Tick Tock, Wind the Clock
Tick Tock
Part 2
Wind the Clock
An MLP:FiM Fanfic by Midnight Shadow based on the Conversion Bureau alternate universe, originally by Blaze
Note: WARNING! Grimdark as fuck, possibly qualifies as snuff torture porn, and will NOT make any sense without reading http://www.fimfiction.net/story/1542/3/The-Day-the-Sky-Changed/Tick%2C-Tock first! You probably shouldn't read it, so abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
Tony watched with beady green eyes from the rooftops as the little lost unicorn stumbled its way through the dirty city streets. It was a nondescript brown colour with a black mane and tail, almost completely forgettable. Even the eyes, whilst being the same expressive limpid pools as every other candy-coloured four-legged zombie, were boringly brown.
The streets were empty. Good. It wouldn't be missed. He and the boys could have some fun with it.
"Yo, Charlie! Got one. Ten o'clock, the brown one."
"Tony-boy, what the fuck man, another stallion? You know the mares scream the best."
"There ain't no lonesome mares for you, bro, we dun been keepin' 'em out of the Kickers patch too well."
"Fuck that shit, you just wanna stick your cock in 'em and make 'em blow ya before ya kill 'em anyway."
"Fuck you, C, I have my fun my way, you have your fun yours."
"Fag." Charlie retorted, eyeing over the roof a the unicorn which had slowed, picking it's way very slowly around the rubbish and inspecting it's hooves. It was almost as if...
"Pony-fucker." Tony said, eyes also on the small equinoid.
"Least I ain't a fag." Charlie's insult was mostly a matter of rote, Tony was a Kicker like him; they owned these streets. Tony was a brother, even if he was a fag.
"Fuck you. Get Bruno, Leech and Whitey, I'll slow it down some." Tony headed for the door down to street level, from the roof of the empty warehouse.
"Sure man. But I get to light 'im up this time."
Tony stepped out of the shadows, slapping his favourite nail-studded plank against his palm, "Hey there, my little pony. I've got somethin' for ya."
The pony stopped, and turned around slowly and delicately, placing one hoof after another. It almost looked like it was searching for someone, but the street was empty. It was early afternoon and those with work were at it, those without were getting drunk, having sex, doing both or otherwise frittering away their worthless lives. Nobody with any sense of self-worth would be in streets like these.
"Good afternoon, Tony," the pony said in a soft voice, tilting his head inquisitively, "where are your friends?"
This wasn't going the way it was supposed to. The pony was supposed to run, scream, beg for his life, fight back even. It wasn't supposed to just stand there, and it certainly wasn't supposed to know his name.
"Ah, here they come. Only one? Oh, the others are inside... I'm so glad, so, so glad. I've been a good pony, I really have, I've been waiting for you."
Tony tried to open his mouth, tell the fucking pony to shut the fuck up, to tell it to shut up and do as he said or else. He tried to swing his nailed bat, but he couldn't move. For the first time in weeks since the last time they'd swapped blows with the eighth street Smokers, Tony knew fear, real fear. This was a unicorn, which always made him more cautious, but most newfoal unicorns were fucking useless with magic, about as much use as a wet fart in a hurricane. This one... Tony shuddered as he felt his body smartly about-face and head back in to the empty warehouse. The unicorn's horn was glowing softly, that meant it was doing magic... that was why he couldn't move and couldn't speak. Tony's eyes widened as he caught sight of Charlie marching in a similar stiff gait. The sandy-haired skinny kid with freckles settled next to Tony, who had his own greasy long black hair tied back with a bandana. It looked for all the world like the two in the rear were frog-marching the pony to his doom, but Tony - as a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead - was rapidly beginning to understand just how wrong that image was.
"Three more! Oh three more, oh thank you, Tony, I love an audience. I've been such a good pony this time, I've helped so many, my princess has given me five of you! Five! Oh I can't thank you enough."
"Let me go!" Tony squeaked, his words half-formed and slurred as if he were retarded or simply half-asleep, he forced them through uncooperative teeth and lips.
"Go? But... I'm hurt! I was going to let you do the honours," the brown pony narrowed his eyes, looking at the faces of all five people who now surrounded him, "Oh Tony, oh I forgive you! You want it so much more than these others, to cut, to slice - I need that, Tony, please, Tony Say you will?" the pony's eyes were wide and expressive, and his words were innocent and pure. It sounded for all the world like the pony was asking for a sugar-lump, but that gaze - Tony fought hard against whimpering as he peered down into a black pit.
"Say you'll cut me?"
"Fuck you, pony! I'm going to slice your fucking throat! I'm going to stab you and rip that goddamn mother-fucking heart of yours out and eat it!" Tony, when he found he could suddenly speak, took advantage of it.
The pony shook, but not with fear. "Oh sweet Celestia, I've been waiting for this. Oh my goddess, I've waited a long time. I've been so good! Thank you! Thank you for leading them to me!"
"What the fuck are you on, you freak!? I'm going to kill you!" Tony's voice grew shrill, he could barely move, and even then he was the only one who could move or speak at all.
The pony turned his head back to Tony from the others, looking the wiry human up and down, "We haven't been properly introduced, so rude of me. I shouldn't be rude to you. I'm Tick Tock, and I'm so very pleased to meet you."
Tony's heart beat fast, adrenalin flooding his body. this was wrong; very, very wrong. He couldn't move his body, but he could look around, so look he did. His eyes took in the room as he searched for something, anything that would get him out of there. It was a dirty, old warehouse. The Kickers gang was small, but they held this sweet warehouse. So what if they stored other, bigger gang's drugs, money, bitches, tools and stolen goods? They had a sweet deal - a cut of all the profits and control of the cruiseway. In return, they gave some floor space. So what. They didn't need much floorspace, not for their favourite pastime, which was pony-napping. Meat was scarce, pony meat had a huge markup, even newfoal meat. Especially, to some, newfoal meat. It brought in more than enough extra cash. They just had to find a little lost pony every so often, and... see to it.
It wasn't supposed to work like this, though. Whitey, opposite Tony, kept jerking his body, like he was constantly trying to say something. His expression was fierce, his lips twitched and little growling grunts issued from his mouth like he was having a seizure. The huge black guy was said to be a cannibal, Tony believed it, though he'd only seen the guy eat ponies. Newfoals didn't count as human, so it was okay. He could believe Whitey knew how to carve meat, he'd seen the guy slice up intruders.
"Oh lovely idea, Tony!" Tick Tock gasped, almost vibrating with happiness.
Tony watched as Whitey pulled out his hunting knife, red-rimmed bloodshot eyes stark and staring madly in the blackness of that ebony head. Tony could see the man's face pulled back in a grimace of absolute fear, lips tense against his pink gums and mostly-white teeth.
The knife had to be worth a fortune, he had no idea where the nigger'd got it. He'd thought about stealing it many times, but fuck if Whitey didn't know how to use it. Tony watched, horrified, as Whitey used it now on himself. Whitey's jerking and twitching turned to sobbing and mumbled prayers, short hard breaths as he fought against the compulsion, but to no avail. With a plunging and tearing motion, Whitey slit his own stomach open, sawing deep and pulling open with savage cuts, spilling red fountains of blood down around his ankles, and pulled out his own intestines. The huge black man, eyes expressive and wide, had tears dripping down his face. His muted sobs and begging requests for clemency were almost the only sound in that large room apart from the squealing of the excited pony and Tony's own heavy, shocked breathing.
"No, no man, no, please... don't..." Whitey managed, gasping through the pain, but his arms didn't listen, and they wrapped the boiling lengths of proto-sausage around his own neck and pulled.
The pony moaned like he was in pain, but Tony knew it was quite, quite different. Whitey fell over, thrashing, but still his arms and hands obeyed some other master. His gurgling pleading faded, and eventually, Whitey died. His eyes were bulging, his tongue was black and his legs twitched occasionally, but he was dead. His arms still pulled, still throttled, long after the last spark of true life had left the body.
Tick Tock gasped in pleasure, turning to another, the girl. Leech's hand balled up into a fist and savagely began to force its way down it's owners own throat. Bones cracked, teeth splintered. Leech, she was a Chinese, or mostly Chinese - Tony didn't know - begged around her fist, trying to fight it. She was crying now, wailing, a long and keeing scream that just went on and on. Tick Tock had his eyes closed, swaying in time to the sounds. He opened those large eyes, and watched intently for the next part of the tact.
Tony watched too, immobile, as Tick Tock changed tactic. The girl's fist retreated, opened, and then grabbed onto her tongue, and pulled. She screamed then, loudly, but the blood made her just gurgle. Her ripped tongue was shoved savagely back into her own throat, choking the noise off. Her body, too, fell to the floor. Tick Tock let her thrash, he murmured appreciatively as she begged, pleaded, threatened and suffered. Finally, her part of the grisly show seemed to lose appeal. The pony turned once more to Tony.
"Cut me, Tony." Tick Tock whispered, "I've been so bad, this is so bad, and I know I have to be punished, it is the will of the princess... you have to cut me, please cut me. Use Whitey's knife, it's pretty."
Tony found himself walking smoothly to pick up the knife that had so recently been used to kill Whitey, the knife he had wanted ever since he'd seen it. Hell, he'd let Whitey in the gang because of that knife. He felt the compulsion leave him as his hand fastened around the grip, and he could move again freely. He eyed the door, and immediately felt the pressure return.
"No, no, I said I wanted you to cut me, so cut me, mother fucker. Cut me right now!" Tick Tock rolled onto his back, legs in the air, "I'm here, Tony, all for you. Slice me, oh please slice me up, I need the pain!"
The handle was slick and warm. Oh yes, he would cut that little four-hooved bastard alright. He'd cut his heart out, spill his blood and drink it, flay the animal alive and listen to him scream...
Tick Tock was writhing on the floor, but not in agony. If Tony had been in any doubt that this was a stallion before, now he couldn't be. The stallion was excited. Very, very... Tony gulped. He liked men, he always had, there was something about them that he just liked more than women. Sure, he'd fucked a few girls and at least one dumb bitch had got herself pregnant, not that he cared. They were great in their own way but only men actually turned him on. Men, and apparently stallions. It revolted him, in so many ways, but then he knew what he was, and you couldn't get much more male than a stallion.
"Touch me, touch me and paint with my blood. I know you want to... go on, you're free to touch me..." the stallion's voice was soft and coaxing.
Even as Tony tried to shut out the gurgled, muffled sobbing screams of Leech's final suffocation in her own bodily fluids, he could hear that inner voice leading him on. Tears fell from his eyes, this was all going so wrong. He tried to turn away, but was only rewarded with a view of Bruno the mostly-mexican slicing his own throat with a shank made from a stolen silver soup-spoon, and Charlie sticking his gun into his own mouth and pulling the trigger.
Tick Tock wasn't merciful there, either. Charlie missed, blasting away the back of his throat in a fountain of red and white, and the hand with the gun kept moving to new parts on the boy's body, blasting away. With the last bullet, the gun was at Charlie's head. Charlie could scream now, and scream he did, but the puppet master just pulled the trigger and the scream died quicker than the owner.
Tony was going to kill the unicorn. He picked up the knife, strode easily towards the writing, orgasming shape on the floor and went to plunge the blade deep into it's vitals. The tip sunk a fraction of an inch, and then his hand dragged the blade a short trip along the soft underbelly.
Tick Tock squealed, and Tony found his hand doing it again. He laughed, a bitter sobbing laugh. As long as he kept hurting the unicorn, he was free to move. The moment he tried to kill, or stop, the barriers would come up.
With every dragging cut, he could see Bruno echoing the motion. Bruno was muttering in Spanish, sobbing and breathing lightly. Tony couldn't stop, he couldn't let himself stop. Worse, as he cut, he felt pleasure. The pleasure was emanating from the bleeding, thrashing unicorn, and it was infectious, rolling through him. He felt his pants grow tight and uncomfortable.
"Lose them, touch me, touch me properly." Tick Tock gasped, and Tony found himself complying. He moved close, closer, closer still... and then he was so close that it wasn't physically possible get any closer. He'd never imagined that rape could work like that, but it did. He dragged the knife, fighting it, willing it to plunge as deeply into the unicorn as he now found himself, but he couldn't do it. He was nothing but a puppet, a toy, to be used... and then discarded.
Tick Tock's mind exploded. As their twinned motions grew to their inevitable climax, as the pain grew throughout his body to a crescendo, the voices stopped and there was a single, blessed, perfect moment of silence. He felt his own body jerk in time with the human on top and inside him, and warm wetness covered his chest. It ran in rivulets that stained his brown coat red all the way down to where his back was solidly on the floor. Tick Tock whimpered, spent. Blessed silence, that was all he wanted. He knew he was doing right, now, when the voices stopped. He ran a hoof through the hair of the human and spoke ever so softly, "Thank you, Tony. Clean me up, use your shirt, you won't need it much longer."
Tony sobbed. The unicorn beneath him seemed strangely passive. He found himself drying the unicorn's chest off, dabbing at the bloodied cuts. Soon there was little to show for what had happened, but Tony would know, he would always know, for as long as he lived.
"That won't be a problem." Tick Tock breathed heavily, languishing, "Fetch the petrol."
Tony complied, he had no choice. They'd stashed a small canister of the precious flammable fluid, mostly ethanol, for these parties, to aid in the cleanup. He picked it up, testing his own body. He could move, but only where and how his master wished. He cried, hot tears. He was beyond begging, now. He knew the type. He was that type.
Tony found himself splashing the green-tinted liquid on the still-warm bodies of his friends, and then on himself. He found his arms raising the canister to his lips, and quaffing it. He wanted to retch, to puke, but he couldn't even gag.
"Why!" he managed to splutter, as he dropped the can.
"Oh Tony, it's okay, it won't hurt for long. That's what you're here for, you're my prize. I've been so good, Tony, I've been killing your kind so diligently! When I heard you, I knew my princesses had given you to me as a reward. It makes the voices stop, Tony, it makes them stop. Do you... do you know what the voices are like, Tony? They keep nagging and screaming and talking and chatting at you, Tony, they never stop, and they say such hurtful things... so I make them stop, one at a time, until I find some voices like you, and I can make them all stop for a while..."
Tony whimpered, twitching. The world was spinning, the poisonous liquid he'd ingested was eating his belly from the inside. He needed a doctor, he needed to get away from this crazy unicorn, he needed-
"Lighter."
"No!" cried Tony, blubbering, willing with all his heart, even as one arm reached down and picked up his gasoline-soaked jacket. His arms, quite against his will, threw it on and picked out his favourite lighter. It had a dragon on it.
"Now."
Tony flicked it open, and then the world was pain.
***
Tick Tock walked, limping, towards the nearest hospital. He had a smile on his face and a spring in his step. His princesses had rewarded him, the voices were quiet. He hurt, it was true, and he had been stained by the human, but it was a necessary part of his penance. The ponies and people mostly ignored him, even though they trotted or strode through his blood. They always did, even when the voices were stopped.
He cantered straight in to the busy building, walking past everypony straight to one of the emergency beds in the back. He clambered up onto it with a little difficulty and lay down, smiling. He could be a patient patient, now. He was at peace, everything was right with the world - for a while.
He would wait for a nurse, usually one turned up. Sometimes they took a while, and he could lie there in the silence a bit longer. Pain was a small price to pay. The princesses would be so proud of him, he thought, as he closed his eyes, so proud.
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I think part of my soul just shriveled up and died, excellent work Midnight, a very gut-wrenching chapter. If i hadn't already given you five stars you'd be getting them now
EDIT: After reading part 1 and 2 back to back, I think I need to go watch something happy now
Oh that tick tock!
What the fuck did I just read?
This isn't like snuff tortune fics, this IS a snuff torture fic.
175555
there's a good what the fuck, a bad what the fuck, and then a "what the fuck!?".
Hopefully it's the first or last - the last would mean that it was good, even if it pissed you off or made you upset.
This was so wrong in all the right ways.
177540
I was actually unsure whether to post it - this was one of those times when I just let the scene play out as it was supposed to go, and I even went back and tidied it up to amp up the crazy just a little bit more... and then I finished and realized what I'd done.
It's all for a reason, but it doesn't stop it being something very dark. I posted it anyway.
Question: Are the voices that Tick Tock hears insanity, or are they telepathic, and driving the pony insane - in other words, is he tuned into the most vile of humans, and that is what he needs to silence?
If so... double-plus awesome.
177845
Okay, you want my take on my own character, to clear things up?
This may be spoilers, but I think it's something that most will have gathered may be the case.
He's a newfoal unicorn, with a very specific talent. He is, in a way, autistic as a pony. He, in his own words, can barely lift a cup and saucer. He can't turn apples into carriages, he can't set things on fire, he can't make dresses. He can't, in fact, do almost anything that even the most simple of unicorns can do. In almost every way, he is an earth pony, because his magic is so specific, and broken.
What he can do is work with electromagnetic fields and thoughts. He doesn't really understand his own talents, either. It's like a game to him. He can read and influence even the most feeble of electromagnetic fields - it is magic, but to him he doesn't see spells or incantations, or even effort. He just... does it. He also cannot turn it off.
The voices he hears is the result of him being completely unable to turn off his talent, which is (in his own words) off the scale. Every second of every day, even when he's trying to sleep, he can hear every dirty little thought from everything in a fifty klick radius. Everything. The arguments, the fights, the plotted murders, rapes, thieving. The conspiracies, the attacks on ponies.
As always, negative emotions are powerful and loud, and you don't get much louder than rape and murder, which happens to mostly be of ponies. He hears and feels both the adrenalin rush of the perpetrators as well as the agony and death of the ponies. To him, he hears the death of pure innocence and the exultation of the corrupt.
He is a pure empath, unable to silence the voices - except under certain rare conditions. Sexual excitation and great pain, which often come together. In a way, he is driven to commit the crimes he does because he has grown used to the release being from both at the same time, and like pavlov's dogs, he is now trained for it.
He's a real poor character, really. If he'd been Equestrian he could have been trained, or shielded, or sheltered. As an unknown newfoal, driven completely barking bonkers, he's got no hope. He doesn't even know about inhibitors, and likely now would refuse one seeing as he thinks he is doing the will of the princesses by silencing the evil voices and saving the happy ones.
177862 Dear lord, it's like River Tam fell off the knife edge into the dark instead of the light
236498
I don't know, directly. I can say I did want a villain character that echoed the sort of ethos of the DC and Marvel greats - I'm not so full of myself that I can claim I have managed it, but it was what I wanted.
I want a believable, if over the top, bug nuts guy you can still relate to. Even whilst he's frothing at the muzzle and doing his worst, I want you to understand why, perhaps even hate him for it. Was the joker's callous disregard for humanity part of Tick Tock? Quite probably - the Joker, the Penguin, these two have essentially left humanity behind. One of them by embracing his animal nature even as he builds his deadly quirky inventions, the other one by become a true chaotic evil avatar.
By contrast, Batman puts on a mask that he knows is a mask. Superman's secret identity is Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne's is Batman. Part of the internal conflict for the latter is when Batman becomes the dominant personality. Tick Tock's mask is of an amiable unicorn, entirely forgettable and sweet, but it's a mask he never has to take off as behind that mask twitches the bubbling insanity of a psychopath who just wants the voices to stop. He's hurt to the core and lashes out, reveling in a side of him he wouldn't acknowledge even if you could make him understand he has it.
You're not supposed to like-like him, you're supposed to love to hate him - I do know we all love a good villain, so if I've managed that then I'm pleased.
I have to go read the bible now
Wait so the ponies destroyed earth? I don't understaaaaand
829568
These are a collection of stories, and aren't meant to be read in sequence, as such.
Chapters 1 and 5 are one-shots
Chapters 2 and 4 are the "to save eden" story
chapters 3 and 6 are the two "tick tock" chapters written so far
And yes, the unicorn in "the day the sky changed" has, in my world, perpetrated the biggest crime against humanity possible. He, single hoofedly, modified the spell that should have created nothing but a mere whisper of a gateway a planck length across so that it ate the planet.
Does he get his comeuppance? Well, I haven't written it yet.
239984
Well you aren't really supposed to like him, he's a complete monster. I wanted to see how far I could take it, and it sounds like it went roughly where I wanted it to. He's a fun character I'd like to write with again, his closing chapter.