“One large black coffee,” I respond to her, I reach over to my side to retrieve my purse when all the sudden a white mare runs into me with what seems to be at full speed. We both fall to the floor in a tumble, then she immediately jumps right back up and leaves with something like a bag in her mouth.
“Hey! Watch where you're going!” I yell back after her shortly after picking myself back up off the ground.
“Sorry,” I say back to the cashier, reaching back into my saddlebag for my purse, only it's not there.
“Huh? What happened to my purse?” I ask myself out loud, then I remember the bag that the rude mare had in her mouth. It was my purse. I take off after her general direction, not paying any attention to all the luggage I left behind at the counter, because if I didn't get my I.D. back, I wouldn't get to leave Manehattan at all.
I push through the crowds of people, receiving many curses and ugly looks from them as well. Then I see the electric blue mane of the mare that tackled me earlier, and I turn my speed up to a full sprint. Just when I am about to grab hold of her tail, I am swept off my feet by a lost bag dropped by some clumsy filly, and I awkwardly come crashing to the hard floor right behind it.
The mother of the filly trots over and grabs the loose bag, giving me a dirty look in the process.
“You should watch where you are going next time,” she tells me. She then trots away like im some kind of bum on the side of the road.
I look back up to where the mare ran off to, but she is long gone by now. I have even spelled the contents of my back all around me in my fall, or at least what is left of it that that mare didn't steal.
I pick my belongings back up and walk back to the small coffee shop where the rest of my things lay. They might take my old college card as an I.D., if I'm lucky. The cashier looks back at me as I walk back up to the counter to tell her I can't pay for the drink, but she is looking at me with a pitiful smile on her face.
“Did you catch her?” she asks me.
“Almost, but not quite. I don't have any other cash on me, so I can't pay for the drink. I am sorry,” I tell her.
I look like a train wreck now. My mane is in tangles and my coat is out of order, luckily I always carry a comb around in my purse.
“Gaah! Will I ever get a break?!” I yell. I put my saddlebag back on upright and grab my suitcase with my mouth and begin to push it away from the register.
“Hey! The coffee is on me today. I hope you find your purse,” she says after me, trotting around the counter with the coffee in her magic field.
“Thank you so much. At least I know somepony has a heart,” I say back to her graciously as she hands me my well deserved energy supliment.
“No problem. I just hope nopony you knew saw you take that fall over there,” she giggles.
The overcom then makes a small beeping and a voice comes over it. “Flight 470, please report to dock 2B for boarding. Thank you,” it says. I guzzle down the coffee quickly right in front of the cashier.
“I take it that is your flight?” she asks as she turns around back behind the cash register
“Yes ma'am,” I reply, turning to a quick trot over to the boarding dock. I make my way over to the boarding dock where about a thousand other ponies are patiently waiting in line for the gate to open. I file my way into the line when the mare opens the gate and we start shuffling through the short doorway.
I toss my empty cup into the trash can right before I enter, and then I'm back in the crowd again.
They waive me through, taking my college I.D. As legal identification, and I go on through. As always on international flights, the plane is huge enough to fit all the other ponies with room to spare, and luckily I am set next to another pony with some class. The last three flights I was on there were always trashy ponies with crying newborns that almost made me sick. I spin around to put my bags in the overhead compartment, and that is when I see her. The white, electric maned pony that stole my purse is right across from me.
