Streets of Sin

by Jarvy Jared

XII: Awoken

If Minx could gather her thoughts, she would have thought it strange that these kidnappers would tie her up to a pole and leave her there unguarded. Unfortunately, her head was busy recovering from whatever had knocked her out, and a throbbing headache kept her from thinking coherently.

Opening her eyes, she found that her vision was blurred. For a moment, she panicked, as she could see nothing in front of her. Gradually, though, after a little blinking, her vision began to adjust to the room. She found she was not blind, but rather, in a small compartment.

It was dimly lit. Looking up, she followed the light source, and found a set of open grates at the top of the left wall. The moon shone down through the opening, revealing a concrete, grey floor and similarly colored walls.

Wiggling a bit, she found her binds—ropes held her down by her torso and pressed her back against the post. They held her tight, and any movement made her wince in slight pain. She guessed that they had somehow burned her, likely through the method of tying her up. Still, though, that didn’t entirely cease her struggle. Shuffling around, she managed to gather a nearly 270 degree view of the room. She figured out that the pole was in the center of the room, and, after trying to tug it, found that it was rooted deeply in place.

Am I in a jail cell?

It seemed like a perfectly sound guess. With these grey walls, and one opening, it was easy to surmise that conclusion. However, since there appeared to be no door, or sliding cell door, she doubted she was actually in one. The room was more akin to a cellar, albeit a small one.

There weren’t even beds nor toilets. If this was a jail cell, it was a poor one.

She gingerly pressed her head against the post. She let out a sigh as she realized she had not suffered anything more than a headache. In fact, she guessed she had received no physical punishment, following her blacking out.

That means there’s still a chance for me to escape. All I have to do is figure out a way to remove these ropes…

Tight as they were, ropes were still ropes. And while her body remained stuck against the pole, she found that she could at least wiggle a bit, even shift her position. Grunting and groaning, she managed to loosen the bonds just enough to turn a bit.

She first saw her shadow, cast by the moon. Something about it seemed off. As she turned her head, trying to figure out why, she saw another shadow merge with it. She frowned. Was it the pole’s?

But the pole’s shadow should have been longer, simply because it was physically larger. And this shadow looked… smaller, somehow.

Slowly her mind, tired as it was, began to connect the dots. She swiveled her head around.

Minx sucked in her breath. There, tied against the same pole, was a young filly. A little stub of a horn protruded from her head. Her mane, a combination of pink and light purple, was disheveled and thrown all over the place. In the moon’s glow, Minx could see the faint markings of a bruise at the back of the filly’s head.

“H-hey!” Minx’s voice was hoarse, her throat dry. “A-are you alright?”

She received no answer. Her eyes widened. Was she… was she…

Desperately, Minx began to work her ropes. She tugged and shifted around, ignoring the burning of the fibers against her belly. “Got to get free!” she whispered fiercely to herself.

She felt resistance from the rope, pulling her back. That filly must be tied up in the same rope! There was no time to question if she was hurting the filly further. She continued her task, pulling and pushing the rope, until there was a sizable gap between her torso and the first coil.

She sucked in her stomach and got to her hooves. It was a tight squeeze, but she managed to pull herself out. The rope rubbed against her fur; she winced as she felt some fur being torn away. Eventually, she pulled her entire body out of the rope’s taught grasp.

The moment she got to her hooves, she nearly collapsed. She hadn’t realized how weak she was. How long had she been unconscious? Had she even been fed? She shook her head, and immediately regretted it. The room spun and twirled sporadically. She reeled, falling back onto her haunches, clutching her head. She closed her eyes and waited for things to settle.

After a moment, things finally did. Minx was careful not to jerk so much as she resumed her stance. Slowly and carefully, she trotted over to the young filly, placing a hoof on her face.

She felt slow, but steady breath come from the filly’s nostrils.

Minx nearly sighed. She was alive! And by the looks of it, the only injury she had sustained was the bruise on her head.

“Hey! Wake up!” she whispered fiercely. She shook the girl hard, but the filly did not respond at all. She’s really out of it!

Shaking her probably won’t help her out, though. What should I do?

She reached down and undid the ropes, before placing them to the side. Her knees wobbled a little. Have to find an exit.

She looked back up at the slit above. Even if she threw the rope up there and managed to wrap it around something, the opening was much too narrow for anypony to fit through. Not even the small filly had a chance of getting out that way. The four walls offered a little bit more, but in their greyness and simpleness, she could see no means of escaping. Nevertheless, she searched them tirelessly.

They were all flat and solid; knocking on them, she found that the sound was much too concentrated to have a hidden room behind them. Even with her strongest kick, she doubted she would be able to break them. Cobwebs gathered in the above corners, while dust piles grew in the lower sides. How long had they been in here? How long had she been in here?

She grit her teeth. No! There had to be a way. Somehow, she and the filly had ended up in here. That meant that there simply had to be an exit!

The floor was her next choice. Bending down so that her muzzle nearly grazed the cold stone, she searched every bit of it. Frustrated exhales blew away small mounds of dust, making her cough and grunt in annoyance. But the floor yielded nothing to her investigation; not a single plate, nor stone, nor tile, nor block, was loose. If she tried to stomp her way out, she’d likely end up with bruised hooves than an opening.

But she wouldn’t give up; she couldn’t. There had to be something, anything, that could help her—help them—escape. She walked back over to the pole, trying to prod it. It didn’t move, so she moved to the corners of the room. She clambered up the sides, hoping to see some sort of crack in the intersections; but she found none.

In a last ditch effort, she tried to call for somepony. “Help! Anypony!” Yet her voice was weak, and she coughed hard. Red splattered on the floor. She collapsed, feeling suddenly cold and tired. She hugged her hooves to herself, trying to keep in the warmth. Exhaustion flooded her every sense.

No one came.

Minx could make an accurate guess as to how much time had passed. White, early-morning sunlight glowed through the gap above. It was a harsh light; she struggled to effectively adjust.

As soon as her vision settled, she noticed several things. First, the unicorn filly was awake, and staring at her with concerned, emerald eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked, tilting her head. The movement visibly pained her.

Minx grunted, “Yeah, I’m fine. How are you holding up, kid?”

The filly pointed to the back of her head. “Well, my bruise is still there, if that’s what you’re asking.” Her voice softened. “You don’t… you don’t know where that came from, do you?”

The burgundy mare shook her head. “Sorry, kid. No idea. I saw it well before you awoke.”

Minx got to her hooves. Her blackout had ended up lending her a bit extra energy; her previous exhaustion was all but gone. “How long was I out?”

The filly rolled her shoulders in a shrugging manner. “I don’t know; I only got up a few minutes ago. I was about to wake you, but then you woke up yourself.”

She nodded, then her knees wobbled. Suddenly she was aware of how hungry and thirsty she was. The filly quickly noticed. “Oh! You look super weak!”

Minx tried for a grin. “It’s… it’s alright. I’ll manage.” Inwardly, she remembered the countless times she had been on stakeout, all those days she had abstained from eating in order to draw out a certain pony. Yet, even as she remembered this, she realized that she had always been in control of the amount of sustenance she had before each assignment. She had always had enough to keep her body from collapsing on assignment. Here and now, though, without any idea on how much time had passed, or how much energy she had expended, she was at a real risk for starving or growing dehydrated.

She pushed those thoughts away. “We should focus on finding a way out of here for now. Let’s hope something in the room has changed.”

The filly didn’t look at all fooled by Minx’s forced smile, but did not object. She stepped away, allowing Minx to look around.

Minutes passed. She found nothing new around the room. There were neither cracks in the walls, nor signs of any openings. Once again, the gap remained above, unreachable, and unescapable. Her muzzle scrunched up in disgust and frustration, but not in resignation.

“Come on, come one. There’s gotta be a way out of here, somehow…” She looked back at the filly. “Hey, do you think you could use a See-Through-Walls spell?”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “N-no, I don’t think Twilight’s even taught me that yet. Not that I can do much with my magic to begin with…”

Minx frowned. Twilight? Wonder who that is. “I guess that makes sense. You’re just a kid and all.”

She looked back up at the grate. She then sat back down on her haunches.

“What are you doing?” asked the filly.

“Trying something.” Minx cupped her forehooves around her face like a cone. “Hey! Can anypony hear me?” she yelled. Her voice echoed around the interior of the room, and she hoped that somehow, it would escape through the gap and find its way into somepony’s ear.

But her hopes seemed in vain, as no pony arrived to investigate. She tried again: “Hey! Come help us! We’re trapped in this room with no exit!”

No one.

“Help! Somepony, please!”

Nothing.

“Guh!” She slammed her hooves on the floor in anger. “What the hell? Where the hell are we?”

“In a room?”

“No, I mean, where are we, that there are no other ponies to hear me?” She shook her head. “The last thing I remember was being in Manehattan. That must have been a few days ago. How far were we transported out, if we even moved out?”

“Maybe we’re just in a secluded area of Manehattan?” the filly suggested. “I mean, I don’t know that much about the city compared to Opa, but it’s still possible.”

“Maybe.” She decided to ask her about this “Opa” later. Minx turned and faced the filly. “Look, kid, I know we just met, and under strange circumstances, but if you could lend a helping hoof, we might be able to find a way out.”

The filly nodded. Her look was long and tired, and she seemed famished. Yet her willing attitude gave Minx a small amount of courage. “I’ll try my best, miss…”

“Minx.” She managed a small smile. “Since it seems we’ll be stuck here for a time, how about you tell me your name?”

“Okay, Minx. I’m Sweetie Belle.”

The burgundy earth mare was about to respond, perhaps with a compliment about how fitting Sweetie’s name was, but she was suddenly cut off by a low hum.

Turning, they were suddenly greeted by a rich, blue light. Minx recognized it as teleportation. She could see the slim form of a unicorn shrouded by the light, yet did not know if it was male or female. Judging by a material that was flowing behind it, it had to be wearing some sort of garment. A cone-shaped object topped its head; a hat, most likely, though Minx did not know what kind.

Weirdly, its mouth appeared to be moving, as if trying to speak.

Then, just as suddenly, it vanished.

“Minx?” The burgundy mare turned, finding Sweetie staring at the spot with wide eyes. “What was that?”

“Teleportation,” Minx said. “Though, by the looks of it, a failed one.”

She stepped a bit closer to the spot, thinking deeply. Then, all of a sudden, the hair on the back of her neck rose. She jumped away on instinct, just as another flash of light appeared, blinding the both of them.

But this flash was even briefer than the others, and faded just as Minx landed. The mare quickly recovered from her jump, turning and preparing to attack whatever had come through.

Yet she found out that there was nothing to attack. At least, nothing that seemed threatening.

“What the…?”

She and Sweetie slowly approached the several objects that lay on the floor. Two bottles of water stood next to a greasy bag. Minx’s stomach recoiled at the sight, while Sweetie only looked confused.

“Food?” she simply asked.

Minx nodded, but held out a hoof to stop Sweetie from reaching the items. “We don’t know if they’re poisoned or not.”

“Fast food? Poisoned? I mean, I know that they’re pretty bad for your health, but I wouldn’t call them poisonous.”

“They could have been infected with cyanide or some other agent,” Minx reminded her.

She scanned the area, seeing that the charred mark had spread a little. “So it was teleported in? Then who was that pony I saw in the flash?” she asked aloud.

“Maybe somepony came to help us,” suggested Sweetie Belle.

Minx shook her head. “Then why not teleport us out of here?”

“Maybe she couldn’t? Like she isn’t strong enough?”

“That certainly is a possibility. Self-teleportation spells take a lot of work to master.” She frowned. “Though, how she was able to transport this here is strange, especially if she can’t teleport us out…”

She dropped her hoof, but motioned for Sweetie to stay back. She began to walk up to the food and drink, sniffing the bag gingerly. The bag, greasy as it was, did not have a poisonous aroma; and the water appeared clean. Nothing seemed out of place.

She opened it up, her confusion growing with each passing second.

“Hayburgers?”

Pulling it out, she saw that indeed, there were two rather juicy looking hayburgers wrapped in a pile of napkins. A few condiment packs were packed with them. There was even two trays packed inside. She pulled them all out, eyebrows raised and jaw slack, placing them on the floor.

Despite her not having a fondness for the greasy food, her stomach was too eager to adhere to what she preferred. She took a small bite of one of the burgers, preparing for in case it had been poisoned.

“Minx!” Sweetie cried, rushing up to her. There was nothing she could do, though; now she had to wait.

Minx chewed slowly, before swallowing. For a few seconds, she waited for any sign of malcontent in her body. When no sign showed up, she grabbed one of the waters and downed a quick gulp, swishing it in her mouth before swallowing. Again, she waited; and again, there was no sign.

She turned to Sweetie. “I… I think it’s safe.”

Sweetie stepped closer. She appeared hesitant, yet also hungry at the same time. Choosing not to use her magic, she physically picked up her own burger, cautiously taking a bite. Her eyes widened. “Hey, this is pretty good!”

Minx nodded, though inwardly she was unsure. Still, she reasoned, she only had to survive long enough to escape; and so long as the food wasn’t killing her at the moment, she decided that eating it was not much of a risk.

She continued eating.

Between bites and gulps, the two talked; mostly about anything that came to mind. It seemed that talking calmed their nerves, and for this, Minx was especially grateful. Despite wanting to continue investigating a way to escape, she realized that doing so would make the both of them panic, and that would in turn ruin any chance of them finding a way out.

What came up first was how the two of them had ended up here. Minx shuddered as she recounted her experience. Now, as she recollected it, she realized that she must have been hallucinating. “It might have had to do with the building’s atmosphere,” she said to Sweetie.

The filly frowned thoughtfully. “You think it was magic or something?”

“Hallucinatory magic?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m pretty good at seeing when magic is being used. And there were no tell-tale signs of magic occurring.”

“Maybe it was gas! Like a gas leak!”

“Maybe. I’ll have to look into that later on. What about you? How’d you end up here?”

Sweetie briskly went through the details. Vividly, she recounted the hotel and the canister that crashed through the window, though she confessed she couldn’t remember much after. “I think I got hit in the back of the head and blacked out.”

“That would explain the bump back there.” Minx’s brow furrowed. The Greenwood Hotel, she had thought, had long been secured. How a kidnapper managed to get past their watchful gaze made no sense. “It’s strange that it was the two of us that ended up here, and nopony else. I wonder if there’s a special reason for that?”

“Maybe they wanted to hear you sing?” As Minx raised an eyebrow, Sweetie pointed a hoof at her flank. “Your Cutie Mark.”

Minx barked out a laugh. “Ha, ha, funny. I haven’t sung in years.”

“Really?” Sweetie’s eyes widened. “But that’s your special talent! Why wouldn’t you want to sing?”

“Let’s just say I found something more… enlightening.” She noted the excitement in the filly’s voice. “How about you? Do you like singing?”

Sweetie blushed furiously. “W-well, I mean… I like it, but I don’t like doing it in front of big crowds and all.”

That surprised Minx. For a filly as lively and cheerful as Sweetie Belle, she expected her to willingly be in the spotlight. “Well, have you considered taking music lessons? Maybe getting out there in the world? Getting used to all the attention?”

“Actually…” Sweetie smiled a little, before lighting her horn. “My big sister pitched in and got me this ticket!”

She pulled the ticket out of her poofy mane. Minx raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been hiding it in your hair this whole time?”

Sweetie blushed. “I didn’t have a bag at the moment, and I kinda forgot to ask Rarity for one… Plus, my friend Pinkie stores stuff in her mane all the time.”

“That sounds dirty.”

“You’d be surprised at how clean her mane is.”

She floated the ticket over, and Minx read the inscription. When she had finished reading, she looked back over at Sweetie Belle, impressed. “Tickets to ‘The Angel of Manehattan’ herself? I’m impressed. Not many ponies are able to get such an audience. How did your sister manage to acquire this?”

“She didn’t do it alone,” Sweetie responded. “She actually had some help from Opa!”

“‘Opa?’”

Sweetie blushed again. “Oh, right, you don’t know him. That’s just something I call him because his name doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.” She gained a slightly mischievous glint. “You might have heard of him, even though he doesn’t really like being known. The author? Opacare Prose?”

The water the burgundy mare had been drinking suddenly and violently spewed out; luckily, she was looking away when it did, meaning that the only thing that got wet was the floor. She coughed. “I’m sorry, did you say Opacare Prose?”

Sweetie recoiled in surprise at Minx’s initial reaction. “Y-yeah, I did.”

“As in, the Opacare Prose?”

“Well, who else has that name?”

Minx blinked, unable to speak coherently. Her lips flapped wordlessly. Sweetie cocked her head in an adorable manner. “Uh, Minx? You okay?”

The mare shook her head to clear her mind, focusing onto the filly in front of her. “You’re serious?” she asked, voice low and soft.

Sweetie, after a moment to register her words, nodded with an innocent and earnest smile.

Minx let out an amused sigh. “Wow… just wow…” She chuckled, chortled; then she laughed, and her laugh was so rich and vibrant that one would not think she had been exhausted from this whole ordeal.

Sweetie, still slightly confused, asked Minx once again if she was okay.

“I’m fine! Really!” the mare responded between laughs. “It’s just…” She managed to quiet down, but the amused smile remained on her lips. “The first pony I see after waking up—a filly, nonetheless—turns out to be one of the ponies who found Opacare Prose!” The sheer coincidence was lost on Sweetie, but not to Minx; the very thought was so bright that it improved her entire mood.

At least, for the moment.

Sweetie did look like she wanted to question further, but she seemed content to letting Minx find this whole thing funny. “So, you know Opa? How?”

“Well, aside from his books…” Her smile grew sly. “We did work together,” she added, thinking that the filly would have no idea what she was talking about.

Her smile gradually fell, though, as the filly stared at her with wide, surprised eyes. Sweetie suddenly pushed the food away from her, as if she had lost the rest of her appetite.

“Sweetie? What’s wrong?”

“Y-you worked with Opa?”

Minx nodded, cocking her head and frowning. “Yes, is there a problem?”

“P-problem? N-no! I mean, no problem, besides the fact that—” She gulped, looking at Minx like she was a predatory wolf. “That-that—”

Seeing the look of fright on the filly’s face filled Minx with concern. She decided it would be best if she kept her distance.

“Minx?” Sweetie suddenly asked.

“Yes?”

“Are… are you a bad pony?”

Minx looked down at the huddled form in front of her, noticing a subtle change in the filly’s eyes. Something close to desperation shimmered in those jade orbs. “I… I don’t like to think I am,” Minx responded softly.

“… Opa… Opa thinks he’s a bad pony.”

“Why is that?”

“Because of what he did… what he did when… when he worked with you…”

At first, Minx was uncertain of what Sweetie was referring to. Soon, though, as the seconds passed, she realized what Sweetie meant. Yet the realization was not met with anger, or denial. It was met with dull acceptance.

Minx sighed, hunching over. “Oh.” What else could she say? If the filly knew, and if Opacare was talking to her about this, then she had nothing to say to refute the claim.

“But…” Minx looked back up as Sweetie’s soft voice cut through her thoughts. “But I think he’s a good pony, deep down.” She looked at Minx. “Did… did you think he was a good pony? Back when he worked with you?”

“I did.”

“Do you still think that?”

“I’m not sure.” Minx’s voice grew low. “Considering how I haven’t really interacted with him in years… I’m not sure what to make of him.”

Sweetie nodded. “I… I still think he’s good. I’ve seen him do some really good things, Minx. I don’t think anypony that willing to be good and to make up for what he did in the past, is at all bad.” She smiled. “And… if you worked with him, maybe you helped him realize he could do good.”

“Maybe.” She hadn’t considered that as a possibility. Had she affected Opacare’s decision making?

“And if that’s the case,” Sweetie continued, her smile wide and honest, “then I don’t think you’re a bad pony either.”

Minx found herself smiling as well. “Now I see why they call you Sweetie.”

They ate in relative comfort, their smiles hopeful, the bleak situation pushed aside for now. And the light from the opening above shared that hope—temporary as it was, brief as it forever needed to be; but that faint chance was all that was needed, for them to enjoy each other’s company.

The unicorn mare wanted to speak up. She knew she ought to; she knew she had to. But she didn’t. Her mouth and jaw remained shut, as if glued, such that her lower lip shook, and tears gathered at the edges of her eyes, born of frustration; and she wiped away when the others weren’t looking.

The two stallions talked in low voices, conversing about the treatment of their prisoners. Prisoners. The mare never thought she’d ever have to use that word to describe somepony else, let alone two ponies. It didn’t help that one of those ponies, those prisoners, was a filly; an innocent, caught up in a much larger scheme.

Yet the stallions cared not for the age nor status of their prisoners. It had taken a lot of insisting by the mare to convince them to give them food; and even then, all she could convince them to get was simple fast food. Hardly delicacies, hardly nutritious; hardly merciful.

At least they won’t die here. It was a paradoxically bleak and hopeful thought; and she struggled to adhere to its tempting promise.

She pulled her hat down low, fuming silently, still frustrated with the situation. Why had she been drawn into this? How could she stay? She knew she should protest loudly; but she also knew of the consequences if they did.

For perhaps the first time of her life, she was thinking for the safety of others, for the lives of other ponies. She was placing their survival above hers. To do so, she had to remain silent.

“Hey, why the long face?” The mint stallion turned to her, his face still masked by that horrific mask, body covered in that strange outfit. “They got their food, just like you requested.”

She didn’t answer. She glared at him with all the hate she could muster. He chuckled. “Very well, stay silent. To be honest, I think I like you better this way.”

He and his companion walked off; perhaps to converse more, or to relay another mysterious message. She had no idea.

She sighed, thinking back to the time of a few months ago, before this whole deal with the author came to light. Back when she was in Ponyville, and was rescued—she willingly used that word, for she had indeed been in a dire circumstance—by a certain, gifted unicorn of lavender hues. That Amulet was the worst thing to have ever happened to me.

Her eyes closed shut. And now I’m part of another dangerous situation, one that I once again have no control over. Or hardly any control, at least.

She brought her blue hoof up and wiped at her purple eyes. Her gaze drifted over to the corner, where her cape of stars lay. She took off her hat and levitated it over to the same spot.

I don’t deserve either of these anymore.

She glanced back at the wall, knowing that the prisoners were behind it. From the sound of it, they hadn’t yet given up hope. Blind optimism was keeping them afloat in this treacherous sea of lies and mystique.

She sighed again, wishing she had never gotten involved. But so long as those two stallions had power over her… well, the best she could do was hope along with the prisoners.

Hope for a rescue.

Hope for an escape.

Hope that her Greatness and Powerfulness would return, and she would leave this accursed life, this accursed association, forever.

She doubted that last one could come true. But she nonetheless hoped.

Trixie turned, walked down the narrow corridor, to her similarly narrow resting place, and did just that; rested.