Ch.1 - Witness the Pieces Falling Apart

“Here’s the hospital part of my day.” I groggily said, coughing out the last part of the sentence, the tiniest specs of blood shooting out of my mouth at every attack. As if on cue, a sharp pain erupted from my lip. I placed a finger on the pained area to realize my suspicions. “Fuck, I bit my lip.”

I hate it when things like this happen. It’s one of the disadvantages of freerunning; you always have to be focused on your surroundings to avoid getting hurt… as often. Some other folks have told me that this sport was not for me because I let my mind wander easily. I’m starting to think if they were right about this, than they were probably right about other things in my life.

Now I’m left here, trying to stand up from my failure, weakly and slowly as I did. Fortunately, I was on top of a building so I didn’t have to worry about other people watching. I could handle any sort of physical trauma that the environment and my own stupidity threw at me; surgeries and medication covers most of it while the rest heals on its own. What I can’t handle is the embarrassment, for very obvious reasons.

By the time I had fully stood up the pain in chest had subsided enough to become tolerable. Examining my chest, I looked to see if there was anything serious to worry over. After feeling the rib, in which the pain was originating from, firmly in its place, I deduced it was a dull pain and it can heal on its own. I sighed in relief.

“That’s enough activity for today,” I told myself with more wisdom than before. “it’s time to head home.” I began to look for a wait out of this roof. Perhaps when I get home I can work on fixing my problem with talking to myself. Not that I don’t like it, I like my alone time with my thoughts, but it gets weird after a while.

The first thing I noticed about my current location is that, from the looks of it, I was on top of a warehouse, standing on the center of two other buildings that were considerably larger than the warehouse itself, and the space between them was large enough to fit several giant containers being transported to different stations.

From behind me, I could see ships, carrying the same containers from near the warehouse but in larger quantities, parked by the docks. I heard some yelling from the ship to the docks, ordering them on where and how to put the containers safely on the ship, with the sound of the horns on the background. Cranes were coming to and fro the docks, the metal contractions lifting the boxes onto the rest of its others.

Realization hit me straight across the face as my eyes widened. I have trespassed on a docking site.

How did I get here?I thought as I walked towards the edge, taking note of what's below me. The amount of workers and machinery involved in the process of simply transportation was immense and frightening. Each one of them had a different job to attend to, and they all performed professionally at their doing, letting not a single detail go unnoticed. This promptly popped another question in my mind. How do I get out of here?

Simply jumping out of the roof was out of the question. I would get spotted the second I got off here. The other solution I normally go to in these situations were windows. I saw a few openings on the side of the warehouse but I had nowhere to grab to get there safely and, because I would out in the opening, the risk of detection was too big to follow through.

But then a thought popped into my head, quite possibly the most idiotic one of the day.

Maybe I can use the ventilation system?

I turned towards the air duct in question, slightly taken aback by the state it was in. The previous incident left a misshapen dent on the polished metal, making it seem like a manufacturer mistake rather than an actual accident. The fact that I was able to make such a dent on metal flabbergasted me. I wondered how I was able to make such damage before coming to realize that there were small imprints embedded on the side of the entry. 'Made in China' it said.

When I got closer and took a look inside, I saw it didn’t have any permanent damage; a couple of scratches here and there and a round shape standing out – or, should I say, in - in the duct, a paler contrast compared to the rest of the dusty inside. A simple knock with a hammer ought to clear the dent right up, but that doesn’t help my escape plans.

Peeking through the inside, I saw the first 4 feet of the slide clearly with the help of the sunlight, while the rest of the tunnel got darker and darker until, at the abyss, was entirely coated in darkness. I couldn’t even see the ending, just darkness. Nervousness crept up my spine as I gulped at sight.

I didn’t want to do this. I really didn’t want to do this. I was more than willing to give up my precious right leg so I wouldn’t do this. I have seen plenty of movies to know what the hell is going to happen if I get in one of these. They all end badly, but it was the only way to get out of here and even this was a long shot to success.

Looking behind me a second time, I made sure nobody was around to witness my next stunt. Given the green light, I grabbed the top of the entrance. Taking a deep breath, I readied myself for what was about to happen. Using my arms, I lifted my body so my feet would go feet first onto the ducts.

With a million protests from my mind and body, I descended into the darkness.

<------------------------------->

How did I know this was gonna happen? I wanted to vent my frustrations but I retracted out of fear of the amount of noise I would make.

Right now, I was making my way to the end of the tunnel, which shined a speck of light upon the duct. The tight walls around me turned my crawling into a squirming exercise to see if I could move an inch from where I was, causing my body to tire itself more easily than usual.

Due to the walls compressing me, my clothes were being dragged to my upper torso, leaving my stomach exposed. Every time I went over filters that I suspect were made for air conditioning my body threatened to push the bars past their breaking point, causing the silent approach that my plan consisted of to be thrown out the window - and like I said before, they were none.

To add insult to injury, dust, grime and other dirt-related nonsense filled every single atom of these ducts, filling my vision and sticking to my clothes, not only making it hard to move but it also hard to see where I was going. Combining this with the darkness rendered my task near impossible to finish.

The smell... oh good lord, the smell. I could feel my nostrils closing themselves at every breath I took, my body cringing and shivering greatly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is where the dead bodies are disposed. The sheer putridness was enough to make me hurl in disgust, nearing the point of vomiting. You’d think a company that organized would have half a mind to clean their gutters.

And the worst part?

I was squirming… backwards... facing down. I had to spin my head in a 90 degree angle just so I could see where I was going. I’m a fucking genius. I thought sarcastically, aggravated by the mess I put myself in. I wanted to get out of this place alive, not pissed off and covered in shit.

Having had enough of the ventilation, I stopped near one of the filters – and when I say ‘stop near’ I mean squirm over as I sensed it slicing through the epidermis of my skin – and used my right arm to push it down from its holding place, ever strengthening the grip until it broke. Hearing the screws hitting the ground was like music to my ears. Placing the metal bars on the inside of the vent, I gingerly and slowly headed down. The sudden scent of cardboard overcame my nasal cavities, a relatively nice change from the previous.

As more of my body exited the tunnel, the less strain it took to get out. When my legs were the only part left in the ducts I grabbed the two edges to not let my body splay on the floor. Once my feet made contact with the ground I let go of my grip.

Trying my hardest to wipe the gunk off my clothes I was able to remove enough dirt to make me comfortable in the attire, but it was still enough to infuriate me. Shaking my head disquietly, I turned to the inside of the warehouse.

Unlike the outside, the machinery in this part was mostly composed of forklifts, carrying shipments of boxes, big and small, all throughout the warehouse. The main difference was, while it may look like something normal for these men, it looked completely haphazard to me. The way that they picked up the boxes only to put them down again, how the forklifts left the storage space and came back in again, supervisors yelling out orders at every second. For me, it was a mess, but it seemed like they knew what they were doing.

Organized chaos I suppose.

After reminding myself that I was a trespasser and not a tourist, I hastily walked to the nearest exit on the right side of the building. Coming to a set of stairs, I looked down to see if anyone was near. Meeting no one in my line of sight, I ran the whole way down; all precautions I set were replaced by the thought of safety in my home.

I loved when things like this happened. Accomplishing events that other people thought to be impossible always gave me a sense of wonder.

The door was right there, in front of me, the excitement of seeing the exit caused me to speed up my walk, turning it into a sort of power walk. With the biggest grin in my face, I reached out, my hopes growing as I touched the doorknob to escape the scene. Just one more pull and I was out.

But my desire became despair as I felt a hand tug of my hoodie, yanking me away from the door. I was actually close to tearing up when I focused my attention on the culprit; one of the workers must have heard my footsteps when I came down because here he was, gazing angrily through the small line of sight left from his headgear at my now exposed and anxious face.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, authority ruling his rough demeanor, his muscular built ensuring that I wouldn’t leave his hand-lock so easily. This did not help me calm down as I shook slightly in his grip, frightened for my life. I tried to find the right words to answer his inquiry, but only shaky breaths were heard leaving my mouth. “Who are you?”

When I finally managed to find the words, all I could say were stutters and stammers. This further angered the man in yellow. “Don’t play dumb with me, it never works.” He said in fatigued fashion as he turned to make his way elsewhere, possibly to his manager’s office, with me still shaking in his grip, trying to think of a new way to lose him. ”You’ve got some nerve coming here; thinking you can trick me, of all people into-“

I… honestly can’t tell you what happened next in a better way than this. A ball of glass suddenly appeared above his head, a cloud of smoke surrounding it, making it look like it wasn’t there a minute ago. When the smoke dissipated, the ball crashed on the unsuspecting bulky man’s head, causing him to go wall-eyed before falling over unconscious.

The ball – which, at closer detail, was contrived of crystal – remained intact, like it had never been touched by anything since its crafting. It rolled out from near the man’s head onto my feet. Staring intently and with abnormal curiosity, I bent down to pick up the foreign object.

As I held it close to me, I noticed my reflection; apparently, my bitten lip was worse than I was expecting. It ran across my lip to where the stubble would be. Luckily it wasn’t bleeding. Just as I picked it up, the orb started forming black smoke around itself, my hands including. It disappeared just as I let go of it, startled.

By this time, all of my panicked nature had ceased to continue, only to be left in a state of shock, not even considering the fact that the magical ball just saved me. It formed too many question in my mind, one of which I don’t think it could be answered with basic logic. What was that all about?

My attention was then diverted to the figure laid motionless on the floor. The only evidence to him being alive was his chest movements. According to the bump on his forehead, I’d say the ball must have hit him hard. “I hope he doesn’t have a concussion,” I whispered to myself as I picked him up and dragged him to the staircase.

But as I did so, I glanced at his clothing, noting especially the yellow helmet and jacket, and I got an idea. I mentally grimaced. “Big guy, what size do you wear?” I asked nobody in particular.

<------------------------------->

The pony sighed, filling out the last line of crimson salt for the summoning circle, the upside down star now complete. With careful detail, he made sure not a single grain of salt was out of place or amiss, lest he wished for another failure. With a few corrections here and there, he back stepped to admire his work.

A smirk ran on his lips. Much like his other basement experiments, it was nothing more than successful, and the stallion had to take pride in this constant achievement. The gleam in his eyes turned shady as the memories that any sane being would think despicable got a cackle out of the stallion.

The rain poured out from outside, leaving large drops on the only window of the division. Thankfully, the pony loved a rainy day so it didn’t bother him in his labor. In fact, it served as fuel for his deteriorating sanity to find quiet in the most unusual of times.

His gleam got darker with this.

The pony then moved on to the following item on his mental list; two small, ancient-looking green jars stuck in mid-air, each one with a cork on the entrance, preventing whatever was inside to leave. They were held up by another four dark tentacles emanating with malice. The pony walked to the first jar, jolting to life, the restraints on it becoming stronger as the jar attempted indignantly to escape the tentacles grasp, but to no avail.

With his pure white hoof, he cast an enchantment on the fearful object. Miniscule, centipede-like magic burst from his hoof onto the jar, entering through the tiniest cracks of the cork. Moments passed before the object surrender to its creatures, the convulsions stopping altogether.

The stallion reached for it, lifting a faded blue leg towards the jar. When he wrapped a hoof securely around the handle, he stomped his right hoof on the floor causing the black tendrils to dissolve, letting the stallion be free with the jar.

Unscrewing the cork, the stallion prepared himself for the onslaught of tortured cries that followed. He was met with only one sentence, one single question that he was never expecting.

“What did I do wrong?”

The stallion stared, dumbstruck at the words, his grin now a frown. This is the first time anypony has ever shown self guilt for something somepony else has done, and he could’ve sworn he heard this voice before. However, his contemplation didn’t last long as the aroma of the subject from the jar caused the stallion to giggle, and he beamed at the jar. “Souls tickle.” He said, disregarding the voice that spoke out his sadness.

Strapping the cork back in, the pony did the same procedure with the last jar - though the cries were more violent – and carried both to the front of the circle. The one holding the ‘softer’ soul was placed directly in front of the circle while the other one, holding the screamer, was placed further away from them.

“Now,” The stallion stomped his white hoof once more, the eight tendrils fetching the next item in the far corner of the room. “the body” As he announced, a rusty cage moved onto his vision, the contents of it also being heard in the far end.

As it got nearer, the subject in question was in full view; a dirt riddled human could be seen, thrashing about and scratching the cage, trying his hardest to accomplish freedom, but his bloody fingertips showed that the cage did more damage to him than he did to the cage. The hair integrated in all his body parts and the skin hugging his bones suggested that this one either had no owner or was poorly treated by its handler. Whether the former or latter, the stallion did not intend to solve. All he did was leave the human in his screeching mess.

The stallion finally removed his drags with a single swift motion of the hoof. His features were now completely visible. Pure white wrapped around his right leg entirely, making it look like it was transplanted from a ghost, but it left the rest of his anatomy with its original hue; faded blue.

Instead of a cutie mark, his flanks were adorned with imprints of the same black tendrils, running from his tail to both legs of his hindquarters. In the center of the imprints was a large red eye with a serpentine iris, staring down at anypony of anything that came into its horizon. From a different perspective, the pony looked more like darkness than man itself.

His mane and tail were both kept in a long and unkempt fashion, bangs visible just above his brows, allowing every lock to flow freely, to create the impression of the stallion’s mindlessness towards his looks. Dark brown was the color that ran by his mane and tail, with a lonesome black streak that seemed to continue its route from the end of the mane to the tail.

The stallion entered the summoning ring, sitting on his hindquarters in the middle. He took one last look at the being I front of me, not giving up his attempts and furthering the tears in his body.

“Body,” he said, announcing the requirement necessary for the upcoming spell.

He then looked at the two jars in a straight line, the ones keeping the individuals’ remains. “Soul,”

He lifted a foreleg to the side of his head and knocked on it, the smirk not fading in the least. “Mind,”

After doing so, he reached the same foreleg to spawn the crystal ball that he saved from breaking due to Ahuizotl’s carelessness. With a flick of the hoof, he made it show the human that they had haggled for. “And last but not least,” he placed the ball on the ground next to him. “the subject.”

With yet another stomp on the floor, a capsule formed around all the items that the pony had gathered. The human had halted in his actions when he noticed the dust and oddity-filled room around him was now turning into darkness. Confused and tired, the mindless creature turned to, unbeknownst to him, the one responsible for this.

“Now,” the stallion lifted his hoof, magically opening the jars and letting the spirits fly at his whim. “for the extraction.” Pointing his hoof at the trapped human, the souls followed suit as they invaded the human’s body, controlling him to do the pony’s biding.

If the poor human had the ability to remember, the thing he would have seen were the duo-colored eyes of his captor, his devilish grin and the spirits of the ones that used to be.

Author's Note

I know what you're thinking; 'Why isn't he in Equestria yet?' or something of the sort. Well, the thing is, I thought that writing a chapter entirely on what happens to him to get to Equestria would drive the readers to boredom, and I don't want that. So him in Equestria is going to happen at probably chapter 2 or 3. Let's just count this one as a character development chapter, can we?

Also, anyone else notice Sebastian going Rarity for a moment?