FoE: The Gates of Hell

by Mel

Epilogue: Asphodel

-

Afterlife was dead. Sleeping, rather. A single multihued ghoul stocked the bar. A few members of the band tuned their instruments on stage. Other than them, there were only two others in the relatively silent club. A rotten pegasus in worn stable barding made a final turn on Cerberus’ arm with his screwdriver. Cerberus hated screwdrivers. “Rise and Shine, Cerberus,” he said, spitting the tool into a pocket in his barding. “You’ll have customers soon.”

Cerberus stared at his filmy eyes while he dumbly waited for his memory to return. When it did, he powered on his thrusters and saluted the ghoul. “Ten-hut! All systems operational, you horseshoe-licking maggot farm!”

“How are you feeling today? Anything different?”

“Is my combat inhibitor still operational?”

“Right as rain, I’m afraid.”

Cerberus wasn’t surprised. The little mare wouldn’t do it. If not her, then there was nopony in Tartarus- in Meatlocker stupid enough to try. Least of all Windclop.

“Though I heard it’s not for lack of trying. You’re lucky that little mare came to her senses, Cerberus.”

“You’re lucky my inhibitor doesn’t malfunction.”

Windclop pulled in his skeletal wings and looked at Cerberus with a touch of disappointment. “I also heard the story. The whole story. Everything you told those smoothcoats. I know you get tired of hearing this, but we didn’t hurt your friends. We never knew them.”

“I know.”

Windclop’s wings jutted out in surprise. The mare at the bar stopped putting away bottles to stare. A ghoul practicing his tuba gasped into his instrument.

“Windclop, I want you to know something.” Cerberus inched closer to Windclop, his forward eye extending towards the ghoul. “When I break free of this combat inhibitor, I’m going to turn you into a green paste. Not because I think you killed my squad. Not because I think you would look better that way- though I should mention that you really would; you look like the ugliest mule in Equestria got run over by a tank. When I kill you, it will be because I hate your rotten face and I hate that you’ve kept my combat inhibitor in perfect working order for so long. I won’t go after your family, I won’t burn your belongings. You have my word as a soldier.”

The mare at the bar put her hooves on the counter. “Not that it’s any of my business, but Windclop’s never going to turn off that inhibitor if you keep saying you’re going to dust him.”

“Subtlety is for filthy stripes.”

The mare opened her mouth again, but Windclop held up a hoof to silence her. “Cerberus, I understand that you still want to kill me. I don’t understand why. Why are you still so dead set on this?”

Cerberus broke his gaze and hovered over to the bar. The mare returned to shelving bottles. Windclop trotted over and sat in front of Cerberus, looking pointedly at the arm tipped in a plasma gun. When Cerberus noticed, each of his eyes spun to point at Windclop one by one.

“It says, ‘Never lose faith,’ right?”

“…Affirmative.”

Windclop gave a brief pause before he continued. “That little unicorn friend of yours said she’s been where you are now, Cerberus. She and her friends had to take their leave, otherwise I’m sure she’d be saying this to you now instead of me.”

“You say this like I would care what some ooze-covered ghoul-hugger has to say to me.”

“Cerberus, you’re in a city of the dead. Everypony here has lost their faith once. We’re still here because we learned to bring it back.”

“And now I’ll care what some ooze-spilling ghoul has to say?” Cerberus realigned his eyes to their resting position. “I can’t bring them back, anyways.”

Windclop stared at Cerberus. Cerberus stared at nothing. The mare at the bar stared at her work, trying to finish it and exit as quickly as her hooves would allow.

“Put your faith in me, Cerberus.”

Windclop got a skeptical glance from Cerberus’ right eye. "Permission denied, you walking compost heap.”

“I promise you that I can find something to hang your faith on. Something your friends would be proud of. And I swear on my good name that if I don’t… I’ll disable your combat inhibitor. I’ll stand before you, unarmed, and wait to be disintegrated. You have my word as a diplomat, politician, and janitor.”

Windclop had each of Cerberus’ eyes again. The gutsy had nothing to say for a long moment. His speakers hissed out the beginnings of several responses. He settled on a simple, “Affirmative.”

Windclop smiled and offered a lame salute with a bony wingtip. Cerberus returned it curtly.

“Keep your weapon. When I kill you, I’m not executing you like some shameless zebra.”

“That’s… better than anything I’ve heard you say so far, Cerberus. Maybe you’ll never lose your hatred. I just hope that someday you'll have something else to feel.” Windclop dropped his salute and trotted off to other duties.

“You know…” the mare began, still stacking bottles. “He didn’t say when he would do any of that. And he’s a ghoul! We can live just as long as a robot, you know.”

Cerberus said nothing, waiting for the rush of partygoers to begin.

“Admit it, you’re going soft. Do you even want that thing off your back?”

“What I want, Private,” growled Cerberus, lowering his right eye to be level with the mare, “Is for you to shoot me square in the central processor if I ever- EVER –show signs of becoming some pansy-ass zombie-hugger.”

Comments

[Mel]

I must not know what 'Epilogue' means. Oh well.

[Stormy Sunrise]

Lol reading army chat always makes me giggle a little. Nice story but i must request THAT YOU GIVE ME MORE YOU GHOUL-LOVING MEAT-SHIELD