Waking up for the Equestrian dream

by Jack Kellar

Chapter 2

Silence enveloped the room like a thick fog, disturbing and uncomfortable. I was too perplexed to form a rational reaction. I was in the presence of an unicorn, a pink unicorn with wings. Something so burlesque hadn't occurred even when I had taken an involuntary dive into the depths of a Valkyr binge.

For a moment, I pondered about the possibility of false awakening, that I was still under the influence of the paramedics' sedative, or maybe dying from a painkiller O.D.

“Please, look at me. Don’t be afraid.”

And then, all of a sudden, the cold truth crashed down, unexpected and fierce like an avalanche. There was far too much behind those pupils for any imagination to have conjured, for it to be a figment of anybody’s consciousness or a byproduct of drug abuse. It complemented all the oddities I had overlooked or ignored before, alien colors mixing and seeping into an unreal arabesque.

I was in a recovery room improvised out of a luxurious bedroom, face to face with a mythical horse that had her hoof on my cheek. And it was all real.

The epiphany was silent; there was no agitation, no panic, not even denial – just a lingering confusion that pulled at my mind. Whatever sedative Cadance had used blocked my emotions, but it didn't stop the hows and whys from buzzing like flies.

“You have very sad eyes...” Her expression mirrored that of her gaze, a blend of worry and poignancy, topped off by an innocent curiosity that almost made her eyes twinkle. It was just as hard to maintain eye contact as before, but for all the different reasons. She didn't complain when I turned my head back to the ceiling, her foreleg coming down on the floor with a quiet clack. “... can I help with anything else?”

Voicing my thoughts felt strange. I was completely out of my element, flying blind through a tropical storm in the middle of the night. “Where am I?”

“You're at the Royal Palace of Canterlot, in Equestria, home of my aunts, Princesses Celestia and Luna.”

I was reminded of how she had mentioned 'Princess' before. Having something at least vaguely familiar to lock onto put me a bit more at ease, but there were bigger issues and questions to ask. “How did I get here?”

Cadance hesitated. “No one really knows. After we banished the changeling queen, you were there on the carpet of the chapel, in the middle of a scorch mark.”

“I remember that happening. I blacked out, didn't it?”

“Blacked out is an understatement! You were so hurt everypony wondered how you were even conscious.”

I wondered the exact same thing through a yawn.

“Oh. I’m sure you have many questions, but for now, you have to focus on resting at least for a little, okay? I'll be back in about an hour.”

The only thing that pointed Cadance's leave was the sound of the doorknob moving in its nest, clicking twice. I was left alone with my thoughts – or at least what little that wasn't run over straight away by fatigue, who had decided to stop tailing behind and finally caught up.

---

The dream had started out the way it used to a long time ago – the same entrance hall, with a wardrobe to the right and two cupboards along the entrance. Between them, the wallpaper had been scraped in the rough shape of a V: the black paint was gone, but it left its scar, misshapen, ugly and even bigger than the wound that preceded it.

The phone in the next room was ringing. I put it to my ear. The line was as mute as a grave, no sound at all from the other side.

The pictures in the living room had changed. The one I had taken with Alex, from a time where waving to the camera didn't feel like a hollow act, was warped – instead of a balding blonde man in a DEA suit, my photo self had his arm over the shoulder of a robed figure holding a scythe. Someone I felt I knew better than I did Alex.

Above it, the news headline Michelle had made sure to be conserved in a frame had been replaced by the shot of a pink horse. At first I thought it was Cadance, but even though the emotions within the eyes were almost the exact same, there was no lighting in the world that would make me mistake Cadance's amethyst with the electric blue of this one. The lack of a horn and the different mane sealed it – that wasn't her. The frown the image had on was uncanny, an ugly stain, like the face in it wasn't supposed to ever have a sad expression. Like before, I averted my gaze.

The world shifted as I climbed the stairs, from wallpaper to raw concrete. I emerged in a small, almost empty room. The only company I had was a bare table, a piece of cardboard nailed to the middle of it with a wooden stake, the word “NOW” inscribed on it staring back at me with its rusty red letters.

Going back through the door led me to what was left of a laboratory, red lines crisscrossing the air like the illumination set of a rave party frozen in time. A computer screen shone behind the mishmash of laser tripwires. I made the mistake of entering the path of one of the beams, and something much worse than an explosion happened. A baby began crying, drilling into my head with its desperate wails. Wishing for it to stop and covering my ears only made it louder.

Head swimming, I drunkenly stepped back and off the beam's path. It surged forwards with the speed of a turtle, and as it did, the wails diminished, fading to nothing as the light touched the wall. All the other tripwires went undisturbed – I made sure not to make the same mistake twice.

There was no keyboard under the monitor, an image of a grey office looking oddly three-dimensional behind its borders. My hands sank into the glass as they touched it, and it offered the same resistance as I heaved into it like a window. Nicole Horne's computer stared blindly at the window behind the desk; beyond it, the snow I remembered had been replaced by a dark rain, running thickly over its surface, green stains left in the wake of each drop.

The doors of the elevator were open, the yellow light glaring into my retinas like the devil's eye. The doors hadn't closed for over a second before they opened again, an entirely different vista unveiled behind their polished edges. The mist rolled over the morgue's floor like seafoam on the sand, covering the feet of the gurneys, more than I could count. Each had a covered body in it, their features protected by white sheets. I pulled the closest one off, and a ghost leapt out from its cage.

The body was that of the first junkie I had killed in my old home.

The other gurneys revealed more vaguely familiar faces, some of which I could recognize easily, others going without an accurate identity. After a while, I stopped uncovering the bodies and just walked on. The restaurant-morgue hall stretched on far beyond what the cold fog allowed the eye to see, bathed by the sterile white illumination of the mercury lamps.

Suddenly, the lights overhead exploded in showers of sparks and glass shards, their light replaced by the infernal orange of fire. I lost my footing when the ground shook, and as it threw me around, I got a glimpse of my six. It was Casa de Angelo all over again, fire and explosions racing after me like a pack of hellhounds, intent on giving their master the soul of the day. Something snagged my ankles, and it was by sheer luck that I stayed on my feet.

Dragging themselves along the floor, the gurneys' occupants grasped at my legs like a swarm of infernal ants, bodies peppered with bullet holes, clothes bathed in blood, eyes gleaming with unholy light and vengeful anger.

I ran. Salvation came in the form of a bulkhead marked by the acronym D-6, the end of the hall now in sight.

I never had the chance to get close to the door: another explosion came from behind, throwing me forwards to the tiled floor in a heap, right in front of a pair of expensive dress shoes. The killer was smiling.

“Max Payne. It’s nice of you to join us.”

I had seen less teeth in a bear trap.

The baby started wailing again. Three voices cried at the exact same time, still distinguishable in their perfect unison. “MAX!!”

---

“… did you do?!”

“Ah dunno! Ah jes’ tapped the gemstone an’ it started doin’ that!”

“You’re choking it!”

“HELP!”

It wasn't the commotion in the room that woke me up.

“Urk-!”

When you are ripped from the waking world by something flattening your windpipe, you tend to go deaf to voices.

The shackles around my wrists refused to budge, pressing them against the mattress almost as tightly as the one around my neck, biting down on the flesh straight through the skin. I’d already lost all sense of sight and hearing by the time they finally let go.

The stress of the nightmare had coupled up with the pain and lack of oxygen, leaving me to curl up in a ball, coughing worse than a lung cancer patient. Almost instantly, someone forced me back on my back, pressing a cold cloth over my throat, his voice rough enough to grind a diamond. “You three! Who let you in here?!”

No response came.

“Don’t you see the results of your actions? He could’ve been hurt really bad!”

The trio began talking, trampling each others’ words with their own...

“We’re so sorry!”

“He wasn’t breathin’ right when we came in!”

“We were just trying to help!”

... in children's voices.

Before I knew it, each hack was being followed by a raspy cackle. I wasn’t laughing only at the absurdity of being treated by self-aware, talking unicorns in an improvised hospital. I laughed at how much of a mean-spirited prankster death was, how three kids had almost killed me when a small army of men with the gear to match only came close to doing it twice.

It wasn’t a nice sound, of joy and relief. It was something bitter, tasting like bile, echoing with resignation, each bout a shard of broken glass bouncing on the walls. When it finally stopped, I hit the pillow again, contemplating the ceiling, feeling as hollow as when the warden had opened the door to my cell. My neck voiced its disagreement just then, and I coughed more. I tasted rust.

“Are you okay?”

I didn’t have it in myself to lie. “Haven’t been in a long time.”

The male went silent for a moment. “Girls, I think you better go join Twilight in… whatever she’s doing.” It wasn’t a request. “And don’t think you’re home free: I’m still talking to her about this later.”

The door opened. “WHAT IS THE MATTER? WE HAVE HEARD NOISES FROM THE SURROUNDINGS.”

I cringed from the sheer volume, Bravura and his megaphone coming to mind. After I left the DEA, he was the first I came in contact with, and his offer of a spot in Homicides was the best I could have asked for. I would have my mind too busy to think of the past, stuck behind a desk for most of the time, where my Wild West approach – his words – wouldn't cause the force any issues. Everyone satisfied. End of story.

It didn't take much effort to picture him now, sitting on his own hospital bed, a pile of reports still warm from the printers and old case files freshly smuggled from his office scattered over his lap, the man over them sighing with a hand on his forehead, longing for a cup of coffee. He was a good guy, wishing only to do the best for his city and his subordinates – I didn't doubt he would be trying to chalk Winterson's death as Mona’s doing just to cover for me. I felt sorry for him: in three years, he’d had to get two stomach ulcer surgeries, and he’d be lucky if he didn’t need a third after last night.

“Princess Luna, Your Majesty!”

The voice snapped me out of my daydream, and I turned to look, my ears still buzzing. A winged unicorn was standing in the doorway, peering inside with narrowed eyes. Part of the view was obscured by another horse, a white one wearing a Roman Legionnaire costume.

“Captain Shining Armor. Would thou… you mind explaining the current incident? And, as you are at it, why, pray tell, are the wedding’s flower fillies here.”

I followed his gaze to three smaller horses huddled in the corner, trying to make themselves as diminutive as possible. The captain horse kept silent, looking left and right, chewing on words stuck to his tongue.

“They were trying to help me.”

All eyes turned in my direction. The room was like a cup of microwaved water, ready to boil over and scald all within reach with the slightest jerk. “Whatever was holding me started to tighten. I was suffocating, and they heard it.”

The seconds rolled slowly. Shining Armor scratched the ground with a hoof. “I can attest to that, Your Majesty. They were trying to shut the restrictor down, and he was flailing on the bed.” I felt my arm being taken. “He's even got the marks to prove it.”

“Is that so...?” Metal clacked on the floor as she approached, a warm breath falling over my arm. “I see.” The top of her head came into view, a small, black crown perched on her head behind her horn, her snout nuzzling the cloth I’d taken to holding against my neck after the male had left it there. I was thankful her eyes were on the bruise.

I was thankful too soon.

She shifted her stare up, straight into mine. She froze much like I did, déjà-vu piercing into my soul like an ice dagger. I had seen eyes like that before – the underlying emotions were different, but whatever the cause, in the end, it all boiled down to a dull gleam, leftovers of repressed hate and desire for payback.

I had been seeing those eyes for years. They were there every time I looked into a mirror. This time, the reflection was pale, foggy, almost nonexistent, but it was still there, reminding me of my past. A nervous relief washed over me when I finally broke eye contact, turning to stare at the window.

“V-very well. Captain, We shall trust thee to… to manage the necessary steps. Now if you excuse Us, We must be off… to tend to our duties. Yes.” She was out of the room almost at a gallop.

Her Majesty practically screamed that something was up. Most crackpots had better game faces than hers.

“… okay, what was that all about?” one of the children asked.

Shining Armor wasn’t pleased. “Nothing to worry about. Now, go find Twilight.” Once we were alone, he turned to me. “Thanks for that. They are good kids, my sister tells me, but you can’t leave them unwatched for ten seconds.”

I waved him off. “Think nothing of it.”

The silence was oppressive, coiling on me like a snake over a mouse. The captain scratched at the floor. “This is so strange…”

There was little humor in my chuckle. “Got the words right out of my mouth.”

All of a sudden, the door smashed against the wall, and in came six horses of all colors and types, the jewelry on all of them grafted with gems that shined with a menacing light. Luna swaggered in behind them, a victorious smirk drawn on her face. “Tainted wretch! Thou shall not corrupt this land or its dwellers! It has taken Me a long, hard lesson, but even I know there is no room in Equestria for a Nightmare!”

One of them, a purple unicorn with a golden tiara, stood in front of the others, braced as if to charge. “Now, girls!”

All bets were off. The moment they had busted in, I was already crouched on the bed. The dive roll came as easy as riding a bike, sending me across the room.

For all the good it did to evade the multicolored blast aimed at me, I might as well have stayed on the bed.

---

The tiles were white once. Now they were tainted, grime turning them a bony, yellowy color.

I didn't find them ugly. I didn't deserve it.

One look down showed I was bound to the floor of the stall. The chain links were rusted. The bathroom beyond the glass had no mirror, no sink, and no toilet. Just grimy bone-colored tiles. There was a valve to my left.

All of a sudden, the little mares from earlier, the whole half-dozen, appeared from the sides of the stall, dazed and confused. The purple unicorn got her wits back first, and waved them all to the stall with a foreleg. Her words were muffled from behind the glass. They all stepped closer, staring. They were curious. I could see it in their eyes.

I felt myself turning the valve. A shower started raining red from above, painting the yellow tiles of the floor. It was cold, but I didn't complain. I didn't deserve it.

It didn't take long for the red to pool around my feet. It wasn't red anymore, it was dark, black like the void. It climbed up, gulping down my legs. I turned to stare at the horses. They had taken a step back. They were shaken. I could see it in their eyes.

I didn't let myself feel scared. I didn't deserve it.

Something that wasn't the steady drip of the shower made me look ahead. The horses were knocking on the glass. Their mouths were moving. They were scared. I could see it in their eyes.

When it was in the middle of my chest, the shower went mute, tapping down on my head with its contents every few seconds. I closed the valve. The horses weren't knocking anymore. They were banging on the glass. They were desperate. I could see it in their eyes.

I wished they weren't here. They weren't supposed to see this. They didn't deserve it.

The outside view was blocked. The pink mare had climbed on two of the others and was trying her hardest to break the stall open, her hooves hitting the glass with the strength of a jackhammer. Out of all of them, she was crying the hardest, sobbing like an abandoned baby.

I looked into her eyes. They were electric blue. A name came to my mind.

Rose.

I wanted to turn away, but the chains wouldn't let me. I didn't want to think of Rose. I didn't deserve it. There was only one way not to look, not to listen. I had to be alone.

It didn't take long for my lungs to flood. I didn't mind.

I had drowned my soul in blood an eternity ago.

Comments

[Jack Kellar]

Chapter 2, GO!

Before you ask: the last part is in italics for a reason.

[Erebos]

Give me moar

[Jack Kellar]

644894 Nice to know that! Max is a very complicated character to write, and it makes me happy to know I'm up for the challenge.

[Mr Aquila]

Very good
Keep up the good work

[t0buscusfan6161]

When will you launch the next chapter?

[Jack Kellar]

773344 When it's done.

TO EVERYONE
Take this as your cue. I don't like being rushed.
If someone asks this again, well... Expect a 1-day delay on posting for each time it's asked.

[onsholo]

fucking shit luna stop fucking up in every game crossover