//------------------------------// // A Dead Crowd // Story: Friendship and Space Magic. What could go wrong? // by Redstargazer //------------------------------// The underworld. The final destination for all those who shed their mortal coil, regardless of species, age, or rank. Depending on which section is mentioned, parents may use it to frighten their children into behaving or give them a goal to work towards. Tartarus is best known as the prison of the Titans that doubles as a punishment for the wicked that squandered their lives on evil. Elysium is reserved as a paradise for the special few that earned their place as heroes. The Asphodel Fields is left for those sad sops that were neither kind nor evil enough to warrant judgement either way. One place, however, is rarely mentioned in these tales as it is rarely considered worth mentioning. And yet, many souls that pass through may consider it the worst region of the lot: Erebus. Erebus is a land of darkness where all souls first enter before their final judgement in one of the three main regions. Time has no meaning here and may slow, hasten, or simply stop independently of the rest of creation. One may wait for minutes or millennia in this empty place before their fate is decided. The constant flux between suspense and boredom in this place left many wondering if this place was truly meant as an extension of Tartarus used as a final test of worthiness. Whatever the case, many that pass consider it the most tedious section of the afterlife and thought it could not become worse. They were proven wrong when it changed with modern times and gained a new name that would be dreaded by all. The waiting room. Imagine the waiting room of every business, hospital, and administrative facility. Imagine each individual detail that made each such room tiresome: scratchy chairs, dull and faded paint, elevator music, molded carpet, etc. Then, combine those details and boil them down to their pure essence of tedium before reshaping it into a cramped space where every soul that is, was, and will be is somehow stuffed in it. Such is the current fate of Maredusa as she awaits new judgement. Stripped of her power, Maredusa looked much like any other unicorn aside from somewhat darker than normal coloring. Her mane and tail were dark blue and her main coat was colored venom green. The wings were lost as well as the leggy dainty frame she possessed in her full powered form. Her saber-like horn was reduced to a simple spiral horn found on most unicorns. The only remaining attributes left from her transformation was her slitted eyes and single remaining serpent in her mane that occasionally poked its head out. Instead of cursing the heavens or spewing endless promises of death to her enemies, her willpower honed by millennia was instead focused on maintaining some semblance of sanity as she awaited judgement. She idly rested her chin on a fore hoof as she tried to ignore the scratching sensation of the ancient chair she occupied. Her eyes were closed to spare her the sight of the peeling wall paper and her ears folded against the never-ending pseudo jazz that played over static-y speakers. She was obviously slated for another term in Tartarus so why did they even bother stuffing her here?! No matter how hard she thought, Maredusa doubted things could get any worse. Her self-pity time of rumination was interrupted by an obnoxious voice that stunk of faux culture. “Maredusa, darling! Fancy meeting you here!” And when you think you’re rock bottom, the universe rears its ugly head to prove otherwise, she thought dourly as her teeth ground audibly before she schooled her features and turned to address the presence. She bared her teeth in the closest approximation of a smile she could give, just short of an animalistic snarl, as she regarded the creature before her. The serpentine creature floated in the air as if suspended in water. Its lower half seemed to be that of a sea serpent with blue scales. The top half might have been compared to a gryphon except for the fact that the same blue scales from the tail took the place of feathers. The ‘feathers’ making her wings were transparent scales that created flickers of light showcasing alternating colors of the rainbow depending on how the light hit them. Similar scales formed a crest on her avian-looking head giving the impression of a crown of light. The smile on the creature’s beak may have been mistaken for something gentle and motherly were it not for that insufferable condescension radiating from her slitted indigo eyes anytime she regarded…well, anything and anyone really. Maredusa’s hackles rose at the sight of the creature before her and inwardly she mourned the fact that she couldn’t even take satisfaction in imagining ways to end its existence. After all, being where they were made such thoughts a moot point. “Ah, wonderful. It always is such an experience to see you…mother.” The creature tittered musically as she coiled her serpentine form to take the seat adjacent to Maredusa’s. “Oh Maredusa, dear, do call me Overture.” She breathed on her talons, buffed them on her scales, and regarded them idly regarding them before continuing, “I prefer that only my successful children call me mother.” “Wow. Must have been quite a while since you’ve heard that then,” Maredusa said in a tone of mock pity. “Certainly, not since the tramp trio were given a swift buck from this universe by Starswirl.” “Now now, Maredusa, you really shouldn’t speak so ill of your younger sisters,” Overture admonished as she pulled out a compact seemingly from nowhere to inspect the state of her facial scales. A slight smirk crossed her beak as Maredusa’s eye twitched at the emphasis on ‘younger.’ “No point in being a poor sport simply because they inherited my charms, along with my talent for song, rather than get them from a spell book.” The last statement was delivered with a brief, sideways glance at Maredusa before returning to the compact. “Salty sluts that were famous for sucking the joy out of the air whenever they weren’t sleeping with and/or eating anything with a pulse.” Maredusa held a hoof to her chin in thought. “Hmmm. Yup. That certainly sounds like they took after mummy dearest. Which reminds me.” She looked over at Overture with a look of curiosity. “Would you be so kind as to help me settle a bet I’ve had running with one of the other lost souls these last few thousand years? They think you bore the gryphons, dragons, and sirens into existence after a fling with Discord. I bet something a little closer to your taste: In the beginning of time, you bore half the universe’s life after slutting it up with the first half…And then the second half to make yourself feel younger.” Overture snapped the compact shut and turned toward Maredusa with beak opened in answer before being interrupted by a screeching from overhead. The imitation Jazz was replaced by a bored, nasally voice droning, “Overture, please report to room 46 for torment. Overture to room 46 for torment.” As the speakers switched back to the audio torture, Overture thought for a moment before sighing as she remembered which torment was designated for that room. “And that would be the room where weasels eat your talons off. Well, charming as this conversation has been, there is a far pleasanter diversion awaiting me.” She uncoiled from the chair and floated toward the exit. Before leaving, she glanced over her shoulder back to Maredusa and said with a casual wave, “If nothing else, I suppose I should congratulate you on making the front page of Canterlot Times. Better than nothing, certainly.” Maredusa sat grumbling in her chair for a few moments before her expression blanked. Her face swiveled back to where Overture left. “Wait. Front page of Canterlot Times? Even Elysium doesn’t have access to mortal subscriptions.” Overcome with curiosity, she slipped from her chair and trotted to the office window where she knocked on the metal shutters closing it off from the rest of the waiting room. Within the office was a massive being named Cottus. Like the others of his kind, known as Hecatoncheires, he had a hundred hands and fifty heads. At the moment, those hundred hands were in a flurry of movement between filling out forms, answering phones, and organizing files. Forty-nine of those heads turned from their tasks, the rather depressed looking fiftieth (that insisted on being called Doris for some reason) remained facing its normal post at the intercom, to rage at whoever dared interrupt his work. Each of those heads yelled out their own responses to be heard over the others. “Who is it?!” “What is it?!” “What do you want?!” “Speak up!” “I’m busy!” “Make it snappy skank!” Maredusa’s left eye twitched at the impudence, particularly at the last comment, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel much more than mild annoyance due to a massive amount of pity she felt for the poor wretch in front of her. It was unanimously agreed amongst all prisoners of Tartarus, from those in the fire pits to those under the personal care of the Furies, that Cottus was dealt the worst punishment of all. One that left many more than willing to accept any punishment they were assigned. He was made eternally and solely responsible for all tasks and assignments relating to the Underworld’s bureaucracy. Considering the task could overwhelm an army of seasoned bureaucrats and grew worse with the Underworld’s expansion at each death, Maredusa’s mild irritation at Cottus quickly fizzled out. Besides, she had other concerns besides a doomed bureaucrat’s disrespect. “I heard something about a copy of the Canterlot Times floating around. Would you happen to have a copy?” For the first time in centuries, the sorting and filing room went silent as all of Cottus’ hands stilled. All fifty heads slowly turned and regarded Maredusa with an intensity that left her struggling to avoid a shiver fighting its way up her spine. She nearly lost that struggle for composure as all fifty heads, even the normally morose Doris, grinned sadistically and spoke as one in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Ohhhhhh? You’d like a paper, Maredusa? No problem.” One of his hands darted to the side and passed it to her waiting hoof. “Here you go. Please…enjoy.” With that, Cottus slammed the window shut with enough force to blow Maredusa’s mane back and the sounds of sorting resumed from within. Thoroughly unnerved, Maredusa took a deep breath and looked down at the paper in hoof. The front page was dominated by a blown-up picture of her screaming into battle. Unfortunately, said picture had her with her tongue hanging out with spittle flying about looking less like a bloodied warrior and more like dog foaming at the mouth. The headline read, Resident Space Alien sends Stray back to the Pound. They even put out extra spending to include enchantments to make the picture emit dog barks every so often. The halls of Tartarus echoed with the wails of the damned suffering for their crimes, much as it had since time immemorial. That is, until tormenter and tormented alike were startled into momentary silence by a single screech. “I’LL KILL HIIIIIM!!!” **** Things were finally slowing down at Canterlot. It had been several days since the museum standoff. The papers were finally allowing the incident to fade from the front page to be replaced by the customary business, celebrity talk, and sports. Guard patrols had been reduced back to the regular numbers and parents allowed their foals to go back to playing in their normal grounds…though they may have been keeping a closer watch than normal. The castle itself had gotten quieter aside from shifting numbers in guard presence. Celestia herself was stuck at the desk in her private study behind a mountain of paperwork. That itself might have seemed normal, but a lot of the paperwork was regarding to repairs on the museum or reports on new changes for security. It was less than it had been, but enough to bother her. Even the thoughts of this new Laundry Legion she was commissioning Jeff to start wasn’t quite enough to cheer her up. She kept her feelings well hidden, aside from those who knew her like Luna, but she couldn’t help feeling guilt for something like this happening on her watch. Guilt…and more than a little anger. Images of the past flashed into her mind: foals crying, shattered stone pieces, Maredusa’s cruel laughter. Celestia snarled and she glared at the paperwork in front of her as if trying to set blaze to it by her gaze alone. “Princess Celestia?” The princess quickly schooled her expression to her normal motherly smile as she looked up to see her major domo patiently waiting by the door. “Ah, Raven. Has something come up?” She sighed, “Or maybe you are delivering more paperwork?” “…in a sense,” the aging mare eventually said before standing to the side to allow a black suited stallion to walk in. His mane was colored silver and coat a darker grey. He sported a grin so wide that his eyes seemed to crinkle shut making it difficult to tell his eye color. The stallion’s presence prompted a confused frown from the princess that quickly turned to surprise when she spotted a platinum lapel pin with the likeness of a cypress tree. “And what would Lord Hades need?” Celestia asked warily. “Firstly, the Master wishes for me to pass along his apologies for the trouble caused by this latest lapse in security,” the bowed lightly, his grin never changing. His manners seemed courtly enough, but that grin and dry voice seemed to make a mockery of it. There wasn’t anything supernatural about the stallion, Celestia would have surely sensed anything like that, but he always left her fighting a chill from crawling down her spine. She never did understand her brother’s fondness for the types he hired. “Please give him my thanks for the sentiment but it’s unnecessary,” she politely demurred. “I’m not exactly innocent of mistakes in this matter, myself.” “As you will, Your Majesty,” the stallion nodded as he reached into his suit. “The second matter is in regard to a recent development with one of our wards.” He pulled out a letter and stepped forward to pass it to the princess from across the desk. My, such a lofty way to say ‘convicts’, Celestia thought sarcastically. “And that is?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she accepted the letter. “After processing their case, the Master has decided that it would be best for a transfer. Ideally, to the custody of this new guest of yours. Jeff, I believe you call him?” “Jeff?!” Celestia exclaimed in shock as she halfway opened the letter. She turned back to the letter as she continued, “I don’t make a habit of contradicting my brother in his business, but I fail to see the wisdom in this. Not only is Jeff a new inhabitant and unknown, but what is known leaves me doubtful that he would…be…. suitable,” her voice trailed off as a name in the message caught her attention. She stared at the letter as her mind, still a bit weary from her earlier struggles with bureaucracy, attempted to process the implications this letter held. “…he…hehe.” It started as a slight chuckle. Chuckles devolved into giggles. In no time at all, Princess Celestia, considered a master of poker faces and emotional control, was consumed with mirth to the point of rolling on the floor as her laughter filled the room. Raven watched in wide-eyed shock as she had never seen anything cause the Princess to lose her control while the stallion watched on with that same grin. His grin, against all possibilities, seemed to grow slightly as he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the alicorn’s raucous laughter, “Yes, the Master thought this little bit of news would make your day.”