Prologue: Darkness Eternal
Let me tell you this: there is no such thing as redemption. All events you play, all the sins of your past, will return to haunt you, like the spirits of the dead in some desperate need to seek out vengeance upon those who harmed them. One wrong doesn't justify another, but that never stopped it from happening. Not a day goes by where I don't regret the atrocity that has come to dominate my life.
I'd give anything, even the life I live now, however great, to undo what I did that day. I can still feel the pain he felt, as if it were my own. I would bring him back, if there was any way. I...miss him. Not in a romantic way, but like brothers, forever friends, loyal to the end. If only I had seen what he truly meant. I'd do anything...but there is no bringing him back.
How ironic, that the man I had wronged should suffer for my errs, while I live on in a world where even the best times on Earth seems dry and dull... I'd give it all away to see that smiling face, one last time. But life's a bitch. She doesn't always grant us that mercy...I suppose that it's time for me to tell you the truth. I can't hide it forever, and it pains me to no end to tell no one.
I was around 6'3" tall, a fair amount even in southern California. I weighed in at around two-fifty, but not from obesity. I had dark hair and dark, brooding eyes. I kept my hair short and neat, and had a well trimmed beard and stache on my chin and above my lip. For some reason, keeping myself neat truly appealed. Since I tended to focus on wearing dark, bad ass clothes, I needed to compensate somehow. I probably looked better in a business suite, to be honest.
I strode erratically down Calhoun street, eager to arrive at USC in time for Philosophy 141. I still wondered why I chose Philosophy as my major. I suppose it helped ease the pains from my past. I needed to see what life really meant, why it mattered to even try. The Professions and the Public Interests of American Life was not the best solution, but there isn't a single major where we always take classes that we enjoy.
I continued to wind my way down the street, fiddling the 1911 I carried hidden in my jacket. It was late November, and the leaves blew slowly down the stretch of the road, gray clouds lying overhead. I knew that I wasn't old enough to own a handgun, but walking around the neighborhoods in these parts unarmed could almost be equated to a death wish. My black leather jacket and dark features didn't intimidate those around me, especially those that hunted in packs.
There was this tendency to recount the specs of my little toy, over and over. It somehow kept me calm, despite the turmoil that had become my life. I still remembered when my parents died. When this thought would arise, I would simply counter it with some more specs, and other little trivia that didn't really matter.
.45 ACP, seven rounds magazine, hollow points. 2.44 pounds, 8.25 inches long. Two to the chest, one to the thigh. Two to the chest, one to the head. .45 ACP, seven rounds magazine...
I always seemed to be muttering to myself as I walked to class, so people would generally leave me alone. While I carried the gun in case, I'd never had to use it. I often worried that I would...
At times, my thoughts would clear up, and wander to other things. How to improve my physic. How to complete indefinite integrals mentally. Other such mundane ideas to keep my thoughts from returning to what had transpired with my parents, only a few short years ago. To remember watching them...die. The thought still stung, even after three years of foster care to settle them. Now I was finally an adult. I was completing my first term in a full fledged university, afforded almost entirely off of the merit I had achieved.
I had immersed myself into several goals, hoping to learn to cope. It didn't help much, but I survived. I had learned everything I could, from math to language, to philosophy. I learned everything I could, focused on my strength of body and mind. I figured that if I didn't look to long upon my past, it wouldn't return.
The sun was nearing its apogee when I reached the juncture between Bull and Lady. I always took a little side trip to hide my firearm, since carrying them on campus was strictly prohibited. For that matter, my possessing one at nineteen was illegal. As well as carrying one concealed without a permit, and loading it with hollow points. Not that I exactly gave a shit, but still.
After it was reasonably concealed, I finished the hike to my university. Somewhere along the trip, I decided to look around for clubs. I mean, come on! I had become a loner. Well, there was always after class. As usual, I planted my face into the textbook when we weren't caught up in a lecture. A nasty habit, but that didn't matter. Try as I might, I couldn't get my mind off of the prospect of joining a group. For the first time in months, I felt somewhat...happy.
Once the professor finished his rambles, I practically flew out of the classroom. This really surprised a few of the people that noticed, since I didn't normally rush about anything. The halls dashed by as I skirted the corners, until I reached the golden egg. The wall was spammed with posters, all regarding self-promotion from various clubs and activities. I decided to choose the first one that I saw.
"The Brony Brotherhood?" I asked aloud. "What's that?"
I decided to try it anyway, given my lack of experience. The time wasn't for another three hours, so I could simply kill the time in the gym. I hit the weights like some sort of demigod, seeking to tone my already massive biceps, and focus some on my abdominals. Ah, the simple joy of hard, honest work. After quite some time, I noticed that the meeting was nearing, so I hopped off of the treadmill I'd been using.
This is going to be great! Lots of people with nothing better to do, with a weird name for their club!
To be honest, I was ecstatic. I hadn't joined a club since early high school, before...I cut that line of thought at the butt. Only the now mattered. I eventually reached the classroom that they were going to be meeting in. Something on the second floor, thus the 200 series number. In fact, it was 211. I waltzed in as if nothing was the matter. Several young men my age and a single, lonely girl were already seated, and some guy with a weird moustache stood in front of them.
"Well hello," Moustachio said to me. "I'm glad we have someone new to join our little herd. It's getting kinda lonely around here."
"Herd?" I asked, voicing what I was wondering in a confused sort of way. "What do you mean, herd?"
"You're not a brony?" He seemed kinda amused by this, oddly enough. His pale, blue eyes seemed to light up with some kind of ingrown fire. "You hear that, everypony?! It's time to get this guy to ASSIMILATE WITH THE HERD!!"
The last bit was said in unison. I had this deep seated fear that I had somehow gotten myself into something I didn't want to know. I had no idea.
"Okay, um...what's your name?"
"Uh...Jonathan Cain."
"Well, Jon, you can find out everything in just a moment. Season two ended, so we will start this meeting by showing the first two episodes of season one!"
There was a widespread cheer from everyone present. I decided to take stock of who all was there. Five...six...seven...eight of these "bronies" dotted the room. I could see why they needed another member in their, as close as I could tell, cult. It was strange, some of them were wearing shirts with...ponies?
I didn't have time to consider before Moustachio slapped me into a front row desk. He then proceeded to hit the play button almost aggressively. Behind me, I heard someone mutter to another, "Is this guy a Fluttershy? He seems kinda quiet."
The show began before I had time to think about that last bit. I felt as if I had somehow landed on Mars. Were they just pranking me?! There were ponies floating all over the screen, left, right, center, upside down... I hadn't felt this weird since I'd tried out that phencyclidine shit a few years ago. PCP didn't settle well with me, and neither did this. I began to wonder if they were just trolling me, but I soon discovered otherwise.
These people legitimately loved this "my little pony" shit, as if they lived off of it! There were some pretty damn crazy things I'd done before, but this was just bizarre. I started to visibly sweat by the time the second episode was completed, and wished to be anywhere but there. Desperately.
And those bastards actually looked at me expectantly, almost hungrily, as if I was some kind of food for them to feast on!! I had to hold back my temper and think of the best way to avert this really nasty little dilemma I had been thrown into. I was really sweating profusely by this point.
Just think, damn you, think! Try not to be rude or crass, just blunt. Be a bro, but not a brony!
"So...what do ya think?!" Moustachio asked in a very similar fashion to that Pinkie...Poo gal. I just had trouble resisting the urge to scream "IT SUCKED!", but kept my cool.
"Well, it's not particularly bad, I can see why you enjoyed it. It's just..."
"It's just what?"
"Not my...kind of thing. I kinda enjoyed it, but that's all I'll ever really...need."
"What was that?" he asked, looking kinda downtrodden by my reply. So did everyone else. But I stayed steadfast, preferring honesty to subterfuge. I wouldn't follow a...cult...just to make them feel better about themselves. That's just dishonest, which I wasn't.
"I'm sorry, I need to be going." I left without another word, and they didn't force me to stay, either. Somehow, I felt kinda sorry for these guys (and girl), they weren't bad people. But this definitely was not my cup of tea. It just wasn't. I headed down the hall, out of sight and out of mind, to mull this over. When I looked over my shoulder, this curly blonde haired guy was looking out of the room after me, a look of true concern on his face.
I walked slowly from my English course. It's truly grueling, trying to take notes on a lecture for two and a half hours straight. Just the kind of misery I deserved. It had been three days since that Monday afternoon, and I had taken notice that the blonde brony was that same guy that I sat diagonal to in my English class. Funny, how easy it was to loose track of everyone in an eighty student lecture hall. At least it wasn't as bad as the Philosophy course, there were more than two hundred in there. Truly a far cry from the thirty max I was used to.
I peered over my shoulder, and noticed the other guy catching up. I didn't know why he was bothering to do that, but I decided to be somewhat tolerant, despite his...condition.
"Hey, wait!" he cried out. "I just wanna talk!"
Great, this is all I need. Someone, please shoot me. Right in the back of the head, near where the spine joins the neck to the head would be nice.
"What?" I say, determined not to be a complete asshat just because he liked something I didn't. I found it hard to do. Very, VERY hard. But still, difficulties arise, face them with a raised chin.
"I was just wondering, why didn't you like the show?"
Oh great, hear it goes...
"Just not my slice of cake, if you catch my drift," I replied, attempting to maintain an amiable expression. God, this was difficult. "Do you do anything but watch ponies?" I decided to change the subject, hoping he'd listen.
"I study, attend class, major in English, and write fanfics." He smiled at that last bit. "That's about it."
"What do you write fanfics about?" I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips, it was too late. He seemed to brighten up like I had just informed him that Christmas had arrived.
"My Little Pony fics, duh! I write on Fimfic, under the alias-"
"Look, dude, I hate to be rude, but I'll be frank with you. I hate that fucking show. It grinds my nerves like a good hooker grinds your cock in a private lap dance. So buzz off!" It sounded a lot harsher, but recalling the words was about as likely as getting a Lawyer to work honestly. Somethings just can't happen.
He seemed heartbroken, like I'd just slammed his best friend over the head with a sledgehammer, struck him in the balls, and kicked his baby in the throat. Yet he persevered. I was almost taken aback by this skinny little blonde's ability to stick with it. That still wasn't going to make me give in. I legitimately hated the show, and he wasn't helping.
"Look, I'm sorry I was being such a dick, but I really don't like it. Can you talk about anything else?"
"Okay. My name is Stephan Johnson. And yours?"
"Uh...Jonathan Cain, remember?"
"Oh yeah. Well, we talked about something else! Now back to the subject, I know you had a bad start. I didn't like it at first, either. Just try it again. It really changes your outlook on life-"
"Just shut up."
"What happened to love and tolerate?"
I was a little surprised at the reply. "What?"
"It means don't judge a book by its cover, nor a person for liking things you don't."
"That's a good saying," I said. "Why don't you try it out. I don't like your show, so tolerate my opinion and drop it. Now."
"I will, once you watch a few more. Just a few. Maybe lesson zero, and the bridle gossip one. Also Luna eclipsed."
"Just...can it. Please!"
"Once you watch them!"
Somehow, I knew this was going to take a long, long time. I sighed.
Lord, if you exist, please shut this shitheap up for me, will you?
Somehow I knew that wasn't likely. I decided to drone out that blathering windbag while I still could. This was going to be one helluva long day.
Three weeks had passed, and it was the week before finals. Steve had followed me around all the time, seeming unperturbed by my growing hatred for the little guy. He wasn't extraordinary in any sort of way, and the blue eyes helped to convey his sense euphoria every time he talked about anything mlp based. It was somehow as if he had decided that I was his friend, or something!
I had spent the last three weeks begging every god known to man to just get the little ape off my back! I mean, seriously?! Couldn't he take a hint? Wait, nix that. I'd told him directly at least thirty times. He even began to wait for me at the front of the school. Now I was having to keep the gun tucked away on my person so that he wouldn't see it. I was glad that nobody had noticed.
He had even taken a day to pretend that he was dropping it, and I invited him to lunch. I was relieved to hear some quiet. No, forget that. I was totally excited! We hung out for a while, talked about other stuff, like music and stuff, and I even bought him some grub at the school food place. It was all going great, and I was beginning to actually like the guy, when the worst happened. When we were leaving I commented, "Dude, you're actually pretty cool. We should do that again sometime!"
"It's all chill, bro. Sure, we can hang out," he said, and then proceeded to hold out his fist in that traditional fist-bump manner. Of course, I bumped right it right back. Then he destroyed me with one word, which I had already learned all too well.
"Brohoof!"
I deadpanned, and then grew steaming mad. "Why can't you drop it?! Gah!! Forget what I said, you're such a troll and a dick! Fuck off!!" He just smiled insolently at me, and I had to resist the urge to sock him in the guts.
Days passed by in a blur, and they were all riddled with this guys crazy antics. I learned pretty much everything there was to know about mlp, canon and fanbased, just from his ranting alone! I was beginning to despise this guy.
One day, he picked up worse than normal.
We were on our way home. Well, I was on my way home, and he was following me. This time, he decided to play a new tact. We had just rounded the corner off of a main byway, and into a dusty old alleyway on the way to my house. Garbage littered the narrow street around us.
He tugged my arm and asked, "Bro, can you stop ignoring me? I just want to-"
"To what?!" I yelled. "Run around watching dumbass shows made for little girls like the little bitch you are?! FUCK NO!!"
He backed up for a moment, before replying, "I just want you to watch it."
"Well I'm not! There!"
"Jon, you didn't have a problem with me when I wasn't talking about it. Why do you hate me for watching a show, just because-"
"That's not why I hate you! I already knew you watched it, but didn't care when you weren't TALKING ABOUT IT INCESSANTLY!!! But you're just going to gripe about it on and on!"
"But-"
"But what? You think that I want to be a little FAGGIT like you?"
"I'm not-"
"You're just a little asswhipe who runs around watching shows made for five-year-old girls. You're pathetic!"
"Please, just-"
"Shut up already!"
I proceeded to turn around quickly. I was barely resisting the urge to cry right there. I felt this horrible feeling in my chest, as if it were about to collapse around me. There was barely anything left. I didn't turn back around when I talked more quietly to Steve.
"Why is it that you want me to watch this show, of light and happiness, when everything in my life so far has been shit. Why? I've watched my parents die, my brother committed suicide, and I was thrown from one nasty foster home to another, like some piece of worthless garbage. I had nothing left in me. I...I just wish that they were still here."
Tears were flowing freely down my face by then, and there was no way for me to stop them. But I continued.
"I've waited all these years for peace, but only had more crap thrown on my table. And then here you are, with your cush life and easy days, and you expect me to watch your show." By then my voice was growing hurt, bitter. "How dare you treat me like this. I just want to be left alone, but no! You've got to go around following me EVERYWHERE!!"
"I underst-"
"Just go."
"No real-"
I wheeled on him, suddenly drawing the Colt from my jacket without even thinking. "Get the hell away from me!"
"Jon, this isn't-"
"GO NOW!!"
"You need-"
"DAMN YOU!!" Time seemed to slow down as my finger squeezed the trigger, as the casing flew from the pistol. BAAM!! I could still see the look of shock on Steve's face as the round blew through him. I would remember that look until the day I died. He dropped to his knees, a that same stunned look on his face. He slowly let out a few ragged breaths, and looked up from the fingers he had stuck into the hole at the base of his ribs.
The look on the face of the curly haired guy transformed from one of shock to one of sorrow and hurt. It screamed the question 'why' louder than an auctioneer with a megaphone. He just stared at me for a few moments before I pulled the trigger. Again, and again. BAAM!! BAAM!! BAAM!!
My arm was visibly shaking, by the time the third round was shot, and it missed my desired target. Instead of striking his face, it plunked into his throat, and blood started spraying everywhere. I strode up to him, seeing the three gaping holes where the hollow points had punched through his body, and could see the blood flowing from the fourth on his neck.
BAAM!! BAAM!! BAAM!! *click*
The sounds of the gunshots reverberated off of the walls, echoing like some sick, demented form of laughter. I could no longer see Steve's face, only the gory slop that I had turned it into. Hollow points were notorious for that. I was still in shock from my actions, and hid the gun in my jacket. I walked away as if nothing had ever happened.
It was Christmas vacation, and I still hadn't been caught. I had attained the 1911 illegally, so it wasn't registered. Neither were the rounds, and I had worn gloves when placing the cartridges into the magazine. The search was quickly forgotten, given the level of crimes around this part of the city, anyway. It was almost ironic, how easily I had gotten away with it.
Spent nearly every night haunted by dreams of his face rising up before me and asking one question. That one single question it had asked him since the event itself.
Why?
It was so strange, the way that things had gone, just so suddenly. I felt strangely alone after all those weeks spent hounded by Steve. The form of our parting only heightened the loneliness that I myself had created. At least no one was going to judge me.
I walked over to Santa Monica State Beach to think things over. I had often come here when I really needed a break from all the turmoil that had become a part of my life. The boardwalk made a great place to walk, and gaze out into the sea. It was hazy that day, and there was nobody about. Besides, it was winter.
Why? Why did I do it? What did he do to me? Sure, he was annoying...but that doesn't make MURDER right!
I stared out to the sea, as if begging it for an answer. None came, of course. And none ever would. I continued to stare out at it, for a long, hard moment. Then I fell to my knees.
"I'M SORRY!!" I bawled, my entire facade blown away in the twinkling of an eye. I wept openly now, not caring that I was in public. I just wept, and wept, and wept.
Why...why...why...why...why...why...why......
The same word raged in my head unceasingly. There was no way to undo what I had done, no hope that it would ever change. And I knew it. All that was left was the knowledge that I had committed a true atrocity, and travesty that was unwarranted and unnecessary. There would be no forgiveness. I knew I could go to church, try and find God. But what would he want with me, anyways? There was only one place for me.
I slowly stood up, and pulled the handgun from my jacket. I had grown fond of the dark gray metal that encased the barrel and chamber. The feel, the weight, the wear were all very familiar to me. I cocked the weapon, and place it against my head...then hesitated. Should I? I squeezed the trigger...
*click*
I sighed, dejectedly. Fate hated me, and I understood that. I looked down at the familiar tool in my hands. This device had been my instrument of destruction, a means to end the life of someone who didn't deserve it. I looked out into the sea, and through the Colt as far as I could. I wouldn't die the coward's way. And I'd never commit this crime again.
It was a long walk home, the way I had chosen to leave the bus. I needed some time to think. I started walking into an alley, when I noticed several other guys following me. At first I thought that they were just minding their own business, but that wasn't the case. I suddenly felt vulnerable without the Colt.
I continued to walk, but picked up the pace. They managed to do the same, still looking inconspicuous to the passerby. I knew better. However, I still made a very big mistake. I walked into an alleyway, mostly out of habit. They followed. I decided to break into a run, but to no avail. There was only a dead end down this one.
"Hey, pretty! I saw what you did to that geek back in Downtown! Your a cunt, you know that?" the leader stated. He and his buddies were drawing nearer, and a couple of them drew knives. "We have ways to skin the kind of cat you are!"
I waited until the nearest one lunged, and I moved aside, using the guy's momentum to shove him into the wall. Unfortunately, his knife also slammed into the wall, and he was impaled in the base of his ribs. I dodged the next guy, and planted my foot into the dude's face.
BAAM!!
It took me a moment to even notice that it wasn't one of them that got shot. My guts felt like they were on fire, and I fell onto my back.
"Well, that was cute," said their leader, holding a Glock up to my head. "I bet this will be nearly painless. Pity."
BAAM!!
There was a bright, white light surrounding me, as I floated in the nether. I perused my surroundings, and found nothing particularly special. There was, however, a white robed man standing before me. He had a nice beard, and long, brown hair. The deep, dark eyes seemed knowing, and ancient beyond belief.
Jesus. Great, so I screwed up the afterlife that does exist. Wonderful!
Jesus looked at me with a sort of vague expression, as if wondering what to do. I knew pretty darn well what that meant. Being God doesn't make his expressions any less readable. He seemed to be lost in thought for quite some time, just staring at me. Finally, he spoke up.
"You know, Jon, you really messed things up back there."
"No shit."
"Well, shit doesn't have anything to do with it, but I think I get what you're saying. But allow me to enlighten you on why you're in the nether, and not in one of the realms. You had a purpose set before you, and were supposed to achieve it. I had great things planned for you! And it's all gone now. Ah, freewill."
"Wait, what?"
He looked at me with a look of sorrow. "I created you to fulfill a destiny that sorely needed doing. However, your father kind of ruined that for you. Then you killed Stephan. I had a lot planned for that one, too. Now it's all going to waste! Do you have any idea how much effort goes into planning out your creation?! Anyways, you killed him over something you were supposed to help him with. Great, now there's going to be a big hulking gap in my plans!"
I was completely and thoroughly shellshocked by all of this. Not only was I supposed to be alive, as well as Stephan, but a brony? This was just plain weird. I didn't know what to say. Luckily, I didn't have to.
"I have another thing planned on another world, another creation of mine. I need it fulfilled. If you want to redeem yourself, I offer this task to you. Do not choose it lightly, you'd prefer hell at first. But I assure you, I have great plans there too, and they also need to be completed."
It didn't take me long to decide. Even if I thought I deserved hell, that didn't mean I wanted it. My mind was made up from the beginning, especially considering the fact that hell would be better while I'm there. I'd pay my price, then go apologize to Stephan, if I could.
"I accept!"
"Good, now one final warning. I can't tell you what the task is, nor can I let you remember who you are. If I did that, I would move people around to frequently. Then what would the point of freewill be? This is your last chance. Do you accept?"
"Uh...I do!"
"I will be seeing you again in the not-too-distant future. Enjoy it while it lasts!"
POOF!!!
