//------------------------------//
// The Fourth Congregation 
// Story: The Conversion Bureau: Tortured Soul 
// by The REAL Mister Pkmn 
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Celestia awoke the next morning, still troubled by stray thoughts. Thinking on them would do her no good, so she put them aside as she focused on the meal that had been left behind. Even so, she could not help but wonder if some other power was at play here. She shook her head, and exited her room- only to bump into Tortured in the hallway. “Oh! Sorry about that! I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Tortured scoffed indignantly. “Don’t play that card. I’m no fool, Celestia. You may pull the wool over the eyes of your ponies, but you’ll have no luck with that here.” He made a motion towards the hall. “Let’s go. I’ll have you out of my hair soon enough.”

The pair walked in silence down the Hall of Presidents, as one of her escorts had called it last night. As they passed each one, she couldn’t help but feel some kind of presence looking at her- but such a thing was ludicrous, right? She shook herself out of her musings, and she found they were back in the Oval Office. The guards- or Secret Service as she had heard them called- from yesterday weren’t there, so Tortured led her to the teleporter. “Alright, set destination: London Square.” The machine whirred to life, and the energy began to charge. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One! Energize!”

Once again, they were whisked away in beams of light. When the light died down, they were in an area unfamiliar to Celestia. In the distance was a tower with a clock on all of its faces. The area itself was quite interesting, too. The rest of the visible city was far more high-tech, but only this small park was similar to something back home. She even saw a few objects flying through the air that she could only akin to a chariot- just with nopony pulling it. Of course these objects were far more sleek than that, but it was the best comparison she had. She guessed that all of the cities of Earth probably had them- it was just that she could not see any through the many tall steel towers in the previous city she’d been taken to.

Reporters found their way onto the scene, and one questioned Tortured. “Mr. President, what will this test entail for Celestia? Do you think she’ll pass?”

Tortured took the object that Celestia had learned was called a “microphone” in his hand, and spoke into it. “Well, this next test is about honesty- and knowing the track record that one can glean from my book series, her chances are about 50%. Remember though, about 75% of all had passed the first one- so the more things go on, the slimmer the chances will get. That is, until she ultimately fails. None have ever survived the scrutiny of the eighth trial. NOT. ONE.” He turned to Celestia, his fingers in a snapping position. "Now, for the test of Orange Honesty! Let's see what you're made of, cretin." He snapped his fingers, and an orange ring surrounded Celestia’s neck. Tortured then explained. “Alright, time to answer some questions. Let’s begin with… Tell me, did you set up your sister to become Nightmare Moon so you could secretly mold her into your little puppet once she was ‘cleansed’?”

She saw the audience of humans judging her, peering into her soul. She also could feel the confidence her ponies had in her, making her able to stand the scrutiny. “No. I regret that I did not pay attention to her concerns that the ponies did not love her. Had I done something back then, it is likely that she never would have become Nightmare Moon at all. Luna is my sister; I would never try and control her like that!”

The ring around Celestia’s neck glowed brightly, before dimming back down. However, Tortured was not done just yet. “Next Question. Did you intentionally seek out Twilight Sparkle specifically to become a fourth alicorn so that you could make her a perfect replacement for you in the event that you retire?”

Celestia shook her head. “I stumbled upon Twilight by chance alone; and I had no intention of making her act like me, nor does she. She has grown into her own as the Princess of Friendship, and I am proud of her work. As for if she could run Equestria… I am positive she could, given time.”

Once more, the ring glowed brightly before the glow faded. Tortured scoffed a little, and proceeded onwards. “Next Question. Do you forgive Discord for siding with Tirek when he escaped? Or, is it some ploy to get in his good graces?”

Taking a deep breath, Celestia kept her cool. “I am not a manipulator like that, Tortured. While what Discord did was wrong, I have long since forgiven him. He is a dear friend, and I wouldn’t use him like that.”

As the ring lit up again, Tortured’s left eye visibly twitched. The glow dimmed again, and Tortured regained his composure. He then addressed her once more. “Last Question. What else have you hidden from your ponies? You let Luna, Discord, Sombra, Tirek, the Pony of Shadows, and Grogar all slip into obscurity. Who’s to say what else you hide from them?”

Celestia could see it in his eyes that he thought he had her. He thought that he’d trapped her, that he would prove himself right here, once and for all. Yet, Celestia felt no qualms in proving him wrong. “I didn’t try and obscure them- that happened on its own. I did try and keep the knowledge of them public, yet ponies decided to forget them. It’s not my fault that they chose to be in the dark- I knew that these threats would come back some day, but ponies relegated my predictions to old mare’s tales. I myself did start to think so at a point, but when Luna came back- that was when I knew that the others would likely follow. Since I knew that they were likely not to listen, I let them discover them on their own- a bit of a faux pas on my part, I will admit. Regardless, the threats have been dealt with, and Equestria is better for it.”

The ring glowed one last time, causing the crowd to whisper amongst themselves. Tortured snapped his fingers, and the ring disappeared. “Well. Congratulations. Best results I’ve ever seen, once again…” At this, murmurs in the crowd grew to a fever pitch. But Tortured held up a hand, and they died down just as quickly. “No matter. Let’s cut to the chase: One question, one answer.”

Celestia thought a bit, before settling on her query. “How many have you broken? How many Equestrias have you left bereft of a Celestia?”

At that, Tortured blinked, then shrugged. “Do not act like I’m the monster here. I was only doing so to protect my people. As for how many… easily a few thousand, if not more. They were monsters, so I destroyed them. Simple.” At Celestia’s horrified look, he shook his head. “Don’t act so surprised. Every version of you is pure scum. Play your games all you want. You will be exposed for the monster you are.” He turned to the crowd. “The show’s over, move along.” He snapped his fingers, and the two of them were back in the Oval Office. He turned away from her, and addressed one of the Secret Service. “Escort her to her room. I need space.” Once more, Celestia was taken out of the room, and escorted away.





Once all of his Secret Service were out of the room, Tortured lit his hand. He needed more than just space. He needed to think. He turned the photo hanging behind his desk into a portal, and jumped through. He found himself in a secret space, that none of his Secret Service knew about. It was an empty room, save for a single mahogany desk with a tattered book on its surface. Light shone from above, giving detail to the torn book. Its navy blue binding was faded and worn, and the golden etchings had long since gone. One could barely make out a single word on the front: Journal. There was once a name above it with an apostrophe s after it, but it had long since been blotted out. Tortured winced. Time had not been kind to his journal, despite his efforts to keep it together. He sat at the chair at his desk, and perused his journal. Reading old entries did wonders for his addled mind, to remind himself of where he came from. After sifting through the pages for what seemed like hours, he found a blank page. It never ceased to amaze him that he still had any of those left in the old book. Taking great care, he took out a pen and began to write down the events of the day.