The Ghost Of Me

by Bluecatcinema

I Am Machine

"Ten years in my family's basement." Caboose shook his head. "That must've really sucked."

"I'll bet compared to my cell, that place was a real dump." Pike mused.

"You have no idea." Black nodded. "I felt like a caged animal. It was cold, dark, drafty, and I was fed only the bare minimum of slop necessary to survive. Some days, I felt like I was doomed to stay there forever, to rot in that cell until there was nothing but a pile of bones left to prove I was ever there..." He shook his head. "No offense, Caboose, but it didn't take me long to despise your brothers for what they did to me."

"None taken." Caboose shrugged. "My brothers get that a lot."

"I'll admit, it sounds a tad unseemly." Fletcher declared. "Private citizens have no right to hold others prisoner, no matter what they've done..."

"...Excuse me, have you met the Napoleons?" Caboose deadpanned.

"Excluding you, no." Fletcher admitted.

"Then you should know that my brothers are always locking up dangerous stallions." Caboose declared. "For the good of all."

"I see where you're coming from, but morally, I don't agree with it." Fletcher declared. "They have not been sanctioned to detain anypony."

"Doesn't stop 'em, though..." Caboose smirked.

"Excuse me, can we get back to the main story?" Pike asked. "Not that this doesn't make for fascinating listening, but I'd like for us to stay on-topic."

"Sorry." Caboose said sheepishly.

"Continue." Fletcher added.

"As bad as it was for me, I couldn't help sparing a thought for my Taskforce buddies early on." Black admitted. "First I betrayed them, then I vanished completely..."

"I can't tell you how worried I was when I realized Black was missing." Armory frowned. "I really assumed the worst. But I could never imagine what was to follow."

Many years ago...

Days after their victory over the Changeling bombers, the Taskforce had attempted to find Black so they could try to convince him to return with them or, as Ballista put it, drag him back kicking and screaming if he refused.

They had heard about the attack on the hive, and, under the guise of assessing the damages done to the hive (under Celestia's orders, they claimed), Ballista and co. went around the territory, making innocuous inquiries as to what had become of 'Red Eclipse', hoping to get an inkling as to where he could have gone.

Unfortunately, their search came up empty. On the third day, they regrouped just outside of the forest.

"So we couldn't find anything on him?" Ballista asked the group at large.

"Not a thing." Master Mind sighed.

"It's as if he just... vanished." Incognito added.

"Rrf..." Titan shook his head sadly.

"Where could he be, though?" Armory asked. "Where?"

There was a rustling sound in the nearby bushes.

"Who's there?!" Ballista yelled. "Show yourself!"

"Of course." Wizel emerged from the bushes.

"A Changeling?" Incognito asked.

"Not just any Changeling." Master Mind noted. "If I recall correctly, this is Wizel Yggdrasil, the Queen's advisor."

"You are correct, sir." Wizel nodded.

"So what are you doing out here, sneaking up on us?" Armory asked.

"I've heard tell of a group who have been asking around the area, interested in the fate of Red Eclipse." Wizel announced. "From what I overheard seconds ago, you are that group."

"And what of it?" Ballista growled.

"Not much." Wizel shrugged. "I just find it surprising that anypony would ever wish to associate with that scoundrel."

"We have our reasons." Armory declared. "I don't suppose you know what became of him? From what we've heard, he was last seen attacking your hive."

"That he was." Wizel nodded.

"And?" Ballista frowned. "Spill it, old timer!"

"Red Eclipse is no longer in a position to threaten us." Wizel announced.

"What, you mean like... he's dead?" Armory quivered.

"Alas, no." Wizel frowned. "But I can safely say he is far from this hive, and any other Changelings he could threaten."

"Oh, really?" Ballista glanced at Wizel suspiciously. "You can 'safely say' that he is 'far' from this hive?"

"Ballista..." Armory glared at him.

"That's right." Wizel declared. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Oh no..." Ballista shook his head, keeping his suspicious look. "I'm just curious about how you can safely say that somepony is a good distance from here..."

"Just intuition, I guess." Wizel said firmly.

"Is that so?" Ballista frowned. "Maybe you know more than you're tellin', old timer."

"And what if I was?" Wizel said flatly.

"Well, maybe I'd employ... stronger measures in order to get to the bottom of things." Ballista growled.

"That almost sounds like a threat." Wizel said coldly. "You would do well to watch your step. I have powerful friends, you know..."

"So do we." Ballista snarled.

"Come on, Ballista." Armory stepped forward. "This isn't helping. We got a little intel, and we should be grateful for it."

"...Very well." Ballista huffed. He turned to Wizel. "Thank you for your time."

"My pleasure." Wizel nodded.

"And, er... good luck with your new King." Incognito added.

"I doubt we'll be needing luck." Wizel smiled.

As the Taskforce left the hive, Armory continued fretting.

"What did he mean 'far from this hive'?" He asked. "What happened to Black?"

"Take it easy, mate." Ballista told him. "We'll get to the bottom of this..." He then frowned. "Unfortunately, I don't think we're going to get much out of that old codger."

"You think he might have had something to do with Black's disappearance?" Incognito asked.

"I don't know." Ballista admitted, "You can never tell with Changelings. They're a very unpredictable lot."

"I just hope Black's okay, wherever he is..." Armory sighed.

"We all do, pal." Incognito nodded.

"As abrasive as he's been to myself and Incognito, he is still one of us." Master Mind admitted. "Even if he has lost his way."

"What's lost can be found." Ballista declared. "We just have to know where to look..."

"Roo..." Titan whimpered, as the group dejectedly head back to the base.

What none of them knew at the time was just how far away Black was. He was still stuck in his cell under the Napoleons' mansion.

'How could it have come to this?' He scowled. 'Not so long ago, I was on top of the world. I was my own boss. I answered to nopony, and could do whatever I wanted. But now look at me: Locked up in some basement, like a rat in a cage.'

He looked downwards, glancing at his bound hooves.

'Maybe sticking with the Taskforce wasn't so bad after all...' Black frowned. 'Hell, maybe if I had only stuck with them, maybe I wouldn't be in this mess...'

Black's face then hardened, his hooves clenching.

'No. The Taskforce would've just been another cage... Besides, this isn't a military operation. It's a bunch of pasta-munchin' crooks. They'll make a mistake sooner or later, and then I'm outta here...'

The room went silent, as Black let out a frustrated sigh.

'Anytime now...'

Back at Taskforce headquarters, Elite was informed of what Wizel had said.

"So he said Black is definitely alive?" He asked.

"That's right, boss." Ballista declared. "I had a feeling he knew more about it, but he wouldn't tell us any more."

"If Black's out there somewhere, we'll find him." Elite declared. "I'll send word out to all our foreign operatives. They're bound to find some trace of Black.

"Good thinkin'." Ballista smiled.

"Can I do anything?" Armory asked hopefully.

"You can run the scheduled maintenance on the Pipeline." Elite declared. "We need to make sure those cells are in top condition."

"Oh. Okay..." Armory's face fell.

"I know you want to help find Black, but right now, you're needed here." Elite said kindly. "We can't afford to lose another of our best operatives. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I understand." Armory sighed.

"Excellent." Elite smiled. "I know I can always count on you."

"Sure, whatever you say..." Armory walked out of the room.

In spite of being despondent over his friend's absence, Armory knew he had to focus if he was going to do his job right. That job being to run checks over each and every one of the cells within the Pipeline, making sure each of them was doing their job and holding their occupants tight.

"Locking mechanism seems fully functional on cells G through J." He mused. "Just have to take care of the rest..."

"Well, well. Heinrich Armory, as I live and breathe." Pike smirked. "It's nice to finally have a visitor. Hadn't had one all month."

"Be quiet, Mr. Redfield." Armory scowled, not bothering to face him as he ran his checks on the cell. "I'm in no mood for your crap."

"Wow, who went and crapped on your strudel?" Pike frowned. "In all the time I've known you, you never seemed the pissy type."

"Well, I haven't been having the best couple of days lately." Armory snarled. "And you are not helping matters."

"...Does this have something to do with Black, by any chance?" Pike asked.

"...What makes you say that?" Armory looked up, glaring at him.

"Call it a wild guess." Pike declared. "Something's gone wrong, hasn't it? Did something happen to Black?"

"I don't see how it;s any of your business." Armory scoffed. "I don't even know why you care-"

"It's Project: Argo, isn't it?" Pike suddenly declared, now scowling. "That stupid project's finally gone and sent him over the edge, huh?"

Armory went rigid as he gaped at Pike.

"Hold up... you know about Project: Argo?" Armory gasped.

"That's right." Pike nodded. "That little project to turn Black from misunderstood but loyal soldier into a heartless sociopath killing machine."

"How long have you known about it?" Armory asked. "In fact, who told you about it?"

"It doesn't matter how I know or how long I've known it, but that is what happened, isn't it?" Pike growled. "Well, is it?"

Armory frowned, understandably hesitant to just talk with the guy who had tried to kill Black several times in the past... but then again, he was in a cell. It wasn't as if he could do anything to actually harm him or anypony else.

"...Yes, that is what has happened." Armory shook his head in frustration. "Elite said that Black didn't want to come back. According to him, Black decided to leave the Taskforce and ride along with this bunch of Changeling-hating thugs. Even changed his name to 'Red Eclipse'. He's hurt quite a few ponies... and now, he's gone. None of us know where he is right now."

"Is that right?" Pike frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Really?" Armory asked. "I mean, I didn't think you cared about him. He did put you in that cell, as I recall."

"Well, it's complicated." Pike sighed. "But believe it or not, I've actually come to respect Black. I first thought of him as just another lackey for the RDL... but he revealed himself to be a stallion unlike any other."

"That's Black for you." Armory gave a sad smirk. "He was the finest stallion I've ever known..." His smirk disappeared. "And now... he's gone..." He felt a twinge of anger. "All because of Argo..."

"I understand how you must feel." Pike grunted. "When I heard from a 'reliable' source about Project: Argo... well, I was pissed. I may be a killer for hire, and maybe a terrorist to some, but I would never stoop as low as turning a good stallion like Black into... whatever they want him to be."

"You... really mean that?" Armory asked, surprised by the sincere concern on Pike's face.

"Yeah... yeah, I do." Pike nodded. "You know, whenever I saw Black... I saw myself, a good stallion who was rough around the edges. He reminded me of myself before..." He frowned, lowering his head. "Before I lost everything... before I fell into that crummy life of mine." He glanced back at Armory. "I had hoped that Black wouldn't give into that same darkness I succumbed to a long time ago. I didn't want him to turn out to be some poor old twisted stallion like me... but it seems like I was wrong in the end."

"So was I." Armory sighed. "Black, he's... he's my best friend. I should have done something to help him."

"Don't beat yourself up." Pike comforted him. "Trust me, I tried to tell him myself that he shouldn't go down this path, tried to remind him of his equinity. Unfortunately, he was already too far gone. We might not even be having this conversation if I was able to reason with him. But I don't think anypony could have helped him, not even you... no offense."

"And now Black is... gone." Armory declared.

"So... you guys have no idea where he went?" Pike asked.

"No..." Armory murmured. "From what we understand, Black is still alive... but we believe that somepony might have taken him..." Armory felt a twinge of fear. "You don't think it was the Forefathers, do you?"

"Doubtful." Pike snorted. "If they couldn't snag Black with my help, there's no way they'd be able to take him in themselves."

"I guess you have a point." Armory nodded. "But still, we have no way of knowing where he is, let alone how to help him."

"Don't give up." Pike urged. "Black's still out there. Tough as he is, I'd wager nopony can hold him for long. And with friends like you looking for him, I doubt it'll be long before he's back here again."

"I guess you're right." Armory admitted. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but... thanks, Pike. I appreciate you talking to me like that."

"No problem." Pike shrugged. "It's just nice to have a normal conversation for once. If it's not the Forefathers and their talk about taking over Equestria, it's your guys and their interrogations."

"Well, you can't blame us, can you?" Armory pointed out.

"Guess not." Pike shrugged. "But maybe if they were all as friendly as you, I might be willing to open up more."

"I'll keep that in mind." Armory nodded, his work complete. "See ya."

"Drop by any time." Pike smiled.

As Armory left the Pipeline, he ran into Ballista.

"Oh... Ballista." Armory deadpanned.

"Armory." Ballista grunted. "What were you doing just now?"

"Nothing." Armory frowned. "I was just checking the cells. Seeing if they needed any repairs."

"Oh, so you getting friendly with Mr. Redfield was 'checking the cells' was it?" Ballista scowled. "Because that's what it looked like to me."

"And what if it was?" Armory asked. "Pike actually seems like a decent guy."

"'Decent'?" Ballista spat. "He's an agent of the Forefathers, in case you'd forgotten."

"Really?" Armory growled. "Well, that agent of the Forefathers happens to agree with me on how Project: Argo is an asinine idea. And if even our enemy thinks that way, then that has to mean something is wrong with it."

"Oh, please, as if I care about his opinions!" Ballista snarled. "That son of a draft horse had no business knowing about the project! It was a miracle that Black took him in before he could tell anypony else!"

"Well, maybe Pike didn't ask about the project just to tell his superiors about it." Armory challenged. "Maybe he asked because he was concerned about Black... just as I was!"

"Well, there is nothing to be concerned about!" Ballista yelled.

"Are you BUCKIN' dense?!" Armory scowled. "In case you've forgotten, Black is missing! We have no idea where he is! We have no idea who has him!"'

"Well, it isn't my fault!" Ballista scowled. "If Black had stuck to the plan, maybe-"

"Oh no..." Armory cut him off, livid. "He might have gone rogue on us, but only because you drove him to this point. Both you and Elite, with this Faust-damn project! Black might be dead because of you!"

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" Ballista growled. "Project: Argo is for the good of everypony!"

"Everypony expect Black, that is." Armory sneered.

"Why, you-" Ballista scowled.

"Don't pretend that everything Black's done lately isn't a direct cause of your little project." Armory snarled. "We both know it is."

"You don't know anything!" Ballista roared.

"I know you ruined a good stallion." Armory declared. "And I'll never let you forget it."

"Don't you talk to me like that!" Ballista roared. "I'm still your superior officer. I demand respect!"

"What little respect I had for you is gone." Armory turned and stormed off.

Over in Elite's office, Elite was busy making calls about finding Black.

"Chase down any lead, no matter how small." Elite told his contact. "We must find him."

Suddenly, Elite's office door was kicked open, and Armory stormed in.

"Elite, we need to talk!" Armory demanded.

"...I'm going to have to call you back." Elite declared, as he hung up his communicator, and glared at Armory. "Armory, what is the meaning of this?!"

"You wanna know something, sir?" Armory glared. "I have been biting my tongue ever since I heard about Project: Argo. I suffered in silence as I saw Black turn into this thing you and Ballista wanted him to be! And now, he is missing!"

"I am aware of that, Armory!" Elite growled. "But that does not give you the right to just barge in-"

"To hell with my rights!" Armory snarled. "What about Black's? He trusted you, Elite! He looked up to you and did everything you asked of him! And how do you repay him? By turning him into a monster! Well, now look what your and Ballista's project has done!"

"Please, calm down." Elite urged.

"Calm?" Armory growled. "Don't you tell me to be calm! You're just as bad as Ballista!"

"Don't presume to know me." Elite frowned, hurt by the accusation.

"Why not?" Armory growled. "You're both the same. Amoral, heartless slime, willing to destroy a good stallion's life, all in the name of protecting Equestria."

"Armory, don't-" Elite growled.

"And look what your deeds have sowed." Armory growled. "You turned Black against us."

"I didn't-" Armory started.

"You turned him into a monster." Armory continued.

"No, I-" Elite shook his head.

"And now, he may be rotting in some pit somewhere!" Armory spat. "All because you wanted the perfect soldier!"

"You don't think I know that?!" Elite roared, slamming his metal hoof into his desk.

Armory flinched, having never seen the usually composed director so irate.

"You think I wanted this to happen to Black?" Elite snarled. "No! If anything, this is the LAST thing I wanted to happen! Ballista assured me over and over that Black was going to be fine! That his project would not result in Black's destruction... and now..."

Elite placed his normal hoof to the bridge of his snout, deeply agitated.

"His project..." Armory murmured. "You said his... not ours."

Elite let out a sigh as Armory suddenly came to a chilling realization.

"...Heilige Scheiße." Armory gasped in Germane. "Project: Argo... this was never yours and Ballista's idea, was it? It was just... Ballista..."

"...That is correct." Elite nodded solemnly.

"...Oh Faust." Armory frowned, fraught with guilt. "Elite... I'm... I'm sorry. I had no idea... I've been so horrible to you these past years..."

"No, it's fine, Armory." Elite shook his head. "In a way, I did deserve your ire..."

"I don't understand, sir." Armory grimaced, "Why didn't you say anything? Why pretend that you and Ballista came up with the idea together?"

"Because I knew ponies like you would not have taken kindly to the project." Elite nodded. "I figured that if we each took partial credit, we could both shoulder the blame."

"Which brings me to my next question." Armory frowned. "...If you had no part in the project... then why have you been allowing this project to go on? Especially with what it was doing to Black?"

"Well, at first, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Elite admitted. "It was supposed to be simple. Find a potentially dangerous pony that nopony one would miss, expose him to the harsh reality of our work, and let him become the soldier we needed. No harm, no foul... all we needed was the right candidate..."

"And that was when Black came in, was it?" Armory asked knowingly.

"Indeed." Elite nodded. "Ballista came to me one day with a file detailing the 'perfect candidate', a young soldier who was a loner, and had a history of 'violence'. Ballista believed him to be the one, and I thought so as well."

"Then what happened?" Armory questioned.

"I realized Black wasn't anything like I'd heard he was." Elite smiled. "Instead of a cold, solitary brute, he was a kind and noble soul. I even felt something of a kinship with him."

"I knew you liked Black, but I never considered..." Armory mused.

"It was about right there and then I realized..." Elite gave a deep frown. "I was going to let Ballista and Project: Argo turn this great stallion into a cold-blooded murderer. And everything that I'd come to like about him would just fade away."

"Then why didn't you do anything?" Armory glared. "If you felt this way, why did you let it get this far?"

"What was I supposed to say to Ballista?" Elite sighed. "He had been working towards this project for a long time, hoping it would allow us to finally have an edge against the Forefathers. I couldn't just tell him to scrap it all because I felt it was wrong, especially after the support I gave him beforehoof. So I kept my objections silent, hoping that Ballista's project wouldn't bring harm upon Black."

"Well, clearly that didn't work out." Armory scowled, shaking his head. "All this time, I was hating both you and Ballista... when it should have just been Ballista. I just can't believe Ballista could be this heartless!"

"Now, wait just a moment, Armory." Elite frowned. "I know what you must think of Ballista and Project: Argo. Yes, it is cruel, and it is morally wrong, but Ballista has his reasons for doing this."

"What reasons could he possibly have?" Armory challenged. "What could possibly justify this?"

"I... I cannot say." Elite sighed. "But if you'd only understand where Ballista was coming from, then maybe you could see why he decided to do this. As I always say, it is the story that defines the pony, not the moments."

"I'm not so sure of that myself." Armory frowned.

"On that, we'll have to agree to disagree." Elite declared. "But for now, how about we go for a drink, take our minds off matters?"

"I suppose so." Armory sighed. "It's not like it won't help Black right now..."

"That's the spirit." Elite smiled, as he led Armory out of the room.

Black's disappearance did not only go unnoticed by the Taskforce, as a couple of months later, the Forefathers had begun to take notice of the fact that there hadn't been any sightings of Black, or more 'sudden' dismantlings of their operations, or even more 'sudden' deaths of their operatives.

Gridlock, Loveless, Harlhooves and Ricochet sat in the circle in the Coils, all of them a bit bored. Loveless was rolling slightly back and forth, Gridlock was cleaning a crossbow, Harlhooves was reading a newspaper, and Ricochet was checking a list of reports from the agents.

"Boring. Boring. Boring." RIcochet listed off dully. "Boring. And..."

The other Ouroboros perked up...

"Boring." Ricochet sighed. "Is it just me or did being a secret organization suddenly stop being fun?"

"It has been pretty dull around here lately." Gridlock agreed.

"Indeed." Harlhooves agreed. "So little has happened these last few months, I barely see the point in donning my robes anymore."

"I think I might know the reason why." Loveless declared. "Has anypony noticed that you-know-who hasn't shown his face at all during these past few months?"

"Loveless has a point." Harlhooves mused. "I mean, when was the last time any of us even heard of Black stepping into action? The farthest back I could think of was after that snafu with Mr. Darkside."

"That is very disconcerting." Loveless frowned. "What do you supposed could have happened?"

"Maybe he's gone on a world-wide cruise." Ricochet smirked.

"With our luck, very unlikely." Gridlock growled. "After all the trouble we went through trying to kill him, I don't think he even knows how to die."

"Then what could have happened? I doubt Elite's little group would put their best stallion out to pasture." Harlhooves murmured.

"Honestly, I think that punk is just waiting for us to let our guard down, so he can swoop in and destroy the project you've been working for fifteen years!" Gridlock snarled.

"Come on, dude, let it go!" Ricochet moaned. "You're starting to be a real bummer with that whole 'he destroyed my project' bit."

"...He does have a point, you know." Harlhooves grimaced at Gridlock.

Before Gridlock could get in a vicious retort, Loveless stepped in (or rather, wheeled in).

"In any case, I believe a little digging is in order." Loveless declared. "We should have some of our better informants look into things, see if they can get any inklings as to what's going on."

"Sounds like a plan." Gridlock nodded. "Black may not be on our list anymore, but we should at least know what he's up to. We don't want to risk any of our boys bein' blindsided..."

"On that, we agree." Loveless nodded.

"Let's just hope that nothing nefarious is afoot." Harlhooves mused.

Back over in Bitaly, Black was not taking his imprisonment well. His mane had grown long and scraggly, with a scruffy beard following. His eyepatch was showing signs of wear and tear. The meager food he had been provided was less than filling, so he had lost quite some weight.

While he had never been a prisoner of war back in Saddle Arabia, he had a feeling this was a good representation of what it was like... and he hated it.

'The service in this place stinks.' He thought to himself. 'And the accommodations are lousy, too. No ocean view, no continental breakfast, and no entertainment... Faust, I wish I still had my tape player...'

Black let out a groan. The tape player in question was left back at the abandoned boarding house. Without it, all he had to keep him company was his thoughts... and his thoughts weren't very pleasant.

'So much for Black Knight Paladin.' He thought. 'Locked up in some dingy cell. And to think... certain ponies wanted to make me into a killing machine. They wanted me to be cold and emotionless. Totally ruthless and unstoppable. They tricked me into this, made me into their personal attack dog, a psycho who thought only of himself... and I couldn't even do that right. And now look where all that got me...'

As the months passed, Black continued to degrade mentally. He would imagine sounds that weren't there, believe there were things hiding in the shadows.

Here's to being equine
All the pain and suffering
There's beauty in the bleeding
At least you feel something

One evening, he heard a voice calling his name.

"Black... Black..."

"Who's there?" Black yelled.

From out of the shadows emerged a colt, one who looked just like Black when he was young.

"Who the buck are you?" Black frowned.

"I'm you... or rather, who you used to be." The colt declared.

"My 'inner child', huh?" Black growled. "I don't buy it."

"Maybe this will help." The colt sneered. "You spent the night of White's fifth birthday crying, after dad told you he wished you had wings like White."

"How could you know that?" Black asked, shocked.

"I told you, I'm you... or who you used to be." The colt Black declared. "Remember when you were a colt? You used to dream of being a great soldier? A hero? Well, look at you now. That dream sure went south fast."

"That's the real world, kid." Black said stubbornly.

"What if dad could see you now?" The colt Black glared. "He was right about you all along."

"No, he wasn't." Black grit his teeth.

"He always thought you were a good-for-nothing mistake." The colt Black smirked. "And you've just proven him right."

"Shut up!" Black yelled. "Just shut up!"

Black screwed up his eyes in anger. When he opened them, the colt version of himself was gone.

"What was that?" He asked himself.

I wish I knew what it was like
To care enough to carry on
I wish I knew what it was like
To find a place where I belong, but

I am machine
I never sleep
I keep my eyes wide open
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
I am machine
I never sleep
Until I fix what's broken
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something

A few days later, Black suffered from another apparition: One of his teenage self.

"Hey, buddy." The teen Black growled. "I can't help but notice how pathetic you've become."

"Back off." Black snarled. "I know you're not real. You're just in my head."

"Doesn't mean I'm not right." The teen Black smirked. "Look at you, Black. When you were my age, you were the toughest colt in town. And you only beat up guys who deserved it. And then you went from that to pickin' on Changelings. You wound up no better than all those bullies you clobbered."

"That's your opinion... me." Black spat.

"And now you've wound up here, locked up like some second-rate loser." The teen Black declared. "You make me ashamed to be me."

"I don't care what you think." Black snarled. "I don't care what anypony thinks of me!"

"You used to." Teen Black shook his head, as he faded away. "You used to..."

"Not any more..." Black turned away.

Here's to being equine
Taking it for granted
The highs and lows of living
To getting second chances

One afternoon, just as the sun was setting, Black was faced with a vision of himself as an RDL soldier, even wearing his old uniform.

"Hello, Black." The vision declared. "Remember me? I'm you when you were at your best."

"That's debatable." Black countered.

"I'm the you who knew right from wrong." The soldier said proudly. "Who only killed in defense. Before you became a murderer."

"I... I didn't kill anypony who didn't already have it comin'!" Black stuttered.

"Like you cared about whether or not they deserved it." The soldier Black glared. "It wasn't long before you started killing for the sheer fun of it! You killed in cold blood, without mercy, or restraint! You made a mockery of everything a soldier stands for!"

"What I did, I did for Equestria." Black insisted, his resolve faltering.

"But was it worth it?" Soldier Black asked. "Was it worth Rookie's life?"

"Don't... don't you talk about him." Black began to falter.

"Was it worth abandoning the mare you loved?" Soldier Black demanded. "Worth losing White?"

"No, of course it wasn't..." Black shook his head, barely keeping it together. "But I kept it up anyway. I continued the mission-"

"Until you decided to abandon it all." Soldier Black snarled. "You threw away your mission, your comrades, even your own morals. And where did it get you? Here, rotting like the scum you really are."

"What do you want from me?!" Black's resolve finally broke, and he exploded with anguish. "What?"

"If you really have to ask that question, then I may never have it." Soldier Black shook his head. "All I am is simply the memory of who you once were. Before you descended into madness and brutality. Until you see the truth for yourself, I'll never be a part of you again..."

Soldier Black faded away.

"Yeah, well, good riddance!" Black snarled. "I don't need you any more! I don't need anypony!"

I wish I knew what it was like
To care about what's right or wrong
I wish someone could help me find
Find a place where I belong, but

I am machine
I never sleep
I keep my eyes wide open
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
I am machine
I never sleep
Until I fix what's broken
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something

One particularly cold night, Black tossed and turned in bed, struggling to throw off nightmarish thoughts of his past battles. Suddenly, he sat upright, shocked awake.

"Figures." He muttered to himself. "This stupid head of mine won't even let me sleep any more."

Just then, Black heard a clanking noise.

"Huh?" He turned.

Before Black's eyes, another version of him appeared, leaking oil from his good eye, mouth, nose and ears.

"What the...?" Black gaped.

The apparition approached Black, its skin peeling off to show mechanical parts underneath.

"No!" Black yelped. "Stay back!"

As the mechanical Black came closer, it started coming apart, pieces of its body falling off. It collapsed into a heap just before it reached the real Black. The pieces then vanished.

Black was still leaning against his cell's wall, breathing heavily.

"What... what does this all mean?!" He asked aloud, his mind eroding more and more. "What are you telling to tell me? Just leave me alooooone!!"

It wasn't supposed to be this way
We were meant to feel the pain
I don't like what I am becoming
Wish I could just feel something

I am machine
I never sleep
Until I fix what's broken
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something

One day, Grimoire was called down to Black's cell, having received a rather perturbing message from the guards.

When he finally reached the cell, he could easily see why they were perturbed.

Black's already-unbalanced mind was suitably addled by his solitary confinement, but upon his mental breakdown, Black was acting very unsettling. His body was barely moving, his sole eye wide open and staring into space. Grimoire wasn't even sure if Black knew he was standing in front of him. The creepiest part was Black's head seem to be twitching, like he was some sort of machine, barely functioning.

"My Faust..." Grimoire frowned. He turned to the guards, who had joined his side. "How long has he been like this?"

"For a few months now." The buffalo guard murmured. "It all started one day when he began screaming. He was begging, and pleading, as if somepony was in the cell with him. It went on for a few hours, and just when we were about to go in and shut him up... we found him like this."

"I think he finally snapped, boss." The Earth Pony guard declared.

"I see." Grimoire frowned. "Well, is he at least eating and drinking?"

"Yeah... but that's another thing..." The buffalo declared, as he then slid a tray of food he had through the door.

Black sat there for a moment... before he slowly lowered his head, and began digging into his food, chomping like he was, as they described, a machine.

"Oh my..." Grimoire murmured, "That is disconcerting."

"Boss..." The Earth Pony guard spoke up, as he glanced at Grimoire. "Don't you think we oughta let him go?"

"What?!" The buffalo glared. "Why would we do that?"

"Come on, look at him!" The Earth Pony protested. "He's practically lost it! I don't think he's a threat to anypony anymore!"

"The guy is a genocidal maniac!" The buffalo snarled. "You heard what Wizel said! He was going to wipe the old timer's race off the face of Equestria! If we let him out, he might think about going after us buffaloes!"

"I know you are trying to be equine." Grimoire sighed. "But I did promise Wizel that we would make sure that this stallion would never harm another Changeling ever again. Even if he is like this, there's no telling what he might do if he snaps again."

"But..." The pony let out a sigh. "I guess you're right, sir."

"Well, I thank you both for telling me about this." Grimoire nodded, as he made to leave. "Let me know if there is any further development. I have to go now. I have an appointment with somepony in Equestria."

"Come on, boss, we know you're getting it on with that zebra chick." The buffalo sniggered. "We all know you always had a thing for them."

"Try and tell me stripes aren't hot." Grimoire joked as he departed.

'That's it.' Black thought. 'Leave the broken machine to rust in peace...'

A couple of weeks later, a Forefather agent, an Earth Pony by the name of Weaselly, who was sent out among others to dig up information as to what happened to Black, had finally picked up a trail. After a day or so following it to the source, he reported it directly to Loveless.

"...And that's how it is, sir." The pale brown stallion with yellow eyes, red mane, and a weasel Cutie Mark finished explaining.

"I see." Loveless nodded. "Good work, Weaselly. There'll be a nice little bonus in this for you."

"Sweet." Weaselly grinned. "I'm going to Baltimare this week!"

"You do that, agent." Loveless smirked.

After dismissing the agent, Loveless made his way back to the Coils, where Gridlock, Harlhooves, and Ricochet waited for him, having heard of Weaselly's find.

"So, what did that weasel find?" Gridlock asked.

"Is Black dead or alive?" Harlhooves followed up.

"Is the sum of the square roots of any two sides of an isosceles triangle equal to the square root of the remaining side?" Ricochet blurted out.

Gridlock and Harlhooves slowly turned to Ricochet, glaring at him in disbelief.

"...What? I just got done drinking and watching that Oz film the other agents put on." Ricochet frowned. "I always wonder if that was true."

"It isn't." Harlhooves deadpanned.

"Huh... that scarecrow dude got jiffed." Ricochet huffed.

"Back to the point, men." Gridlock snarled, as he turned to Loveless. "Well, what's happened to Black Knight?"

"Well, Weaselly told me quite a few things." Loveless declared. "First off... Black is still breathing."

"Damn it!" Gridlock cursed.

"However, it seems like Black might not be a problem either way." Loveless continued. "You see, it seems Black Knight has been detained."

"Detained?" Harlhooves frowned. "By whom? Black is supposed to be dead. Equestria would be having a field day if they found out he was still alive."

"Well, that's the thing." Loveless explained. "Black wasn't captured by any government of sorts. He was taken in by a criminal syndicate." He then pulled out a folder, which he had a fellow agent bring him before making his way to the Coils, and opened it, revealing a picture of eight familiar mafia ponies. "These are the Napoleons. The dominant mafia empire within Bitaly."

"...Hold up..." Gridlock frowned. "You mean to tell me that after all the trouble Black caused us, that the mob... the motherbucking mob... managed to capture Black?!"

"Dude, no way!" Ricochet smirked. "That's awesome!"

"I fail to see what's awesome about this." Harlhooves frowned. "I mean, we had Gridlock, the Black Sheep, and two of our finest new recruits take him on, and they couldn't win!"

"Rub it in, why don't ya?" Gridlock glared. "What exactly do we know about these 'Napoleons'?"

"Well, according to the intel." Loveless looked at the notes. "The Napoleons have been operating in Bitaly for nearly as long as the three pony tribes have been joined. As of now, the family is controlled by eight brothers, one of them having recently left for Equestria... to become a Royal Guard."

"Look, I don't care about who's running the joint!" Gridlock snapped. "I wanna know what these guys are capable of!"

"It says here that the Napoleons are rather well known in the criminal underworld." Loveless continued reading. "Thousands of murders, weapon trafficking, drug trafficking, contraband, and robberies have been carried out in their name... and there have been rarely any arrests. The closest anypony came to toppling the empire was when a pony named Striker Killsquad ran some sting operations, before his 'demise'."

"Killsquad?" Ricochet repeated. "Hey, isn't that the name of the guy we have-"

"Yes it is." Gridlock grimaced. "So not only has Black been captured by the mafia... he's been captured by one of the world's strongest mafia groups."

Sterling and Solomon then entered the room. They had recently been promoted to Ouroboros, and had been away on a mission of their own.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Sterling asked.

"Did we miss anything?" Solomon asked.

"Hey, Sterling, Lightning, you ain't gonna believe it!" Ricochet chuckled, as the two took their seats. "You know that Black dude who kicked both your asses? The mob got him!"

"Wait, what?" Solomon frowned.

"The mob?" Sterling snorted. "You mean like from The Goatfather? Are you for real?"

"I'm afraid Ricochet is correct, Sterling." Loveless nodded as he showed them the folder. "One of our informants has ascertained that Black has been taken captive by the Napoleons, a crime family in Bitaly, and has been hidden away somewhere by them for months."

"So, you're telling me that a bunch of two-bit gangsters managed to do what many of our operatives couldn't?" Solomon growled. "...Well, I don't know whether to be impressed or livid."

"I know, right?" Gridlock nodded. "How could they had done this? We've been hunting Black for years now, and I doubt they even knew he existed until recently!"

"Maybe they justgot lucky." Sterling suggested, as he read the information about them with interest. "These guys sure aren't foolin' around."

"But they've managed to keep him all this time." Gridlock snarled. "I had no idea those pasta-munchers were capable of that."

"Hey, maybe we should try to convince them to join us!" Ricochet smiled. "If these guys are so good, with them, we would be unstoppable."

"Not likely." Sterling frowned. "According to this, they prefer not to harm innocents. They adhere to some strange code of honor. They are criminals... with morals."

"Oh." The five Ouroboros awed, both in realization and dismay.

"Well, that is... disconcerting." Harlhooves frowned.

"'Disconcerting'?" Gridlock scoffed. "It's worse than that! What if these mobsters get it in their heads that they want to get in the way of our plans?"

"Gridlock has a point." Solomon mused. "If the Napoleons could take down Black, then that makes them potentially a greater threat than him! I suggest that we do something about them before they get the chance."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Solomon." Sterling frowned. "The Napoleons don't even know who we are. If we attacked them... well, then that would just give us another enemy."

"Mr. Cross isn't wrong, you know." Harlhooves admitted. "Things are just getting back to normal, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don't want another threat to our organization right now."

"I suppose not." Solomon grumbled, glaring at Sterling.

"Still, I think it will be best that we keep an eye on these Napoleons." Gridlock frowned. "Make sure that they stay out of our way."

"Good thinking." Harlhooves agreed. "As for Black... well, he's hardly a threat to us wherever the Napoleons have him locked up."

"Indeed." Loveless nodded. "The Napoleons have actually done us a favor."

"Who would've thunk it?" Sterling mused.

"It still won't stop me from crushin' 'em if they get outta line, though..." Gridlock snarled.

"Oh yes, total obliteration." Solomon chuckled darkly.

"But for now, we are free to operate, safe in the knowledge that Black will no longer be an issue for us." Harlhooves grinned.

"Yep." Gridlock smirked. "We're back in business, boys..."

"Aw yeah!" Ricochet cheered, "That means I get to finally do this!" He pulled on a tug rope next to his chair.

A fanfare played as balloons and confetti fell down from above. A banner spelling "BLACK IS DEAD" unfolded over the table.

"I set that thing up when Gridlock and the Black Sheep took on Black." Ricochet said proudly. "Didn't had a chance to use it, since... well, you know."

"How thoughtful of you." Gridlock deadpanned.

"Thanks." Ricochet chuckled, before frowning. "Hey, I could've sworn I had a clown up there-"

Suddenly, a skeleton of a pony fell onto the table, sporting a rainbow wig and a red button nose. Everypony stared at it.

"Oh, there he is." Ricochet cringed. "Oh... oh, that's right, clowns like food, don't they?"

"...Just clean all this crap up, Ricochet." Gridlock groaned.

A few days later, Weaselly was enjoying his bonus at a bar in Baltimare. He was happily chugging back the drinks, glad he could be of use to his superiors.

"Yer gonna go far, Weasel, ol' boy, yer gonna go far!" Weaselly chuckled merrily to himself, as he chugged back another drink.

Suddenly, none other than Ballista took the seat next to him.

"Good evening, Mr. Weaselly." Ballista declared.

"Good evening your-" Weaselly paused. "Wait, how do you know my name? Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you. Kinda hard not to know one of the Forefathers' top informants." Ballista smiled.

Weaselly froze, shocked that Ballista knew of them. He reached for a crossbow in his saddlebag, but Ballista grabbed his hoof tightly.

"I have a few questions for you, mate." Ballista glared threateningly. "Answer them, and I'll let you go. Don't, and you'll be a hoof short. Got it?"

"Got it." Weaselly gulped.

"Good." Ballista smirked, as he departed. "Enjoy your drinks."

Weaselly let out a sigh of relief after Ballista left.

"Freakin' psycho..." He groaned.

Across the bar, a sultry-looking mare sat in shadow.

"This could be trouble." She mused. "Unless I do something about it..."

A few hours later, Ballista returned to the Taskforce with the information he'd attained, sharing it with the others.

"The Napoleons?" Elite frowned. "Why would a mafia family want to keep Black under lock and key?"

"Who cares?" Armory declared. "This is our chance to get Black back!"

"You took the words right outta my mouth." Ballista nodded. "We can put together an assault team, and-"

"Yeah... I would really recommend not doing that." A sultry voice rang out.

"Who's there?" Elite asked.

From around a corner emerged Natascha De Lady-Luck. She looked just the same as she did when the Taskforce encountered her in Las Pegasus. It was as if she hadn't aged a day since.

"You..." Ballista frowned.

"Hello, boys." Natascha smiled. "Long time, no see."

"Natascha?" Armory gaped. "You're here?" He started blushing. "You're, er, looking as lovely as ever."

"Oh, aren't you sweet?" Natascha purred. "You haven't aged so badly yourself."

"...Thanks." Armory gushed. "I have been trying to keep in shape..."

"Natascha De Lady-Luck." Elite noted. "My operatives informed me of the help you provided them in Las Pegasus. What brings you here?"

"And how did you get in?" Incognito asked.

"I have my ways. And to answer your question, I'm here to give you some more free advice." Natascha stated. "I'm well aware of what you're planning to do, and I'm warning you to drop it."

"Excuse me?" Elite frowned.

"You can't take on the Napoleons." Natascha declared. "Trust me, they have resources and weapons even the Forefathers can't imagine."

"So you're saying we should just leave one of our most valuable operatives in the hooves of a bunch of crooks?" Ballista snarled.

"Not so valuable any more, from what I've heard." Natascha frowned. "From what I've heard, you and your 'Project: Argo' really did a number on the poor guy."

"You know about Project: Argo?" Armory gaped.

"Me... and a few others." Natascha shrugged.

"Right... you just couldn't keep your damn mouth shut, could you?" Ballista glared at her viciously. "Thanks a lot for that."

"Oh, don't be that way, Ballista." Natascha tutted. "Business is business. And I did try to say no to him, but you know guys: 'no' means 'yes', and 'get lost' means 'take me, I'm yours'."

"Um, you do realize we're all guys here, right, Ms. Lady-Luck?" Master Mind frowned.

"That's beside the point." Natascha shrugged. "The point is, if you go to war with the Napoleons over Black, it will only end badly, mark my words."

"I hardly think a bunch of mafiosos will be a problem." Ballista sneered. "We're the army, dammit!"

"Wanna bet?" Natascha asked. "The Napoleons are not your run of the mill criminals. They've been at this game for several decades, and fried bigger fishes than that of the RDL. They're lead by the most brilliant criminal minds the world have ever known."

"It seems like you're quite familiar with these Napoleons." Elite frowned.

"Of course I am. They're one of my most favorite customers." Natascha smiled. "They pay me a small fortune, I let loose some information, and we sometimes have dinner together. They're a good bunch."

"I highly doubt that." Master Mind scoffed.

"To each their own." Natascha sighed. "Either way, these guys are extremely well-connected. If you launch an assault on them, then you would have yourselves a very powerful adversary. These guys don't back down from anything, and they will do everything in their power to take you out. And think of the media. How do you think it's going to look if a Equestrian-sanctioned military force breaking down the doors of a private residence?"

"...She's right." Elite sighed. "We could cause an international incident."

"Then we don't attack them!" Armory insisted. "Surely we can reason with them? Ask them to give Black over to us?"

"I'm afraid that won't work either." Natascha shook her head. "How do you intend to convince them that 'Red Eclipse' isn't 'Red Eclipse' without revealing the fact that he is Black Knight, who mind you, is supposed to be dead? In fact, how do you explain it without telling them about Taskforce Omega? If they knew, then it could lead to the same problem."

"...So... there is really nothing we can do, is there?" Elite frowned, disheartened.

"Y'what?" Ballista snorted. "Elite, you can't be serious. You're taking this floozie's advice?"

"Floozie?" Natascha glared.

"What choice do we have, Ballista?" Elite sighed. "It's too risky. Not only because the Napoleons will no doubt be ready for a home invasion, but if they are powerful as Natascha claims, then we will have to contend with both the Forefathers and them. We can't risk the security of this entire team for a single operative."

"But... we... we have to!" Armory protested. "Black needs us!"

"Oh Armory, you are such a sweetheart." Natascha said soothingly, rubbing his shoulder. "I know how much Black means to you, but you can't throw everything away for him. Deep down, there's still a part of him that doesn't want that."

"Yeah, I know..." Armory sighed.

"You poor dear." Natascha stroked his cheek. "I hate to bring such bad news upon all of you, but it's for your own good."

"We... appreciate the advice, Miss Lady-Luck." Elite said solemnly.

"I'm sure you do." Natascha nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to go, and ponies to see..."

Natascha departed the headquarters.

"So that's it, then?" Ballista growled. "We're just calling it quits?"

"We have no choice." Elite sighed. "Like Natascha said, it's too much of a risk. As much as we may detest it, we have no other option than to... leave Black where he is."

"It's the logical choice." Master Mind agreed.

"The strategic choice." Incognito added.

"But not the choice a friend would make." Armory said sullenly. "We've really lost Black now..."

"Aroo..." Titan howled.

With great regret, the Taskforce left all plans of rescuing Black on the shelf. Until something happened, their hooves were tied.

As the years passed by, Black was beginning to grow much, much worse. Despite the mental breakdown and the ensuing machine-like disposition, there had been incidents where Black would suddenly snap, lunging and screaming madly at any pony who came near. After one particular incident where he almost bit off the ear of one of the pony guards, the Napoleons responded by tightening the chains to a point where Black was hanging, unable to move. This of course led to Black having to be fed by hoof...

However, unbeknownst to them, after that incident, something had reawakened within Black's subconscious... and it had a plan...

As Black sat in his cell one day, chains as tight as ever, he heard some of his jailors approaching.

'Finally.' He thought. 'Time to blow this pop stand...'

Black slumped back, making it appear as if he was asleep. He heard voices approaching him, and the sound of Griffon hind leg claws tapping on the stone.

"Lunch time, psycho." The Griffon declared.

Black kept pretending to be asleep.

"Didn't you hear me?" The Griffon frowned. "Wake up!"

The Griffon tapped Black's cheek lightly.

'Gotcha.' Black suddenly lifted his head up and snapped at the Griffon.

"Aah!" The griffon yelled, his wings opening in fright.

In his shock, the griffon tossed the food tray into the air. As he dived to catch it, Black caught one of the Griffon's feathers in his mouth. Catching the tray, the Griffon turned back to Black, who quickly pulled the feather under his tongue.

"I suppose you think that was funny, huh?" The Griffon growled. "I hope you choke on this food."

"Haha, what? Are you bloody hybrids part chicken or something?" Black snarked.

"Eagle, and you're lucky that I am even bothering to feed you. If it were up to me, you would be skin and bone right now!" The Griffon sneered.

"Ooh, like I asked to be fed by a product of drunk mating between a lion and an eagle. You Griffons are freaks." Black growled.

"Just shut up and eat your food." The Griffon force-fed Black his meal, Black making sure to keep the feather under his tongue the whole time.

"No chokin', huh?" The Griffon sulked. "Pity. Ah well, maybe next time..."

"Speakin' of next time, tell the chef to go easy on the salt." Black chuckled darkly.

The Griffon carried the empty tray out of the cell, muttering curses. As he slammed the cell's door shut, the buffalo guard approached him.

"So, how's the little 'machine' doing?" The buffalo scoffed.

"'Little machine' nothing, that asshole nearly bit my beak off." The Griffon growled. "And he insulted me!"

"Really?" The Earth Pony guard frowned. "That's strange. From what I understand, the guy hasn't said so much as a word for the past couple of years, only yells and screams."

"Oh, he talks." The Griffon growled. "He just insulted my parentage. Lousy, rotten-"

"Just ignore him." The buffalo snorted. "It's not like he can do anything else..."

Upon the cell's door shutting, Black released the feather from under his tongue, and stuck it out, quill first.

'Time to pick me a winner...' He smirked.

With some careful manipulation, he managed to bend the feather so the quill entered the lock of his chains. Turning his head back and forth, he succeeded in picking the lock. The chains clattered the ground, freeing him.

"Finally..." He stretched out his limbs. "Now to get out of here." He then cracked his hooves. "Muscles, don't fail me now."

Black made his way to the basement's door, and began pounding against it repeatedly. Finally, it tore loose from its hinges, slamming two guards (a buffalo and a pony) on the other side against the opposite wall. As they collapsed to the floor, Black stepped out of the cell.

"I'm done with the room now." He told their prone forms smugly. "Thank you for your hospitality."

He made to leave… before coming back to kick the buffalo's unconscious body.

"By the way, you buffaloes reek!" Black grimaced.

Black dashed down the corridor, and up the stairs.

'Time to check out of this second-rate chateau once and for all.' He thought.

Quietly, he snuck through the mansion, looking for the closest exit. As he turned into one room, he narrowly avoided being spotted by a Changeling servant by ducking behind a chair. Once the coast was clear, he continued his sneaking.

As Black entered the living room, he lit up at the sight of the door leading to his freedom… but then he heard a loud sound.

"Be careful, you ricchione!" Murray snarled.

"Aw, crud!" Black cursed.

Quickly, he ducked behind a couch, as he saw the Napoleons bringing in a crate.

"Steady, steady…" Lars grunted.

"Saying 'steady' does not makes this crate any lighter." Slot groaned.

"Don't even think about dropping this box!" Salt glared. "Because of this thing, our archaeologist friend's wife has to do all the 'work' for him the next couple of weeks."

"Just set it down here." Grimoire gestured to the middle of the room.

The brothers set the crate down.

"Slot, if you please…" Sonny gestured.

Slot smiled as he pulled out a crowbar, and cracked open the crate.

"Oh-ho-ho, looks like we hit the jackpot this time!" Vinny smirked, as he and the other brothers peeked inside. The crate contained a bunch of old relics.

"Check this out." Lars held up an old vase. "This must be from the Whinnyin' dynasty!"

"And here's an authentic Roaman cooking pot!" Sonny smiled.

"And a genuine Coltic warrior's shield!" Salt declared.

"What's this?" Grimoire held up a curved red object that ended in a point.

"Beats me." Murray shrugged.

"Looks like a Unicorn's horn." Lars inspected it.

"Well I don't think the Bitalian history museum will want some dead guy's horn." Murray snorted, as he took the horn and dropped it back in the crate.

'Whatever that old garbage is, at least it'll keep them distracted while I get outta here.' Black thought.

Knowing that they were too engrossed in their trinkets to notice him, Black started tiptoeing towards the open front door.

"What kinda junk is this?" Slot held up a rusty old cog. "Later!"

Slot tossed the cog over his shoulder. The cog struck Black square in the face.

"Ow!" He yelped, unable to stop himself. 'Oh buck.'

The Napoleons turned, and saw him.

'Oh, double buck.' Black thought.

"You!" Grimoire snarled. "How did you escape?!"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Black smirked, edging towards the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to go, and vermin to stamp out. Buh-bye now!"

"You're not going anywhere, Eclipse!" Murray snarled.

"Oh?" Black smirked. "Just watch me."

He turned to the door, only for a chair, wrapped in a magic aura, fly by and barricade it.

"We made a promise to Mr. Yggdrasil that we would keep you locked up." Lars growled. "And we Napoleons never break our promise."

"Is that so?" Black turned to face them, his smile turning into a scowl. "That old bug and his 'prophecy' really messed things up for me. I'll have to give him and his mud-wallowing race a crash course in agony once I get out of here."

"Sorry, but the only thing that's going to get a crash course in agony is you, ya Tartarus-bound scumsucker!" Slot roared.

"Well, then…"Black did a "come hither" gesture with one of his front hooves. "Bring it."

"Consider it brought!" Salt led the charge.

The fight went by in a vicious blur. Though Black was not in the best shape, he put up a decent struggle. But he was forced to make some underhoofed moves, like kicking one of them in the groin. His need for survival (and to get some payback for his imprisonment) superceded all thoughts of fair play. Despite how hard he hit each and every one of them, they continued to get back up, and it was getting to a point where Black was growing very tired.

"This is really starting to get old." He declared, the rigors of having been locked up for so long getting to him. "How many times do I have to beat you down before you stay down?"

"Hey, big guy!"

Black turned, only to be blindsided by Slot hitting him hard with a body check.

Black was flung headfirst into the crate. The crate shattered, sending the items inside flying everywhere. Everything became a daze for the concussed Black. He could barely make out what the others were saying...

"Oy, this guy just doesn't give up, does he?" Murray growled.

"Well, there's still seven of us and only one of him, so let's kick his flank!" Slot snarled.

'No... no, no, no...' Black panicked, as he struggled to get up. 'I can't lose now. I can't go back down there. I won't... I won't!'

"Wait." Grimoire stopped Slot, as he noticed something different about him. "There's something on his head!"

The red curved object had somehow attached itself to Black's forehead, making him look like he had a horn.

"Owww, my buckin' head..." He groaned. As he rubbed his forehead, he felt the horn. 'Wait, what's this?'

"Then let's get it off him." Salt declared. "As painfully as possible."

Black slowly rose to his hooves, his mind racing rapidly as he found himself trapped in a corner.

'And I thought it couldn't get any worse.' He thought wildly. 'They won't lock me up this time. They'll probably just kill me. But hey, at least I won't have to live in that rotten cell anymore.'

As Black struggled to rally his jangled thoughts, another voice emerged in his mind.

'...Crystals...'

'What the f-' Black frowned.

Black was unable to finish that thought, as suddenly, his eyes snapped open, the sclera around his golden irises a sickly green, as purple wisps poured out. The red horn began to glow with a dim green light. A great surge of power coursed through his body, the feelings of exhaustion and pain fading away as if they never existed. For the first time in ten years, he felt invincible... like the perfect machine.

The stallion glared at the seven stupefied brothers...

"As I was saying..." He smirked, as the horn glowed brighter. "Buh-bye now..."

Grimoire's next words perfectly summarized how screwed he and his brothers were.

"Oh, sweet motherbuckin'-" Grimoire gasped.

*KABOOM!*

The entire mansion went up in flames around Black, the building torn apart by a massive explosion. As the inferno crackled around him, Black's grin grew more wicked and wider, as he began to laugh and laugh, descending into a sense of anarchy. It was a madness he had never known until that moment.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!" He threw his head back in twisted delight, his laugh fading away into the deep blackness of the night...

However, somewhere deep within the recesses of his broken mind...

Black found himself walking into what seemed to be the throne room of Canterlot Castle, only it was darker, more foreboding.

"What is this?" He frowned, stupefied by what he was seeing.

"This... is destiny." A dark voice, cold as ice, whispered.

"Who said that?" Black looked around. "Show yourself! Who are you?"

"Who am I indeed?" The voice sneered. "Well, to answer your question, I am what some ponies call a fool... a monster... a tyrant... a king... a god... but you may address me by my true name..."

Black glanced forward, his eyes widen and his jaw dropping by who he was seeing.

Sitting atop the throne, where Celestia would normally sit, was a familiar grey unicorn with red eyes, clad in silver armor, a red cape with white trim, an ominous-looking crown, and the same horn that Black had upon his head.

The unicorn gazed at Black Knight with eyes much like the devil himself...

"...Sombra..."

The present...

Everypony was silent, as Caboose and Fletcher stood agape at what Black had just told them.

"Lauren Faust, dude!" Caboose gasped.

"So that was how you came to have Sombra's horn?" Fletcher whispered. "Unbelievable..."

"Tell me about it. The first time I used his powers, it was like nothing I'd never felt before..." Black admitted. "Though I guess it goes without saying that I went a little overboard."

"Yeah, no kidding." Caboose pouted. "You wound up blowing up the house I grew up in."

"Yeah, again, sorry about that." Black shrugged. "But in spite of that, I think we all know what comes next..."

"But of course." Fletcher nodded. "The worst is yet to come."

"I'm even more unsure I want to hear this." Pike frowned. "It doesn't sound like it'll be fun..."

"That doesn't even come close to describing what was in store for me." Black frowned. "What were easily my darkest days were upon me, and everything would change forever...."

Author's Note:

"I am Machine" belongs to Three Days Grace.

Comments

[Grekoy]

I enjoy listening to that song and seeing Black act like a machine and the machine version of Black was chilling.