//------------------------------// // Chapter 56 // Story: Old Scars, New Chances // by Arcticbrony //------------------------------// The next few days passed without incident. Spirit continued his investigation of his home, and especially the forest behind it, but, no evidence could be found. He had gone so far to even map the entire area in his magic, recording a mental image of the area, should something change in the future.   The nightmares continued, much to his dismain, making him snappy and annoyed in the morning hours. He had tried visiting the local herbalist, to get some natural mix to hopefully soothe his dreams, or make him stop dreaming all together. But that would require some rare herbs, which meant he would have to endure for a week, according to the zebra who ran the shop. Oh how he hated the nightmares, they had never been so bad either. There were flames, seas of flames around him, no, not just him. Within the sea, were other ponies, ponies he knew, ponies he used to work with. What they had done were bad, but nothing to deserve anything like that. Some of their so called crimes was even to further press the supremacy of ponies as a race, especially unicorns. Their screams he could handle, begging for forgiveness, cursing vengeance, or just from the burning pain alone. No, what bothered him, and haunted his waking moments, were the eyes. The sky above them was one never ending expanse of eyes. Staring, judging. Their sizes differed, as did the coloring, but every single one of them followed him and his every movement. At times, one of the eyes fell from the sky, its gaze never leaving him, even as it fell, before it hit the fire sea, sending flames and sparks everywhere. But from the spot where it had fell, another one had already taken its place. It was maddening. He could not stop thinking about those eyes. What did they mean? His coffee use had skyrocketed in those days, as the hours of sleep he got was shortening day by day. For every hour that he missed, a few more cups of black bitter liquid would take its place.   He had also started working on backup plans. He did not want to leave the village, he has spent most of his bits creating this new life for himself. While he could not afford a new house, he had enough to go on the run and support himself for a while, if needed. He would fake a house fire, leave a fake, or another real body to burn up while he disappeared. He still had some old contacts he would reach out to in a bind. Hopefully they would help him, instead of turning him in for some quick bits… he would have to weight that risk. But he had stayed inside for far too long, he was still feeling terrible, he was always tired, and his head had hurt without end for the last two days. He ate painkillers like candy to deal with it. Not a healthy thing to do, but it was a short term solution. His coworkers expected him to make a return, as did Merry expect him to take her out to make up for the last two dates me missed. He was not in perfect condition, but he could tough it out. The suns glaring rays burned horribly and made him flinch when he opened the door. Yeah, he had definitely been cooped up in the darkness for far too long. He blinked the worst of the spots away and locked his door, before heading out into their quaint village. Ponies immediately noticed him and seemed rejoiced at his return to the land of the living. He was showered with questions and inquiries about how he was, what had happened to him, had it been contagious, and was it true that he had been replaced by a Ditto. He was not initially sure what a Ditto was, though it seemed like it was similar to the changelings that infested their pony lands, but it was a Pokémon. Only a few days and some silly rumors had already begun to surface. He ensured them all that he was fine, that it had just been a passing sickness, that he was in fact, not a Ditto and that he was in full health again. A quick show of his trademark illusions was enough to put the silly replacement rumor to rest.        “I need to get to work, I'll see you all later.” He bid the crowd farwell. His mind wandered a bit and he started to ponder about how much progress the other stallions had made on the building. It should be getting close to being finished if they continued at the rate they had been going. It was just a simple job where he could use some of his previous skills. But, despite telling himself that, it did feel good to build something that he knew that somepony would use in the future. It made him feel, something. Like he had done a good job, as if he had done something impactful, not truly important in the bigger picture, but still. It took him a little while before he realized it. He felt proud. He had been proud of his previous work with The Weavers, but not in the same way. It was always that they did what needed to be done, the right thing for ponykind, and for each other. But this… felt different. A good kind of different. When he got to the work site, his sense of pride for his work and workmates grew even more, it was clearly not finished, there was still scaffolding on the outside, and building materials being carried all over, but it could not be more than a few days off completion. “Hey there is our cripple,” Spirit staggered as Hardhat bumped into him. “Have you been a good boy and followed the doctor’s orders?” The way he said it, Spirit could not help it, and he let out a short laugh. “Close enough at least, I'm feeling much better.” And he was actually enjoying seeing his clingy friend again too. “That's great, really great. So, can I tell the boys that you are returning?” “Definitely, I'll be back on time tomorrow.” It would be a hard first few days with how tired he was, but he had worked on little to no sleep before. And he needed to get himself busy with something like work once again. His time locked in his home had really strained his sanity. “That's what I wanted to hear,” he got a crushing hug for that comment, and while it hurt, he could get used to it. “So, are you up to a trip to the bar this evening?” Had anypony asked him that a a few days ago, he would have turned them down immediately, but, with how much he had been stressing lately, perhaps he needed to wind out a little. And spending some time with Hardhat, did not sound entirely unpleasant. “Yeah, I think I have time for that.” Spirit shambled back home, his legs wobbly and his eyesight unsteady. “Jusht one drink he shaid,” but one drink had turned into two, then three, then the shots came. Spirit had, in his previous life as Shady, prided himself in being able to drink with dignity, knowing his limit. That all changed when his friend Hardhat was thrown into the mix. He had this way with words that made it seem so harmless to agree with him. It took a little longer than usual, but eventually he managed to find his way back home. His magic was unsteady, and it took a minute for him to work his keys just right… he stopped. He did not remember the lights being on when he left. Oh well, he probably just forgot. He went inside and let his saddlebags hit the floor, not bothering to put them nicely. He turned to close the door when his breath caught in his throat. His magic faltered and the keys dropped down onto the floor, where they clattered loudly in his empty home. There, on the wall, were two big red words, spray painted right onto the wall, the paint still wet and dripping down onto the floor. WE KNOW His breath started quickening and his heart felt like a jackhammer, panic was starting to set it. His eyes darted around the big letters, no, no, this could not be happening, he had spent time working to prevent just this sort of thing. His traps… his traps! He hurried to the backdoor, leaning on the wall for support. Who knew? His mind raced, had somepony he worked with followed him? No, too much time had passed, they would not have stayed hidden for that long. Somepony in the village learned his secret? Why would they break into his home and paint a message on his walls then. If a pony in the village knew, they should have turned him in. Why didn't they? “Doesn't make any sense.” He muttered, he was too drunk for this, his brain swam with thoughts and theories, but he was unable to focus on any of them for too long “Blackmail?” He did not have a lot of bits, and he would rather see them dead than give them anything in the first place. He arrived at the door, and checked it closely, it was still locked, there were no hoofprints either. Opening it, he came out into the darkened garden and entrance to the forest. His horn lit up and he winced in pain, alcohol combined with magic was never a good idea. A wave of light washed out from his horn, back out into the forest. It would pick up anything new or noticeable from the last time he scanned the area, but to his surprise, apart from a few sticks, bugs and leaves having moved, nothing major was there.   Turning, he blinked in surprise as spots had lit up in his living room, in his stupor he had sent the spell all around him, not just forward. Moving to investigate, he found several hairs that was illuminated by his magic. Short hairs, not his, or they would not have been picked up by his magic. Had anypony else been at his house lately? Merry had, but she had not entered his home, nor was her coat brown like those hairs were.   There were too few to pull off a tracking spell, too few to do anything with really. He could have them tested for all sorts of things, but it would do nothing. “Nothing!” He screamed in anger, stomping the ground before having to catch himself from falling. He had to wash the paint away, if anypony else saw it they would begin to ask questions, and then he would have to get rid of them, which would lead to more complications and eventually to him relocating again. He felt a slight burning sensation in the back of his throat. But before that, he had to throw up. Curse Hardhat and his friendly nature. There was not a lot of sleep to be had the rest of that night. Shady spent the entire time cleaning the paint and stressing over the break-in. At the end when he collapsed from fatigue, just two hours remained until the alarm clock would ring, and he would have to go to work. The alarm clock rang, but the Shady did not wake, he was too tired and managed to shut out the sound of the clock completely. He needed the rest, badly. But fate had other plans, and just thirty minutes later, Hardhat had shown up himself to make sure that Spirit came to work on time. Shady had wanted nothing more than to ignore him and continue sleeping, but he knew that it was impossible to ignore Hardhat for a longer period of time. And that proved true as Hardhat let himself in. The rest of the day was close to torture for Spirit. Hardhat had not come out scott-free from the night before either, and was taking it easy at work, but Spirit had it way worse. The hours stretched, making the day painfully long, and without the constant supply of coffee and painkillers being popped like snacks, Spirit was sure he would have perished that day.    But, as all things, the work day too, eventually ended. The sun was nearing the horizon when Spirit came onto the marketplace, the orange evening light basking everypony in a warm glow. The merchants were handling the last customers of the day, and a few of them had started to pack up. He found Merry with a small line, two ponies ahead of him. From the looks of it, it had been a busy day for Merry too, she had very few wares left on display. “Here is your order, Berry, I hope your husband like it,” she handed the purple mare a package, it was tightly packed in paper so it was impossible to tell what it was. The mare thanked Merry for her service, paid her a few bits and left, now only one pony stood between him and her. “Aww, I was hoping to pick up a new flower vase, but there are barely anything left.” He did not know the pony, it was a old mare, who seemed genuinely disappointed. “Oh I’m so sorry, Ms Buckerbottom, it's been a busy day. But if you tell me what kind of vase you want, I can make it a custom order and have it ready for you in a few days.” The old mare then proceeded to tell Merry in great detail how she wanted her vase to be. From the size, to the floral pattern she wanted, what color. Spirit did not pay that much attention to it, he was focused on Merry. He had disregarded Merry in the past, viewed her as a tool or a nuisance, but she had something about her. She was hard working, honest, and she genuinely seemed to care about the ponies around her. Everything that he was not.     “She is the one who wrote the message on your wall, why else would she be trying to get close to you?” He shook his head, where had that thought come from? No, Merry would not do that to him, she was too kind for anything like that. Right? “She is a liability, take her out.” Why was he thinking these things? If she was a liability, then of course she had to be taken out, but there was no proof of that yet. Could he risk it though? What if her job was to keep him there until the guard arrived? Pretending to like him would make sense then. He would have to move fast, pack up, flee, burn the house, set fire to several random surrounding buildings to create panic and chaos. Slip away in the confusion, yes, that's what he had to do, he had no time to lose he- “Spirit? Is everything okay?”    But what if they had already anticipated that? No, he could not risk spilling guild secrets, if they caught him all would be lost. He was adamant about not talking, but if they had skilled unicorns… or Pokemon, that would not matter at all. Those damn psychic types, a lot of them could just reach into a mind and grab what they needed, he had seen it himself, he had forced them to do it to others to get info for The Weavers. The side effects… were unpleasant to say the least. No, he would need a backup plan if he was caught, poison? He was never that good with poison though, and he had no known supplier nearby. He hated to be crude, but if push came to shove, be may just have to slit his own- “SPIRIT!” His eyes focused and he saw no more ponies between him and Merry, who were looking at him with a worried expression, leaning over her counter, ready to jump it from the looks of it. “Y-yes?” “Are you alright? You were staring off into nothing for a little while there.” She removed her forelegs from her counter and walked around to the outside of her stall. “You are not still sick, are you? You really should not be out and about if that's the case.” `She wants to keep you inside, keep you close, waiting while they come to strike!` “N-no, I'm, I'm much better, I was back at work today even.” “Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that.” She came in close, and he flinched as she leaned in to give him a short hug. He wanted to relax, to return the warm gesture, but all that he could concentrate on was the voice, screaming at him to stab her, to end it right then and there. “So, do you feel well enough for our date now?” She broke the hug and offered him a gentle, welcoming smile. “Yeah, I think I do.” The pair decided to have the date the day after, neither seeing any reason to wait any longer. They were to meet at the local cafe; the Sunny Morning, for coffee. Nothing too special, just something small and nice to start things off.                            Spirit knew that he should call it early, but the message on his wall was still fresh in his mind, and so he stayed up late casting alarm spells around his house, nopony could enter know without alerting the entire neighborhood. He put up actual physical traps near his backdoor, if anypony entered, they would find their legs hurt or broken, they would not go anywhere and would be easy to find.   It was past midnight by the time he was done, he was tired, exhausted even, both physically, from working on all those traps, and mentally, he could not remember the last time he had had a good night's sleep. Spirit took a few sleeping pills. He had still not gotten the herbs that would help him with his nightmares, but it would have to do. The pills would not start working immediately, so, he laid down in his bed, and tried to relax. Preparing his mind for the nightmares to come, trying to calm it, to make the welcome embrace of sleep come sooner. But he simply could not stop thinking. He stared up into the planks in his roof, the green tapet on the walls, and focused in on the sound of the wind outside, making the trees of the forest, groan as their mighty branches moved against their will. What if they were outside right now, he had been careless with his lights, he had not covered the windows enough while he was working, so anypony could see that he was still up. They would realize that he was going to bed now, and that it would be the perfect time for them to strike. No, no, he should trust his traps and alarms. While a intruder could evade the traps, they would not evade the alarm. A skilled unicorn could detect and possibly dispel or bypass the first one, but the second and third was much more complex and hidden with help from his illusions.   Would they care about the alarm though? Of course, right? Everypony within a few blocks, would hear them, they would be caught on the spot… unless they are guards, they would not care about an alarm, they were within their right after all, the law on their side. The alarm would give him enough time to escape though. His teleport skills was pretty much nonexistent, but he had spent time and bits to set up a teleporting array in the basement. The magical runes would burn up after use, nopony, except for maybe the princesses themselves, could pick up on the magical signature it would leave behind and use it to follow or track his arrival location. No, no he should stop overthinking it so much, it was not healthy after all, he needed his rest, and he was as safe as he could be. “No I’m not.” He raised his head and stared out the window. “I have left all these unnecessary risks be, let them surround me. I have become weak, I would never make mistakes such as this!” He was Shady, one of the most successful officers of The Weavers, why did he reduce himself to this? How did he trick himself into thinking that this was okay? “It was this or run forever though, and what kind of life would that have been?” “A life on the road or jail? Worse? Maybe the road would have been better. I know where she lives, where they all live.” Shady's horn lit up, and a outline of the town materialized in front of him. Miniature versions of all the buildings, roads and alleys, everything. “I have already planned it, we need to hit these buildings here, the fire will spread across,” he swiped his hoof across the illusion and a fire started spreading. “Just like we planned, it will seem like we died in the fire, then we can run.” “But Merry, we are finally going on a date with her tomorrow. I.. I actually want to go on a date with her. I don't want to use her in our plans, I dont see her as an asset anymore.” Spirit looked away from the illusion and it immediately disappeared. “We are weak! I know what I'm doing, I kept me going for this long, I can keep us going forward, yes, no one will stop us!” “No! We lived like that for years, i'm tired of a life like that! This life may be boring, but it’s pleasant. There are no more backstabs waiting behind every turn, no guard raids making us flee, abandoning everything behind. This is living, not just surviving.” He did not get much sleep that night, not at all actually. He managed to calm down eventually, but even then, even with his eyelids, heavy as minotaurs, sleep did not come. So, it was the usual morning routine, a cold shower and enough coffee to kill a lesser pony. He would make it through the day, he had something he was looking forward to after all. Unlike the day before, this one flew by. Perhaps it was his grogginess, transforming everything into a grey blur where some memories stuck and others floated by in the endless abyss. Or perhaps it was just that the gem at the end of the day was so enticing that nothing else mattered. Hardhat noticed of course, and teased him about it. Strangely enough though, he did not care. A week ago, even just a few days ago, he would have snapped back at him, trying to bite his head off. But he just took it in stride, for he had a date with a beautiful mare. He found himself almost tripping a few times on his way home, his head practically dragging along the ground, he definitely needed more coffee and some herbs to help keep his energy up for the rest of the night. And from how things had gone recently, he expected things to go south somehow. A intruder waiting on him when he came home, some of his traps broken, anything really. But, nothing happened, so, he just got ready for his date. He got his coffee, along with a little pick-me-up, a little herb blend he had learnt to make ages ago. Always kept a little stash of it, just in case. Just had to mix it with water, boil it up, let it cool down, before you sifted the liquid out from the herb rests, those were not needed anymore. Using a needle, he drew up a right amount of the liquid, and after a little searching; he was out of practice with this, he found a big enough vessel in his foreleg, and injected it. The sharp pain of the needle was gone almost immediately, and soon enough he would feel the energy he so needed. It would be a perfect night.    Merry had waited on him at the cafe when he arrived, no fancy dress or outfit, but she had tied up her mane in a gorgeous braid that went down her neck and ended on the right side where it curled up under her neck. She was undeniably beautiful. “Hey,” it was just a simple greeting, but it caught her attention, and a big smile broke out on her face. “Spirit! I'm so happy to see you!” She exclaimed loudly, ignoring the looks she got from the other ponies around.   “I hope I'm not late.” “No, not at all, I just came a little early. Come, I got you a menu,” She patted the chair next to hers. He felt a little heat rise up to his face, why had he had such silly thoughts earlier. Of course Merry was not some sort of undercover spy or soldier there to take him out. She was just a sweet, wonderful mare, he had, by some stroke of luck, caught the attention of. He shook his head, throwing those thoughts out, they had no place anymore. He had to relax and- “Spirit?” His eyes were locked on the wall of the cafe behind him. There, right on the wall, there was a few posters taped or nailed to the wall. Ponies looking to sell things, or offering services. But in the middle, there was a poster that struck right through his core. It was him, his old self. Shady.   “Spirit, talk to me!” His eyes flicked to Merry, she had fooled him there, put it up there just to taunt him, it was the end, he had to get away, he had to run! And that's just what he did. Spirit spun on the place and started galloping franticly away from that place. Somepony was screaming after him, but he shut it out, he would not be tricked. His legs pumped and his lungs burned as he flew down the street. With that to compare to, they would know immediately, his illusion was good, but he could not change his facial structure. He had been foolish, but he had not expected wanted posters, why had he been so stupid?! He kept looking back, but nopony was following him, why? Were they waiting for him at home? He came to a sudden stop. Yes, that made sense, why bother chasing somepony when they could just ambush him. He had done it himself multiple times, it was smart, but he was smarter, no pony would outsmart Shady. He would turn the tables on them, yes! They would not know what hit them. So, he kept to the shadows, and maneuvered to the outskirts of the town. The forest, he would use it to keep himself hidden. It took hours, and he received many scrapes and bruises, but eventually he came to a spot where he could observe his home safely from the shadows of the forest. Had they triggered his traps or alarms? He had not heard any alarms, but they could have disabled them, very unlikely, but possible. Worse, he could not check them, to check them he would need to get close, and if he moved out from his hiding spot, they would get him. No, he only had one choice. To wait, and see. For two whole days, he remained there in the forest. Eating grass off the ground and getting some water from small puddles that he could find. The nights were cold, the wind especially made it bad, but he remained vigilant. Not sleeping for more than an hour, before his mind snapped him back to attention. He would stare intently at the house, shifting his gaze between the windows, looking for light, movement, shadows, anything. There was some movement in the front not too long after he hid, some banding on his front door, but that did not last long. During the second night, there was a huge noise, some kind of rumble coming from within the town, half the town lit up with ponies waking up, he could see some of them running towards the sound, but he did not move. The morning after that, there was more commotion at his front door, with yelling and banging on his front door, he was not too sure who it was, he was too far away to hear their voice clearly. That lasted longer than the first one, but it too, ended. It was not until the evening of that second night that he dared to sneak back around his house and enter through the front door. He had not seen any movement from the inside, it was safe enough he assured himself. He would have abandoned the town already, made a run for the hills, if he had not stored his savings, and materials inside his home. He could not leave without them. He rushed inside, locking the door behind him. And finally he could light up his horn and check the traps and alarms. But his magic faltered, he steeled his resolve and focus, but it felt like a sledgehammer just hit his skull. He was a little tired, but was he really so out of it that he could not concentrate on his magic? A few days without sleep? He had gone through that before. He was younger back then but still. Nevermind that, he would not be staying long anyway. He rushed into his room, finding the hidden latch that led into his little basement. He dared not use his horn again, not even for something as easy as a light spell, so he climbed down and started fumbling around for a candle and matches. He knew he kept some down there, it was useful for when he needed to concentrate on other spells. He would grab his bits, the books he had saved when he escaped from Canterlot, torch the house and leave through his teleportation matrix. So much work had gone into that. He had been paranoid he had told himself, better safe than sorry his experience had told him. In the end, he was right. After several minutes of fumbling in the dark, and almost tripping a few times, he got ahold of both the candle and the box of matches. He sat down, put the candle on the ground and grabbed a match with his mouth. He shut his eyes as he lit it against the box, it was too close to his face for comfort. He barely opened his eyes and guided it down to the candle, where the wick happily accepted the flame. He spat out the match and opened his eyes fully. At first glance, the basement looked perfectly normal. A storage space, with a comfy carpet in the middle, to help with the cold stone floor. But he had made it look so, and he knew where to search. Under the box in the upper right corner, he had dug out a small part of the stone floor. The box was heavy, and he struggled against it without his magic, throwing his entire weight against it, until it finally moved aside. He reached down and picked up the wooden container, it was surprisingly light. “Why is it all gone!?” He had tossed the lid aside, and it was empty. His bits were gone. That… that was all the bits he had saved up. He had nothing else. “I will kill those ponies!” He threw the container against the wall, and it shattered into smaller pieces, showering the small room with wooden debris. “Its okay, its okay, a setback for sure, but nothing we can't smooth out.” Spirit spoke to himself. “We just need to find a good house, and rob them. Take what we need, enough for a fresh start.” “To think that I would be reduced to stealing like a common thief! Like trash” Shady roared. “I refuse to stoop that low, I have more dignity than that. It’s beneath me!” “It's only until we can find another way, we must do what we can to survive.” Spirit tried to cool him down, they would get nothing done like that. “What do you know? You have had it easy here, you have not had to deal with my life, all its hardships, all its downfalls. You have had it easy here in this village.” Shady sneered back, how dared he talk to him like that. He continued like that for a while, the time that passed in the cellas did not have any meaning to him. He had nowhere to run, if he left, they would catch him immediately. They just had to wait, he had to come out eventually. “They will starve us out.” Spirit shook, to think such a fate awaited them. “Don't be silly, they are just waiting for reinforcements, when enough come, they will rush us. Why wait when they have the advantage.” Had they gone over this before? It was possible, he was not sure, they were clouding his judgement, picking at his thoughts. He would not let them get his thoughts, he would rather destroy those himself. They were his, his to destroy. A sharp knocking caught his attention. They had come. “But why would they knock?” “SPIRIT!” A familiar voice? In fact, it sounded just like- “Hardhat? What's he doing here?” “Come out here you bastard!” He should just keep hiding though, he convinced himself. Nopony knew that he was there, he was safe. “You have the light on so I know you are awake!” “...Damn it,” he had forgotten about that. Well, if they knew that he was there, why did they not just rush him down? Spirits curiosity got the better of him and he climbed out of the basement, and snuck a glance down the hallway to where he could see the front door. “Yes you, get your ass over here!” He had not been careful enough, Hardhat had spotted him and was now knocking the door even harder. “W-what do you want.” He moved over to the door, but did not open it. “What do I want? Are ye serious right now? I want to punch yer stupid face in.” Well, he definitely did not sound like a undercover guard, but perhaps that was part of his trick. “How dare you to do that to Merry!?” “..What?” That put a stop to all thoughts he had. Why would he ask about that? He should not trust him, Hardhat just wanted to make him open the door! Why would he want that though? They had seen him kick down a brick wall before, a door would be no match for him if he really wanted to get it. It did not make sense… nothing made sense. Slowly, he reached up, his limp hoof weakly gripped the lock and turned it. He waited a second, then another, and another, but Hardhat waited for him. Why? He let his hoof fall down to the doorknob, and let it turn, his hood hung there for another second before dropped it to the floor again. Gravity did the rest of the work though, and the door slowly, opened inwards, revealing a furious looking Hardhat. He was breathing heavily, he was slightly damp, though it was not raining, and he had deep dark rings under his eyes. The door had just slid open before Spirit got a hoof right to the jaw, and he collided with the floor. “You thought that no one would look for ya? Is that it?” Spirit did not move though, he just laid on the floor. “Did you think that nopony would find out?” So he was right after all, this was how it ended. He could not take Hardhat in a fight, not without his magic. “Ye ran away from her screaming, what do ye think that does to a mare?” “W-what?” “Merry, ye fucking bufoon! Ye stood her up twice, and then this? Did ya just want to play with her feelings? She really liked ya, and she was treated like dirt, no worse than dirt. She has been stuck in her house ever since… kinda like you.” He heard a thump, and opened his eyes, to see that Hardhat had sat down in front of him. “Do you know what happened at work?” He looked up to see a pair of eyes searching his. “There was an accident, the bearing poles broke, the entire house went down, three ponies are in the hospital, Spirit.” “T-the smoke…” “Yes, it kicked up quite a lot of dust. I went over the blueprints myself Spirit. I'm no designer, im no architect, im a builder. But even I could spot such a obvious fault. The guys are convinced that ye changed the blueprints on purpose, you were the one who ordered the change after all. Did ya? Did ya do it on purpose?” “...I…” He had not changed anything, he had just followed the blueprints to the letter, he was sure of it. They had to change something because of a mistake they had done earlier but… “Ya know what… it does not matter. I wanted to believe in ya, Spirit, I truly did. But Merry is also a good friend, it don't matter that I fancy her, nopony should be treated like that. And I looked for ya, you were gone for two days, I… I was worried, ya bastard.”      “I thought..” “You thought what!” Hardhat screamed in his face, frustration pouring from his soul. “That ya could just do all this, disappear into thin air for a few days, then come back like nothing happened? I looked for ya you know. I searched for ya, no pony else would… but then you are back here, safe. Was it all just a big joke?” Spirit was quiet, not even Shady had anything to say. How could he? Hardhat had searched for him? He just laid there on the floor, empty. “You know what? Don't bother showing up at work anymore… you are not welcome there anymore. I could maybe… but the other guys? No, never. We are a team, Spirit, for better or worse.” He heard some movement, Hardhat stood up. “I thought that I would be happy to see you again, to see that you were safe… I thought that everything could be fine again. That I could have my mate back like nothing had happened...I don't know. I trusted ya, Spirit. But I guess I was wrong in that.” Spirit looked up and he hated what he saw. Pity, sadness, genuine. There was no goodbye, no more words, Hardhat just left him there on the floor, the cool wind blowing over him. “Hardhat…” He had not betrayed him. “He looked for me?” He had remained loyal, believed in him when nopony else was. Gave him the benefit of the doubt. “And Merry… she was really genuine. And I…” They had been his friends, Merry had wanted to become more, but Hardhat had been a true friend of his. Somepony had trusted him? All gone He had nowhere to go. Nopony to turn to… he had always thought that it was the case, but no, there had been somepony who would have helped him, believed in him, defended him. And he turned his back on that pony. It was painful, but he got up, he had had nothing before, lost everything before, at least he had thought so. It had never felt like that.   “I'm sorry,” it was too little, too late. But Shady meant it. “Plan D,” it came to him. It had always been a possibility. But it had not seemed like an option, not until that point. “Control until the end, yeah…” They were in agreement. His movements was slow, there was no hurry. And he actually felt a small smile grace his face. He got what he needed from the bathroom, a single bottle. He read its label once, twice, and one last time for good measure, then he moved to the kitchen. “It's been fun.” Shady gave his comment as they picked up a bottle, and carried it to the living room, to the sofa. He opened the bottle, and poured its content onto his hoof, and stared at it. The pills were white, small, so innocent looking. It was not victory, but they would be denying anypony else from winning. That was good enough. “No, it hasn't.” He put the pills into his mouth, took the bottle to his mouth and with the help of the burning liquid, swallowed. He did this again, and again, until the bottle was almost empty. He reached for another hoof-full, but that hoof never reached its target. It flopped down against the sofa, and then, there was nothing. Something stirred, he stirred. His body felt sluggish, and unresponsive. Wait, feeling? Why was he feeling anything? “No, no, nonononono-” he should be dead. The amount of pills he took along with the alcohol should have left him stone dead. Why was he still alive!? He listed his good up and slammed it down, a sharp crack sounding as his hoof connected with the wooden floor. Again, and again, and again and again he hit the floor until his hoof felt raw and his leg had no more strength. “I-it was supposed to b-b-be over.” He grabbed his tail, gently stroking it. “Why?” Tears started running down his face, pooling with the blood around his hoof. Blood? Oh, he had cracked his hoof, and a small trickle of blood leaked out onto the floor. He stared at it, unblinking, even as the tears continued to flow and his eyes started to hurt. “Hehe,” he lifted up the cracked hoof and brought it down onto the floor again, a jolt of pain coursing through his body. “Hehe,” again he raised his hoof and smashed it down onto the floor, sending drops of crimson blood everywhere. “Hahahahaha,” again, and again he repeated this, until the crack, that had been small to begin with, had now cracked through his whole hoof, splitting it in two, the blood that flowed freely had painted it completely red. It hurt, it hurt like nothing else he had ever felt. That meant that he was alive, it was undeniable proof that he was alive. Was this the price for his crimes, to not even be allowed the release of death? Was he to continue his failure of a life, his faults and shortcomings plain for all to see!?   They would be coming for him soon, they would find him and take him. Of course they would have seen the posters, it was a dead giveaway. They would find him, and they would drag him before Celestia and Luna to judge and punish. Before the princesses and the public to see. “No, that can't happen, that CAN'T HAPPEN!” They could never get him. He may have been wrong about Hardhat, but the others, they would come for sure! They may have cornered him, ridiculed him, fooled him even. But he would not go out on their terms! He would stay loyal, he would say nothing, he had never said anything! Of course Spirit would keep quiet, because Shady had decided to. “Yes, yes, not saying anything.” He mumbled quietly. He was in control of his own fate, of his own life. They had tried their games, tried to fool him, but he knew that they knew. But the last joke would be on then, for he would not fail again. The tiredness from his limbs and grogginess he had felt when he woke up vanished in an instant. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his goal already clear in his mind, the kitchen. He ran out of the bedroom, every step with his left front hoof sending jolts of pain, delicious enlightening pain, that cleared the fog from his mind, he knew what he had to do. The hallway passed by as he glided down, he had never felt so great, so free. The living room opened up and the kitchen was on his right. Without slowing down, he leaned over to shift his trajectory, but continued straight anyway. His hooves were wet with his lifeblood, and the sudden turn proved impossible, his speed carried him straight forward face first into the wall.   Something within his nose bendt, it bent too much and a snap was felt. His teeth bit down, hard, and a torrent of metallic liquid assaulted his taste buds. His eyes clamped shut and his ears pulled backwards as the momentum carried the rest of his body along to create a heap of limbs and pain. He forced his head up and his eyes focused. The kitchen, it was right before him, just a few meters, his goal was so, oh so close. He wanted to move, but his lungs burned and pulled, for there was no air within them, it was like his chest was trying to collapse on itself. He lifted his healthy front hoof up and started beating his chest, again and again, until his eyes opened wide and a rush of christ ait rushed in through his damaged nose and into his lungs. It would have to do. “I won't fail again,” blood splattered out from his mouth along with two teeth. He had bitten part of his tongue and cheek, but he paid it no mind. His legs were forced to obey him, rushing to get him up, but only three of them listened. His left back leg was twisted at a weird angle, broken, sprained, he did not care, it mattered not, he hobbled forward. What is a pony supposed to do when he is at his wits end? Well, that depends on the pony. Some accept lives harshness, and lets themselves be beat down, waiting for that chance to rise again, no matter how long it takes. Some fight to the bitter end, throwing themselves headfirst against everything that life has to offer. Some ponies are strong enough to reach out, to ask for help from friends or family, recognizing that they don't have what it takes to do it alone. And some, selected few, are warped so much, that their way of thinking goes ways a normal pony, into places they would never consider. At the end of their wits, when they see no other option, they grasp onto control for as long as possible, forcing themselves to remain in control, no matter what form that control takes, no matter how extreme. And at the end, when there is no other paths to take, only one option remains. Shady leaned against the kitchen sink, panting heavily. The blood from his mouth had, for the most part, stopped flowing, but his muzzle was stained red. His eyes wandered, taking in the contents of the kitchen before his eyes landed on what he wanted. He channeled magic into his horn, like he had done countless times before when performing levitation, but nothing happened. “Useless piece of bone,” Shady growled, before he started literally, dragging himself down the kitchen counter towards his goal. “M-maybe the villagers would accept us, maybe we are wrong?” Spirit asked, as he continued to pull himself down the counter, a lot of his weight was on his damaged hoof while his healthy front leg was pulling him forward.   “You naive simpleton, that's no longer an option.” Shady growled, so close, he could almost reach it. “But they have been so nice to us here, ever since I moved here. Yes, they were nice to a facade, a persona created to make ponies trust me. They never knew me, they knew what we wanted them to see. But maybe that was enough? What about our friends, Merry and Hardhat, they would support us! Have you forgotten!? Both of them abandoned us when things went south, if they abandoned you, they would throw me to the guards in a heartbeat.” Spirit did not know what he was talking about! No, Shady had to be carefull to make things right. It was too late to falter. He grabbed the wooden handle and pulled a long knife out of the wooden block. “Hehe, ahahahahah,” the laughter started again and Shady flipped the knife in his hoof, reversing the grip on it. “I win,” his final words before he trusted the knife up into his stomach. The pain was nothing, his body was already hurting so much, he would deny the so called justice the guards and ponies chasing him wanted. The short pain was well worth it for that. But no more pain came, his body still hurt like it had done before, no more, no less. Slowly, his head dipped and his eyes traveled down his chest and to his stomach. It bent? The knife, his favorite knife was bending like a childrens toy instead of performing its purpose. He stared, not even blinking and brought the knife back up and laid it against his foreleg. He pressed down and cut, it stung a little as it pulled his fur, but it did not cut. He flung the useless knife behind him where it clattered the floor and pulled out another longer yet thinner knife, but the same thing happened, instead of piercing through his flesh, the blade bendt against his body. “No, nonononono!” Shady screamed, continuing to draw out new knives and plunge them into his body, only to toss them into the room with increasing rage as they all continued to fail. “W-what is this madness?” It was not long before only a single knife remained. It was short, barely a hoofs length. He stared at it as his body slumped down onto the floor. “Please, please,” he held the knife tight and begged, “by any power thats listening, please.” He gripped the small handle in both his hoofs, and stabbed into his throat. It hurt, and he choked, but only from the force, the blade did not pierce his skin.     In his failure, his deepest failure, Shady could do nothing but cry. Cradling his head as his world continued to slip further from his grasp. “T-they want us to suffer,” Spirit sobbed. “The Gods, they want us to suffer more.” “I-it's not over yet,” Shady replied. “I, c-cant give in.” “P-please, just let us be!” His head was still throbbing, and focusing on his own made it worse, but for a short moment, his magic was working again. Shady pulled on the drawers with all his might, sending them rocketing out into the room. Cutlery, kitchen towels, bowls, pans, everything that had been in them clattered and fell onto the floor and him. His hooves shoved through the mess, frantically looking for something, there was no more knives, but he found something and gripped it in his healthy hoof. “The gods have not left us, they just want us to show our commitment,” with a manic laughter that would make anypony shiver with fear, Shady stabbed the fork down into his leg. And to his joy it worked, the three metal ends were stuck within his leg. But not too deep, it was just a fork and not too sharp.   “They just need to see that i'm willing to go through with it. We are no cowards Spirit, we will reach our goal, oblivion will see us arrive with pride!” He yanked out the fork and stabbed again, and again, splattering blood over the already messy floor. “We are tired Shady, this wont work…” Spirit pleaded, but Shady refused to listen. He was tired, yes, but he had come so far, he would see it through. He raised his hoof once again, and… he tried to bring it down again, but it refused to move. Why did it refuse to work? Was Spirit betraying him!? “To think that you would go this far.” No, that wasn't Spirit, that was a new voice. “I knew you were insane, but I have to give you credit for your stubbornness.” Shady turned his head to look, but a blow to the back of his neck smashed his head into the floor. “Who said that you were allowed to look?” Something grabbed onto his tail and started dragging him. He had no strength to fight anymore, his consciousness was wavering, and every part of him hurt. He just wanted one thing, he had fought so hard for it, why was he denied it at his every turn? He just wanted to die. He was so tired. “Hey, pay attention!” His head was lifted up by his mane, and his eyes flickered. Were they outside? He could see green, and he thought he felt the wind. A brown small figure was in front of him. “Oh for Arceus’ sake,” his head was dropped and it flopped against the ground. The brown thing was hunched over, doing something. “Do...I k-know you?” That's what he wanted to say, but he just coughed and spat up some more blood. “Wasting this on trash like you,” something was jammed into his nose, and by the GODS IT BURNED! Everything was burning, his eyes flew open and his vision focused. It felt like every pore in his body was screaming, like his eyeballs were being pulled from their sockets and his brain electrified. Something hard stepped down on his throat, stopping him from screaming, or breathing. The pressure lifted once his body stopped convulsing, and his entire coat felt drenched with sweat. The air had never felt that sweet. “Awake again? Good, I went to quite a lot of trouble to keep you alive.” His eyes traveled once again, and now he could see the figure before him. It was a bipedal bunny on two legs, with two huge, long airs that hung down its sides. It was kneeling next to him, staring down at him with two small, black eyes. “Nothing to say?” It stared right into his eyes. “Kill. Me. Please.” It was painful, his throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper, and it took an enormous effort to get the words out. “You don't even recognize me, do you?” Why was it talking to him. Why could it not just leave him alone. “Poor little Shady wants to die, oh, I'm sorry, you prefer Spirit these days, right?” “Please.” “Your traps were hard to get around. But, luckily you were stupid in your ways. It would have been impossible for a unicorn to get in unnoticed, or so i was told. But for a Pokémon? A psychic type and a dark type?” He stared up at his captor. “Yes, you made more than your share of enemies on your road. Finding some help was not hard.” He tried to speak, but got another kick to the stomach when he opened his mouth. “You kidnapped my friend, you cut her tails off, you shaved off her fur, you broke her will to fight.” It gripped onto his mane. “Say her name.” “We don’t k-know. I don't, he doesn't.” He begged, pleaded with the bunny. “Kill me… please.” There was a pressure building where the bunny was holding his mane, pressing him down into the dirt, before it suddenly vanished. "You don't even remember her." Those two black eyes continued to stare into him. "It would have been easy to call the guards, to reveal who you were to the villagers. But I have to say, it was much more satisfying to watch you break. The mighty Shady, powerless. Driven low. Its almost poetic. "Maybe I went a little too far with you… But no, Shady, I won't kill you.” The bunny got up and took two long steps away from him, did he know this bunny? He claimed so! But he did not, he did neither, they were sure. “You know, you got me with that flashbang of yours, blinded me good.” It reached into its long fluffy ears, and pulled out a knife. It was small, an all purpose knife for the kitchen, but to him, it looked beautiful. The bunny held it up, looking at it as the moonlight was reflecting against its blade. “No, I won't kill you.” He dropped the knife down, its blade burying itself in the ground. “Do it yourself.”    He wanted to move, he so wanted to move, but his legs were not responding, too long steps. It was so close, it was so close, his gift, his price, just out of reach. He dug his chin into the dirt, and tried to pull himself forward. He was so tired, and his body was so heavy though, he did not move. “What's the matter, Shady? I thought you wanted this.” The bunny leaned down and picked up the knife again. “Perhaps you did not want it-” “ETHAN!” Shady barely registered the voice, but the bunny snapped back, looking away from him. Behind him, there were four dark figures. Shady did not recognize them, could not see them, but out from the forest, came a Mienshao, a Zangoose, a pony and something else. “Step away from the Pony, this has gone way too far!”