Fic Reviews: The Pony Of Vengeance · 7:15pm May 1st, 2018
Okay, so this is a review that was personally requested by well... They know who they are. Winks at Brady Bunch Now, like always for multi-chapter fics, I'll only be doing the first chapter, but man, does this one leave an impression. But is it a good impression, or a bad one? More after the break.
Alright, fic in question?
Okay... Yes, I'm a suck-up. But just because the author in question asked me to review their own fic and I promised to do so, doesn't mean I'm going to be biased. This is a professional review, and any flaws I find I will point out. Now, I admit, I'm not the world's best writer, so I may miss things that others might find so you'll have to forgive me for that. Anyways... cracks knuckles
His name was Devon. He was a tall, beige-colored griffon with black hair and a sour temperament. Since his childbirth, he and his family were poor and had gotten by mostly on relief funds and begging for money. Griffonstone was, after all, a place of depravity and poor economic conditions, wallowing in poverty and old hay.
Devon had gotten into debt early on in his life. To help pay off the debts, and to try and get out of Griffonstone, Devon found himself involved in petty crime- swiping a wallet here and there, extortion, and he had once knifed another griffon for twenty gold bits. Over the years he had eventually moved to Manehatten and begun a new life there. He rose through the ranks of criminals to become a minor leader in a weapons business.
He was now overseeing seven of his under-associates loading in several crates into a dim, cobwebby old warehouse on 5th and Hay street owned by one of his crime bosses. Looking at his fellow griffons straining under their loads and stacking them in the warehouse, he reflected on the circumstances that led him into such a situation.
You know what this intro reminds me of? The very first part of White Fang, by Jack London. Introduces us to characters we'll never see again, just to set up the larger story. I like this, and to be honest, even if this guy's complete scum little details like the ones mentioned below make me want to see what happens to him next, and make me interested in him as a character.
Devon watched all of this with satisfaction. His compatriots weren't just hard workers, they kept themselves in check- and prevented others from stepping out of their spots. Essential elements in good underworkers. You worked hard to get where you were in the criminal underworld.
Devon was not ambitious, nor was he cunning or deceiving. All he wanted was enough money to live comfortably. It was the spot he was in now, and he liked it.
It's sorta like Death Note in a way (Remind me to get back to that...) , the main lead's a lunatic beyond measure with his God Complex, but like any good lead, you want to know what happens next, and what he'll do next. Mind you, Devon's not our lead, hell, he won't make it past this chapter, but... You get my point. Also:
Thump thump
He paused. What was that sound? It was faint, but it seemed to resonate throughout his entire being for some reason. He looked around for a second, watching for an intruder to come in, an accident about to happen-
Then he realized. It was just the beating of his own heart. Devon put his hand to his chest and felt the steady, regular beat of it under his flesh. The heart, an unstoppable organ, the definition of life, the thing your body depended on so much but never failed at. Steady, steady beats. Steady...he felt its beat, counted its motions, its rhythm.Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump, th-
Thump thump
And his own heart seemed to skip a little. That, right there, wasn't his heartbeat. It was something else. He looked around. Did someone turn on a machine or something? It sounded like it came from the catacombs of the warehouse, deep inside, deep inside...
Okay, minor criticism here. Normally, onomatopoeia isn't really a good thing in a story, and I admit I'm guilty of it myself, but here, it's used masterfully, and the sights and sounds combined with that inject me into this environment. And that's not a easy thing to do as a writer, get someone totally immersed in a world of text.
Devon twiddled his thumbs nervously. It was nothing to be feared. They were safe. No pony knew this place was being used, and no griffon would sabotage their job. It was being commissioned bythe boss, after all, and no one dared crossthe boss. It was just the heating system finally kicking in.
Thump thump
And yet he felt cold, so cold, so bitterly frozen. It came all at once. One instant it was room temperature in the warehouse, the next, it seemed to drop twenty degrees. Devon shivered. It was probably his imagination. He was paranoid. He was just getting nervous because he was a criminal, after all, because what if Manehatten police found out he was transporting weapons to his higher-ups, what if they found out about his past activities of robbery and petty murder?
Now, the fear sets in. Whoever the hell this pony(?) is, well, he's very good at his job. Playing psylogical warfare, messing with these poor soul's minds before he closes in. Kinda like the Batman in a way, only without the rules. Is a Red Hood comparison allowed here?
Hell, I could make a Punisher comparison here if I wanted. Those two comparisons alone, should tell you what's coming next. And lo and behold, despite the predictablity, (Which is remeded by the masterful horror useage here, as if I was in this griffon's place, I'd be scared shitless as well.) take a guess what happens.
"Are those badges?" one of the griffons asked. He went forward to try and examine them.
"Get back!" another scowled at him, and grabbed his arm before he could do anything. "I don't know what those are! There's a reason why this is all secret, you know!"
Thump thump
"Guys?" one of the eight griffons asked. "M-maybe we should put those back. I don't want the boss to get mad at us."
"What the boss doesn't know won't hurt him," another griffon snapped. "If you're so much of a pansy that you can't even handle this, maybe you should just get out of here!"
"Is it just me, or did it get really cold in here all of a sudden?"
"It's not just you. I feel it too."
Devon tried to put the object down, but found that he couldn't. The object was so intriguing that no matter how much he tried to just lay it down and pack up the spilled weapons, he just couldn't. It was too peculiar.
Thump thump
"Does anyone else hear that?" another griffon asked.
"Hear what?"
"Listen!"
Everyone fell silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the faint winds howling outside like forlorn wolves and the hum of the yellow, aging light bulbs above them. A few of them flickered.
Then they heard it.
Thump thump
Again, love the psylogical warfare employed here, and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if the griffons decided it was every man for himself and turned on each other. Hell, would be a good place to end the chapter here, would it not? But we do want to find out who'd doing this, so...
And all of a sudden the lights went out like the snap of a finger. Someone screamed and fired their crossbow randomly in the oppressive darkness, prompting a barrage of twangs as even more crossbows were fired in response.
And then, as sudden as it had gone out, the lights came back on again.
The griffons looked breathless, panting desperately, looking around in fear. Arrows littered the ground. Devon looked around, checking to see if anyone was hurt. Nobody was.
But one of them was missing.
Devon's breath caught in his throat. Where had he gone? "Paul?" Devon asked, looking around the large space they were in. Paul, wherever he was, gave no response.
"Where'd he go?" Glenn asked apprehensively.
Thump thump
One of the griffons was hyperventilating. In between breaths, he gasped, "We...we're going to...to die!"
"No one is dying on my watch," Devon said sharply. He drew a knife from his belt. But even as he did so, he realized it was a promise he couldn't hold to permanently.
Thump thump
The sound seemed to come from directly in front of him. Gulping, he raised his knife in the direction of the thumping sound. Itwasa heartbeat, the heartbeat of some evil abomination of nature, perhaps.
"Everyone, hold hands," a griffon suggested. "That way, if one of us disappears, we'll be able to tell." All the griffons tentatively held hands then.
Again, still no idea as to who's doing this, but still keeping my interest here with how the stranger picks off the griffons one by one. I won't spoil how he exactly picks off every last one as by this point as I'm already pleased enough to bump this story's rating to 7/10 and want you to read it for yourself, so I'll just skip ahead to the last stragglers.
And suddenly there was an explosion, a hard sound that rocked the ground beneath them, a flash of orange color near the one unnamed griffon that he was caught up in. He disappeared in the blooming flame, then came running out, engulfed in fire. Glenn and Devon had been thrown back by the force of it and had hit the ground with a hard thud. Devon struggled up weakly in time to see the burning, screaming griffon stumble away.
And then there was a bang, and he spurted blood from his front, and the screaming stopped. The burning, bleeding griffon fell down onto the cold concrete floor and moved no more. As he fell, Glenn and Devon could see who had killed him, standing behind him.
He was silhouetted against the tall forest of fire behind him, his image distorted by the heat waves emanating off of the fire. They could see nothing of his dark figure, other than that he was a pony who was standing upright, pointing something at the burning corpse. Glenn and Devon felt like they were in a nightmare, a terrible nightmare where all of your friends died and this was Tartarus, a special kind of Tartarus.
Glenn screamed in fear as the upright pony looked at him with baleful eyes and pointed his hoof at him. He tried to scramble away from him, but the nightmare simply aimed at him and a loud bang filled the air, loud as thunder. Glenn stumbled, bleeding from a wound in his thigh. He gripped it and more blood spurted out, crying aloud in pain.
Two more bangs ripped through the air, and two more wounds appeared in Glenn's back and shoulder. He fell to the ground, and one more deafening bang echoed in the vast warehouse. A hole appeared in the back of his head, and he went still.
Devon felt like he was going to throw up. His shaking fingers clutched the handle of the black capital L, wondering why he hadn't fired it before. He drew it up so it was pointing it at the head of the deathly pony, and pulled the trigger with all of his strength.
Click
The sound made his insides drop. Of course. Nopony ships loaded weapons. The device was empty. Devon had forgotten to load it.
The pony stood there for a second as if he was amused. Devon hurriedly threw the device away to the side and exclaimed, "I surrender! I surrender, d'you hear?"
By god, the descriptions, and the insights to the griffon's mind here... Sure, they're nightmarish, but really, this is good writing. They sorta speak for themselves, and really, by this point do I have to say much? Once again, I'm transported to a world beyond text, and it's like I'm in the same room as Devon, looking upon what he's seeing. And what is he seeing, you may ask?
For a while, there was only the sound of the crackling, snapping flames. The pony was motionless.
Then a soft voice came through, barely distinguishable over the snapping, angry fire.
"Don't you understand?" the voice spoke so calmly, so quietly, so slowly. "I'm not accepting surrenders. A surrender is the mark of a weak being." He slowly walked to the side, still silhouetted by the fire. "You are a criminal. A liar, a murderer, a creature of vileness and filth. I can't allow you to live. I can't allow you to exist in a world where you can cause so much more damage to the innocent. You've abused the privilege to live."
And he pointed his hoof at Devon. Devon was paralyzed by fear. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything except pray in his head for mercy.
"And when privileges are abused..." The voice was so calm, so soft, so quiet, "...They get taken away."
A bang.
Now, this sets up a good argument, and we go back to Death Note a little, and the Punisher. At what point do you gain the right to live, how many privileges must you abuse before a right's taken away? Arguments of right and wrong. Arguments like these, namely ones that make you think, which is a sign of any good piece of fiction, at least in my mind, is a good thing. A very good thing.
The pain was unbearable, the pain was like a fire burning in his insides as a wound opened in his gut. As he bled his life out and his eyesight failed him, all he could see was the orange blur of the flame. And all he could hear was the beat of his failing heart.
Thump thump
Thump thump
Thump thump
Thump thump
Thump...
And that's the end of that. So, what do I think? Well, this is a rare moment for me, as I honestly have nothing against this story, at least for the moment. So, unless I find something wrong with the later chapters, for now... I give this story out of Ten... A perfect ten. Scores high marks everywhere, emotions, desciptions, a good build-up to the main villain and one of the leads, and a really good argument that makes you think. And now, before I close out, leave you with some prime nightmare fuel. Sweet dreams...
Man, this is even better than I imagined it would be! Thank you so much for doing this, and sorry if I pestered you a little too much before.
Many people have actually made comparisons to the Punisher in the comment section, but people also compare him to Ghost Rider. And you're the first person to compare it to either the Red Hood or Death Note. The crazy thing is, I have never watched the Punisher TV show or the movie Punisher, and I have also not seen Ghost Rider or Death Note. I watched Batman: Under the Red Hood, but that's the extent of my knowledge on Red Hood. Man, I think I'm doing something right here if I can make people draw conclusions from things I've never seen!