Chapter 10
Yam’s eyes opened like a theatre curtain rising to reveal the latest silver screen production. His ears rang like abused watchtower bells and tiny, cruel demons kicked the back of his eyeballs, which caused his head to thud in time to the ring-a-ding-dinging. Before his eyes could even focus, he could smell equine misery, a scent he was all too familiar with after having spent time overseas. Sweat, urine, feces, the stench of bodies that hadn’t bathed in far too long, the telling reek of fear. Yam, a natural born coward if ever there was one, knew that some of that fragrant funk was wafting from him.
“I am surprised that you are even alive,” a kind and familiar voice said to Yam. “I really must apologise. The trap was meant to catch a Warden. With all of their regulations, we honestly believed that a Warden would go to investigate the strongbox at the bank. We had such high hopes of studying a live Warden. To understand them, to learn how they work, and perhaps better understand how we can defend ourselves from them.”
Now, Yam understood why Wardens never deviated from the regulations: ponies got hurt.
“It was a brilliant poison, designed to affect those with both equine and draconic physiology. We’ve spent years working on it.” The voice was close, but Yam had trouble focusing still and seeing was just out of the question. Yam could not help but feel that he had heard the voice before… just recently in fact, and his ears strained to suppress the ringing so that he might hear better. “I fear I must apologise, Mister Spade. We met under less than ideal circumstances. You probably think I am a bad pony, but I assure you, I am far, far from it. I work for a noble cause. I work for a group that strives for equality and so much more. We seek to right a great injustice in the world and it is my most sincere hope that you can be reasoned with.”
All around him, Yam could hear whimpering, crying, the soft, muffled sounds of bodies rubbing against each other. His eyes watered from the sharp, biting stench of old urine. Like sand flowing through an hourglass, sensation returned to his legs a little at a time and he became aware of the fact that he was tied up, but he wasn’t gagged. His bonds seemed gentle, which was surprising. No stranger to being tied up, Yam found that there were different ways to tie a pony, and most used the method that caused the most pain.
“Our cause is just, Mister Spade. Where we once sought equality, we now seek to rise above the fates that we’ve been made slaves to. We ascend, Mister Spade. We wish to lift and elevate our brethren in bondage from the shackles of cruel, fickle destiny. Starlight Glimmer had a good idea, but she was far too stupid to see the real potential in her work. We have grown beyond her petty goals and frivolous aspirations.”
Yam didn’t have much, but he did have his wits about him, sort of. He’d heard of this particular brand of insanity before and had no desire to hear it yet again. Blinking, he struggled to lift his head so that he might focus on his captor, who stood nearby. The voice was so familiar—so recognisable—and he was possessed with a growing frustration for not being able to place it. Some detective he was, hearing a voice and failing to place it with a face. It was like serving up a hot supper and failing to ladle the gravy onto the smashed potatoes. Unforgivable.
“You probably think me a fool for monologuing, but it is my sincere hope that I can convince you of the righteousness of our cause, Mister Spade. We are at war and some actions, while regrettable, are necessary. I do not want you as my enemy, the system that is currently in place, the unjust rule of those who have shaped and abused destiny to suit their own agenda, they would have us be enemies. I wish to liberate you and free you from your yoke. It is my hope that I can open your eyes to the bondage that you live in.”
“Bondage feels a lot like rope tied around my legs,” Yam managed to say after he discovered that his sarcasm had survived intact. “If you want me to be a free creature as much as you say, you could start by untying me.”
“Oh, I would like to do just that, but I have my own safety to be concerned about.”
“Well, one thing that would greatly improve my mood… do you know where Honey Dew is?” Yam asked, figuring it couldn't hurt to try and find this out.
“Yes, actually,” was the surprising reply. Yam waited, but no further information seemed forthcoming from his still unknown captor.
“You know you’ll be caught, right? The Wardens will come for you. Capturing me was your undoing. When you are caught, they’ll pick through your brain like a filing cabinet.” Yam hoped to unnerve his captor and tried to think of more to say to this end.
“You might think that, Mister Spade, but you are wrong. Capturing you poses no risk to our larger goals. We’ve learned, Mister Spade, and adapted to the Wardens. We are finding new ways to fight them. To shield our minds from them. We’ve adapted to their dominating tactics. We exist as a decentralised group now, with each cell acting independently. I have no idea who my fellow revolutionaries are. I might bump into them on the street unawares. We don’t know each other’s names, or faces, or identities. The Wardens will have nothing to extract from my mind, save for a few close associates in my cell. I don’t even know who my generous anonymous benefactor is. What little information that is exchanged between us goes through an extensive set of filters that preserves total anonymity.”
Upon taking all of this in, Yam deflated as something in the back of his mind acknowledged the hopelessness of it all. Why was it that he always ended up at the mercy of the worst sorts of nutjobs? It just wasn’t fair. But this… this seemed far worse and somehow far more dangerous than anything else he had found himself mixed up in.
“If they cut off this head, if my cell is destroyed, another will grow to replace it. Our cause is just and I am fine with being a martyr. I have left seeds for others to find, and if it takes my blood to water those seeds to make them sprout, so be it. Others will rise to replace me. We will ascend. We exist everywhere and nowhere. There is no central body for the Wardens to strike and they will waste their precious resources stamping out shadows and striking at the phantoms that we allow them to see.”
Blinking, trying to clear his vision, Yam reflected upon everything that had been said. With every word spoken, nothing at all, nothing meaningful had been put at risk. In fact, if he shared everything that he knew right now with his Warden friends, it would do nothing to enlighten them, but would probably serve to demoralise them. Ears sagging, Yam truly began to understand the hopelessness of the situation. Destroying this cell would no doubt cause others to rise and replace it, because fools only needed a cause and a reason. The Wardens would rise to fight this threat, of course they would, and the more resources they threw at this threat, this insubstantial, intangible threat, the less resources they would have to deal with common crimes that plagued society. A desperate, weary society would be more susceptive to the whispers of treason and revolution, anything to re-establish the safety and security craved by all.
This was a no win situation and Yam was just smart enough to see that.
“Just imagine it, Mister Spade… a world free of the slavery imposed by the Princesses. They use their magic to warp and weave destiny… our destiny to suit their whims. Such power is not beyond them, I assure you. That mark of yours, it is a brand, a collar, a means of control. We seek to restore free agency, Mister Spade. No goddesses, no masters. Just think of the established wealth that controls and corrupts everything… like Mister Mariner, the pony that owns the bank in which you were captured. Miss Honey Dew made a breakthrough discovery, and Mister Mariner, his company, his conglomerates, they sought to hide this precious discovery away so that only he would profit from it. At the request of our benefactor, we have taken Miss Honey Dew with the hopes that we can replicate this discovery and the world might be changed because of it.”
Yam’s mind, perhaps having recovered from being gassed, worked to function and began to put everything together. What few answers his brain offered him only caused more questions, but he and his brain could sort that out later, perhaps with tequila and tamales. “Officer Cricket, you are quite the orator.”
“I am genuinely surprised that it took you this long. Shall we blame the dreadful gas? I honestly do feel bad about that. I liked you from our first meeting, Mister Spade. You were earnest, sincere, and there was a sense of forthrightness about you that I found appealing. You were so focused, so dedicated to finding something… doing something… I found myself admiring your drive to get results.”
“So, what is it with the foals?” Yam asked as he continued to put the pieces together and listened to the many sounds around him.
“Oh, come now, don’t be coy or stupid… I find that infuriating, Mister Spade.” Cricket clucked his tongue and this made Yam’s ears twitch. “Future soldiers, Mister Spade. We’ll raise them with our way of thinking. We won’t let the Princesses poison them with all of the drivel and dreck they teach as part of their approved curriculum. Right now, they are miserable, and unhappy, and that is understandable. These conditions are appalling. But this is temporary and will soon be remedied. We’re about to go on a trip, Mister Spade.”
“And the experimentation?” Yam managed to focus on his captor and for the first time, Cricket’s calm, expressionless face came into total focus.
“Well…” Cricket’s tongue clucked again. “We take the worst ones… the ones who just refuse to cooperate and bring so much misery to bear upon their fellows… and we use them to attempt to recreate Miss Honey Dew’s remarkable discovery. Acceptable sacrifices, in the bigger picture. One day, the lives enriched by the remarkable advances promised in the successful duplication of her miraculous results will make all of these… dreadful… little… um, how shall we say… hiccups? Moral hiccups? Ethical hiccups? No matter… the ends justify the means, I am sure you’ll find. Yes, one day, the rewards will make these unpleasant but necessary actions worth it.”
“Like killing Tweedy Penny—”
“I don’t even know who killed her,” Cricket said, making a smooth, effortless interruption. “I knew it was planned. Our anonymous benefactor sent word through the various channels and warned us that she was having a change of heart. Oh, we had to hustle because that changed the schedule, let me tell you, and a trap had to be improvised for the Warden that we hoped to catch. It is disappointing that we failed to catch one for study, but no matter. In time, it will happen, and the information we glean will filter through our decentralised communication networks. Others will rise to fight them, Mister Spade, of this I am confident.”
“So you want to bring it all toppling down.” Yam spat out the words, feeling an unusual anger deep within him. Something about all of this violated his sense of decency, but it was so much more. “You want to hijack the future… end the rule of the Princesses of Equestria, and steal away the wealth of ponies like Mister Mariner as some grand scheme of self rule while labouring beneath the delusion of playing at a fair table. But it’s not a fair table, it is a table you’ve rigged for yourselves. Tell me, genius, what will you do when some crackpot revolutionary rises up… oh, wait, allow me to be a dramatic dipshit—”
Yam paused and stared into the eyes of Cricket, fearful that he would catch a beating for his flippancy.
“What will you do when somepony ascends to strike down your no doubt brief rule? Not that you will ever have that… Princess Celestia has survived worse than you. The fact that you believe that you are some kind of threat is laughable. You’re a deluded, brain-shriveled fool.” Yam was rewarded by the sight of considerable anger roiling like a stormcloud on the face of his captor, whose calm was now shattered beyond repair. Cricket’s lip trembled, his ears quivered, and his eyelids seemed a bit twitchy. Yam reveled in the damage he had caused and his lip curled back into a practiced, sardonic sneer.
Cricket was about to respond, to react—he appeared to be just about to shout in fact—when he was interrupted by the sweet strains of a mariachi band that began playing. He responded in such a way that most who suddenly hear a mariachi band start playing from nowhere typically do: he became quite confused and stood there, blinking, trying to understand where the music was coming from.
“What in Tartarus?” Cricket’s head tilted off to one side in the manner of confused quadrupeds everywhere, and his ears perked.
“The burros call it, ‘Espíritu de Venganza,’ and I do believe you have pissed it off,” Yam said to his captor as a smug look of relief spread over his face like too much sweet, sweet jam smeared over toast. “Don’t bother running, you’ll only end up beaten and tired. You done fronked up when you stole burro foals… you mess with one bean and you end up with the whole burrito.”
“What are you talking about?” Cricket demanded and there was real panic in his voice as the mariachi music began to intensify and gain volume. “How could you possibly know what is going on? What is happening here?”
Just as Yam was about to answer, just as he was about to gloat, the horns blared and guitars let out a wailing, baleful riff. Somewhere, overhead, glass shattered—a terrific, terrifying sound—and a lone figure came crashing through the skylight, descending down from the stars beyond. Glass fell like raining diamonds and the cloaked, masked figure came crashing down to the floor amidst a thousand glittering shards that glittered like snowflakes under the harsh winter moon.
The mask was colourful, cheerful even, and concealed everything about the figure’s face, but two long, rabbit-like ears were visible. A cape settled over the unknown figure’s back, fluttering in some intangible, unfathomable wind that seemed to move in time to the music, and this interloper, whomever it was, appeared to be totally unharmed from the fall through the overhead skylight window.
“I AM GUACAMELEE, ESPÍRITU DE VENGANZA, AND ALL OF YOU PUTA MADRES ARE ABOUT TO GET YOUR ASS BEAT!”
Stats
Page generated in 0.026 seconds
Total duration
988 users online
1,419,345 hits today, 2,167,270 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
8456235
But I just posted one...
I was waiting for luchadors. I am now rewarded with a luchador.
Gonna get his ass beat by an ass.
The TWISTS have been DOUBLED!
Yam's talent works in mysterious ways! Even when he does not consciously will it, he lands right in the thick of it!
Someburrow was keeping close tabs on her favorite saddle and seat cushion!
Soooo..... Equestrian Zorro? I am very okay with this.
"If you mess with one bean, you end up with the whole burrito"..
damn you why did you make me laugh at that XDXD
was it the chase or the weedverse that you mentioned ponies and creatures going vigilante to beat up bad guys?
El Kabong!
I read the author's note and can only think...
Ah, ablative of means, you never fail me.
And more deluded fools thinking they can rule themselves better than the infinitely wiser and more intelligent, benevolent princesses can. Alicorns who are literally forced to put the little ponies first. These don't even know who their backer is, who is the one who'd get REAL power if they managed to win, obviously.
Gods, it's probably friggin' Grogar. Why wouldn't it be. Or Dim's mom. Sounds like her. Cricket and his fellows are bloody well stupid.
And now, she's hidden better than ever. Heh.
can this horrible flavor of cool-aid be discontinued and banned.. SADLY for most people the temptation of power is more than enough for some people especially when they are convinced that their failings are the fault of others
8456371
Um, no.
No. For once, it isn't them.
It should be quite obvious who it really is.
When you see a Guacamelee, someone's getting smashed into a greenish paste.
If they're lucky, that's just an avocado to the face.
8456371
Yeap, and what is really stupid is that the means they are doing, kidnapping, brainwashing, murder, slavery in Honey Dew's case, equine experimentation, foal abuse, soul mutilation and mind control with the Cutie Mark removal, all of that the princesses don't do. So already they're dropped below what they want to replace, and even if win, this is what the new order will do to keep and use power. So really this so called new order will have less freedom and equality then what rule under the Alicorns. In fact Alicorn rule is what allows Cricket and the others enough freedom and stability to even think about rebelling in the first place.
And to say that the ends justify the means; easy to say when it's other ponies paying the price of so called progress. And the yahoos think they are freedom fighters, but really they are traitors and criminals. And the biggest proof that who ever in charge doesn't really want freedom is this line.
The ability to allow peaceful disagreement is the hallmark of a free society, and with those words, he just proved that his cause doesn't care about free discourse, but only their own ideology.
8456590
Keep in mind, he's talking about children. Misbehaving children.
8456601
Yes, and in some ways that makes it worse. I'm a school bus driver by trade, and trust me when I say children misbehave a lot for reasons adults may find silly or confusing. But with less life experiences and knowledge, of course they make mistakes and errors of judgement. And yet he condones using them for involuntary medical experiments, which I wouldn't even approve of on harden criminals. And even children can have wisdom if we as adults care to listen. Just cause a child doesn't want to do something, doesn't mean forcing them is the right call.
Ah, the Ascendency. Nice to meet them again... not.
... i really want to tell you that is wrong, but i know that it is regional varience that makes me think this. Im triggered by that.
Anyhow yes. Nothing quite like a Guacamelee. Olé
8456840
Oil of Olay?
I prefer: olé!
Ohhhh! You have gone and done it now! You are SERIOUSLY FUCKED you stupid bucking cultist!!
8456864
There is a lot of spanish words i know how to say, but not spell.
8456320
Great minds think alike!!! Wonder how many of these youngsters get the reff.
8456237
So you're saying that you're just going to leave us on this cliffhanger without even letting us know who this MYSTERIOUS STRANGER is? Without letting us see justice being beaten into these cultists?
*Takes out the whip* Pretty sure it means that you need...convincing...in order to give us more answers.
Seriously though, I am enjoying this wild ride and I cannot WAIT for these fuckers to get their just desserts! >=)
8457106
Behold! The flan of justice!
8456246
GUACAMELEE, the lunchador!
oh my stars, the mental image for this is way funnier than it should be
Shame my first comment is because of hilarity, but I'd like to add that i have been thoroughly absorbed by this story. I love a good detective story
8469539
8456257
Exactly what I was thinking!
8456601
That make it hideous! Doing that to adults is wrong but children is plain out and out evil. I don't care how bad they are.
I actually don't have any problems with the Wardens. My only concern is that I would like something to be a balance to them. I know it's not fair wanting something that you are not even sure what you want.
I have never liked or believe in the thinking of the means justifies the end.
Chapter twist: well that was a surprise
