FoE: The Gates of Hell

by Mel

Part 3: Hell

-

In my mind, there is a cardinal difference between hope and faith. Hope is a force all its own. A lone tower in the planes, awe inspiring and dominant. To have hope was to have a second battery to power you through hardship and trial. Faith was not a tower. It was an impenetrable mesh. It was a weave so resilient that no blade could pierce it. It could hold weight unimaginable and weather the roughest storms… if it had a proper tether. But alone it was just a cloth blowing in the wind.

I think I had hope in my first years in Tartarus. I had been transferred to a noisy club called Afterlife, far away from that slimy snake Ahuizotl in his basement bar. I was forced to serve drinks to the strange, talking ghouls that filled the club from night to morning. My combat inhibitor stopped me from making any overly hostile action against them and kept me wandering back and forth at the bar like a spirit unable to pass on. It did not, however, prevent me from threatening them. For a while the business at Afterlife actually declined because of my posturing, but the ghouls soon came to learn that I was no threat. They even began to patronize me. Made little nicknames and chuckled at me like I was a senile elder prattling on about the fierce warrior he used to be.

I almost lost it when they painted me. I had always dreamed of being coated in the color of Her Majesty’s royal guard or the dark purple of the illustrious night guard. I would be emblazoned with Her sun or Her moon and look just like the gutsy robots I had seen on pre-war posters. Instead I was done up in black and white pinstripes to match the style of the Afterlife.

One day I was going to look like I belonged in the royal Equestrian army. Now I looked like a damn dirty zebra robot.

I hated the hat. I hated the pink-maned ghoul that kept fixing the hat. I would ‘lose’ it in the middle of the dance floor or in a toilet or in the trash and she would always be able to find it. Fix it. Bring it back. Soldiers do not wear hats.

On the day I lost my hope the hat was freshly repaired and lying on my head. The humiliation had a pronounced effect on my volume; most of my threats that day were made with an indoor voice. My hate had worn thin and it was becoming a chore to keep my insults fresh. If I had a heart, it wouldn’t have been in my fight.

Rusty Gears sat at the table, gazing at me forlornly. Her coat, once uniform and grey, was now a patchwork of scabs and sloughed-off skin. Her face was so alien without its scornful glare. Instead, her milky white eyes held nothing but sorrow for me. She did not approach me as an old friend would- she had overheard my threats and my prejudices. We were afraid to speak, afraid to look away from each other’s eyes.

I was the first to break the pleading silence. “…The others?”

Rusty Gears looked down. I did not need to hear her speak. I prayed that she would not say a word.

“Cookie pulled me out of there and ran. We both made it out alive. But we had left the Rad-X and Rad-Away with Jasmine. Cookie rushed me to a doctor as quickly as she could, but…”

It sounded like someone had torn out her vocal cords and replaced them with shredded cans. It was painful to hear, and it broke something inside of me. I tried to accept it, to come to terms with Gears returning and confessing her death to me all at once. I wanted to tell her how it made me feel. I couldn’t find the words then and I doubt I ever will.

Rusty Gears closed her eyes and sighed, heavy and wet. “How have you been, Cerberus?”

“Trapped.” I put my clamp on her hoof and leaned in close. “Take it off.”

“Your combat inhibitor? You want me to remove it? And then what, Cerberus?”

“We could go back into the wasteland. Wander like we used to! I’ll get used to how you look, and I can’t tell how terrible you probably smell. It will be almost like old times-”

“And what about Meatlocker, Cerberus?”

“Tartarus will burn,” I said without hesitation.

Rusty Gears put a hoof to her face. “Dammit, no… the ghouls here are just trying to get by, Cerberus!”

“Ghouls killed my squad!”

“I AM a ghoul!”

I slammed my weapons on the bar. “I won’t touch you, I promise! Just take it off! I can’t go on like this! Let me burn this place to the ground!”

Something was leaking from holes near Gears’ eyes. “I can’t let you kill innocent ponies, Cerberus!”

“They killed me first! They killed Reeds and Thicket and Jasmine! They killed you!”

“No they didn’t, Cerberus! Feral ghouls in the tunnel killed our friends, and radiation killed me!”

“Then they killed me!”

Water trailed along the warped grooves in Rusty Gears’ rotten muzzle. She didn’t look away, and for a single instant I could see the old stubborn ferocity I remembered so clearly, drowning in pity and sorrow. “You’re killing yourself, Cerberus. You have to stop wanting to hurt these ponies.”

I brought up my autograph, shouting, “I'll never lose faith!”

“Cerberus… If murder is all you got left to hang your faith on…” She looked at my arm and almost sniffed. “RL-3 must have signed the wrong robot."

-

The marketplace catches fire so easily. I burn their wares and disintegrate the shop owners. The stupid hat I burn right in front of her. I watch the fire devour it in the reflection of her eyes. Then I watch the terror. Then I watch the flames.

Most of the goods burn. Some just char. In one stand I leave the blackened remains of a bipedal hound. The dog’s metal parts do not burn, and will remain long after the rest of it crumbles to ash.

Some of them fight. Some of them run. Some live and some die. All of them are terrified or angry. All of them know what it feels like to lose everything.

The damned building has finally caught fire. The ghouls are butchered, one way or another. It is time to leave.

-

“Rusty Gears abandoned me!”

“That egghead saved you!”

“I don’t want to be saved, I want…”

“You want what?” Time Bomb lowered herself back into her seat, wings winding down.

Spark Plug continued to stare into her empty glass. “…You want them back.”

Cerberus relaxed, returning all of his limbs and eyes back to resting position.

“They can’t come back,” she whispered.

“Well, lookie here!” A unicorn with strips of blue skin still clinging to his bones stumbled away from the dance floor, a bottle of Heiferken swaying in his magical grip. “We don’t get a whole lot of breathers in Meatlocker, let alone Afterlife! Come on, girls, the dead are living it up more than you!” He raised a hoof to tug on Spark Plug’s shoulder. “After all, this isn’t Mortuar-”

Time Bomb’s wing snapped protectively over Spark Plug, blocking the buck’s grasp. Spark Plug shivered and locked her tiny pupils in her glass. Time Bomb shot the ghoul a one-eyed glare over her wing. “My friend doesn’t like to be touched. Piss off.”

The ghoul sneered. “Oh, I get it. You got a problem with ghouls?”

“The only problem I have with ghouls is how hard it is to wash them off my hooves. So why don’t you save us both a lot of trouble and haul your pulpy ass outta here?”

The ghoul sneered but left, muttering “Breathers…” under his breath.

“We shouldn’t have come here,” Spark Plug whispered.

Cerberus extended his forward eye with newfound interest. “The hell was that?”

Time Bomb left her wing over the shivering unicorn. “You’re not the only one with ghoul problems, buddy.”

Spark Plug took a deep breath and finally looked up from her glass. She stared Cerberus in the eye. “I…” She stopped, looking back to her glass and then to the side. She closed her eyes. “When I was a little filly-”

“Time Bomb!” The new voice caused Cerberus to raise his weapons irritably, but he said nothing when he saw that it came from another living pony. A buck as green as Thicket was calling out to the red pegasus. “Get over here! I need something blown up!”

“Oh boy!” Time Bomb fluttered from her seat, wings flapping excitedly. Her smile faded as she looked back to Spark Plug and Cerberus. She shouted, “Can it wait, Flag?!”

“No! Now move it! Double time!” Flag looked at Cerberus once from halfway across the room. They held the gaze for a second before he turned and left.

Time Bomb grit her teeth. “Are you going to be alright?” she asked Spark Plug gently.

She nodded quietly.

“Fear not,” reassured Cerberus, “I may not be allowed to kill them but anypony that harasses my patrons gets a dishonorable discharge from Afterlife, right on their ass!"

Time Bomb nodded uneasily. “Okay…” She glanced at Cerberus, and would have looked right through him to his combat inhibitor if she could. Turning back to Spark Plug, she whispered, “Just don’t do anything crazy, okay?”

Spark Plug smiled meekly and Time Bomb flew off.