//------------------------------// // *Ahem.* Gentleponies? // Story: The Tirek Who Tolerated Me // by Kotatsu Neko //------------------------------// Spy's first thought was: Pain. So much pain. His second thought was that the first thought was appallingly cliché. “Man wakes up after being knocked out, can only think about how much it hurts.” How mortifying. How trite. Not that he was any stranger to pain, far from it, but he’d hoped that after years of introducing the concept of style to a herd of barbarians - not that they'd listened - he’d earned a better class of awakening. Not only that, but the pain was… well, he’d always assumed that the phrase ‘he hurt in places he never knew he had’ was just a bad author’s attempt to appear clever, but his nervous system was definitely reporting in from unfamiliar territory. As usual, the universe was being even more stupid than he’d come to expect. He forced his eyes open, but excruciating pain immediately closed them tight. He should have expected that; the experience wouldn't have been complete without the obligatory 'icepicks in the retinas' analogy. Still, he'd noticed a few details, despite having blurred vision. The area was lit by some kind of soft blue glow, and there were rock formations nearby that suggested he was in a cave. Oh, yes, and he was also behind metal bars. Well. That about settled it. He'd rolled the dice and come up craps. He'd known this would be a possible outcome, but that had just made the whole thing even more enticing. With some difficulty - he felt oddly heavy - Spy managed to grasp the bars of his cage and pull himself up to lean against them. Reflexively, he reached for his cigarette case, but it wasn't in its customary pocket. This was unsurprising, for two reasons: first, because the case doubled as a holographic disguise projector, and that would have certainly been taken off him by his abductor; and second, because his pocket was also missing. By the feel of it, his suit jacket had been replaced with a tattered shirt of uncertain material. And by the smell of it, the shirt had never, ever been washed. "Merde," he muttered. He could really use a smoke. “Oh! So you’re finally awake!” He paused. He had been expecting to hear a female voice, but this voice was unfamiliar. Too high pitched, almost like a child’s. “Regrettably,” he said finally, and tried to open his eyes again. The pain was easing, and he could just about manage a squint. “Aw, what’s the matter? Did your little plan go astray?” He craned his head toward the speaker, but couldn't quite make the whole turn. Ye gods, his entire body felt heavy, especially from the waist down. Was he tethered to the ground somehow? "...well," he said after a moment, "you can't really blame me for trying it at least once." They could, of course. It was the one unforgivable crime. Stand up, he decided. Of all the possible actions he might take, the only one that would be easier from the ground would be to grovel for mercy. And he had no reason to assume his captor had any to spare. Spy gripped the bars and pulled himself even further up, and this worked for about two seconds, until he tried to get his legs under him. They informed him that they were currently bent beneath him, yet at the same time splayed out from his body. The resulting confusion sent him back to the floor with a yelp, striking his head against the bars as he went. The child tittered. "Oopsie! Is baby feeling dizzy on his hooves?" The oddness of 'hooves' did not, at the time, fully register with Spy, who was too busy worrying that he'd gotten a concussion. Whatever knockout drug that had been used on him was clearly powerful stuff. "If you aren't going to help me up," he growled, "you could at least give me some peace and quiet." Not a good choice, angering your captor, but he was already in for maximum abuse to begin with. He could hardly make it worse. He ran a hand over the point of impact (his balaclava was missing, too; that was disturbing), then peered down at his palm through blurred vision to check for blood. Mon dieu, it was worse than he'd thought; his palm was completely red, or at least reddish-brown. And... his forearm as well? And the back of his hand? While not, he realized, actually being wet? What the hell? Had he been soaked in blood while unconscious? And then left to dry? Whoever his captor was, they had a macabre sense of humor. The false sympathy dropped from the child's voice like a Heavy with a heart condition. "And how am I supposed to help you, even if I wanted to? Since you messed up, we're both stuck down here like always!" Spy raised himself up on his forearms and tried to physically force his body to turn toward the child. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said between grunts of effort. "But if you didn't want to be in this situation, then you shouldn't have taken the job, should you?" "What?! What job? What are you talking about?!" He paused in his efforts and managed a chuckle. "Come now. There's no need to be coy. We both know you were sent to kill me." "What?!" The tone of absolute horror was a masterful touch, he considered, but it sounded far too genuine to be real. "I have to say," Spy continued, "it's a trifle disappointing that the Administrator sub-contracted out the... well, the contract to a prepubescent serial killer, no matter how talented they may be. The old hag has always been refreshingly personal in such things. But then, I suppose Miss Pauling is overworked as it is." He paused. "I hope they didn't recruit you under an unpaid internship. Scams like that give the profession a bad name." It was several seconds before the child could produce more than a sputter of shock. "Have you lost your mind?! I would never agree to do anything like that!" "Ah, wise choice. Get the money up front, that's my advice." "I mean agree to... to..." The child seemed to have trouble with the next word. "...k... kill..." Spy sighed. "Really, this is getting tiring, and your feigned innocence is wasted on me. You could at least have the common decency to show yourself. I understand the value of concealment - believe me - but this is an execution, not an assassination. There are standards." "I'm right in front of you," the child grated through clenched teeth. Spy hesitated and raised his head, peering through still-blurred vision. Nothing new to see, really: lights, rocks, bars, and... Huh. "Behind the..." He squinted harder. "...beige sheep?" Icy silence reigned, then: "Oh. I get it. I get it. You're messing with me. You're being weird and rude and you're messing with me, and I don't have to put up with it! I'm going to sleep! Good night!" Coincidentally, the sheep lay down at this point. "Hm. Dors bien, then." It wasn't a bad idea, actually. He still ached like the devil's plaything, and whatever state he'd been in before returning to consciousness, it probably hadn't counted as sleep. He wasn't exactly in a comfortable position, lying on the ground like this, but his body wasn't reacting properly enough to get itself sorted out. It would have to do. Yes. A good rest to clear his mind, ease his body, and prepare him to get murdered in the morning. Exactly what he needed. He was woken up less than twenty minutes later. "Hey! HEY! Listen! I figured it out!" Spy groaned as all his aches rushed back. "You can kill me in my sleep, you know. I don't mind." "Stop being weird and listen." The child paused dramatically. "You aren't Tirek, are you?" "...I might be able to answer that," he said wearily, lifting his head and opening his eyes, "if I had any ideaaaaaaAAAAAAAAH!" The brief rest had had at least one benefit: it had cleared his vision. The... thing on the other side of the bars was truly grotesque. Its head was huge, its eyes were enormous, and it was looking at him. He recoiled, or at least tried to do so; the peculiar heaviness of his own body had persisted. "What... what in blue blazes is that thing?!" The giant eyes narrowed. This wasn't an improvement. And then - horror of horrors - the creature spoke, in the voice of his captor. "Well, I'm not a thing, first of all. And I'm not a sheep, either. I'm Cozy Glow!" Its expression became smug. "And I was right! You aren't Tirek, even though you look like him." "I... look like..." With dread creeping along his spine, he looked down at himself - at his mud-red skin, at his claw-tipped fingers, at the undeniably horse-shaped mass where his torso ended - and his heart began to race in horrified panic. "This... this can't be real..." he whispered. "Gosh," the abomination said, as Spy patted his body in a desperate attempt to find a zipper or seam, "and here I was thinking Tirek's spell didn't work!" It cocked its head slightly. "...though it kind of didn't? I don't think this is what he had planned." Spy suddenly froze in place, halting his examination of his new face. "Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no! This can't be happening!" "What? What is it?" "Is this... a nose ring?! Am I wearing an actual nose ring?! Cela ne peut pas être!" He slumped in place. "This is Hell. Actual, literal Hell." Cozy Glow blinked at the unfamiliar words. "Um. No? You're in Tartarus." Spy, who failed to see the distinction, ignored this. "I am in Hell, and the Demons of Style have been assigned to my torment." "Oh, golly! Don't be sad, mister! And don't you worry! I bet as soon as Tirek realizes what happened, he'll fix everything and get both of us out of here! He'll probably want his body back, anyway." Spy stared at the creature. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Not Hell, silly! I told you, we're in Tartarus! What is 'Hell', anyway? Is that where you're from?" "...some might say that," he admitted wryly, "but my current residence is called 'the American Midwest'." "No wonder you seem so confused, then. You probably don't even know what ponies are, huh? That must be why you thought I was a sheep." He was too mentally drained for further sarcasm. "I am a man of many talents," he said, "but comparative ungulate studies is not one of them. Could you please just tell me what's going on, little..." Boy? Girl? It was wearing a ribbon. "...girl?" To his mild horror, Cozy Glow spread a pair of tiny, tiny feathered wings and, in a complete mockery of aerodynamic principles, briefly took to the air. "I'd love to!" she gushed. "I used to run a whole school by myself, y'know, so I'm good at explaining things." "You're in a cage," he realized. "Why is a child in a cage?" "Oh, Tartarus is a prison," she explained offhandedly... or... offhoofedly? The shapeless mass at the end of her leg didn't look like a hoof to Spy, but again, not his field of expertise. "Anyway, where should I start...?" So she told him about Equestria and the Princesses that ruled it, and about ponies, and the magic of friendship, and how Tirek - the world-conquering magic-eating centaur - had been put in Tartarus for a thousand years. "...and then he came up with a plan," she continued. "He's pretty powerless these days, but after I made this rift to another world, he said I still have a lot of that magic stuck to me. He was going to use that magic to reopen the rift and take both of us through it!" She sighed. "But when he tried it, he just kind of fell over, and then when he woke up... well, you know the rest. So I bet that he sent his mind through the rift, but not his body. And since you're in his body, he must now be in your body!" She giggled. "It's a classic magical switcharoo. Happens all the time. So don't worry, okay? Everything will be fine once Tirek fixes everything and pulls us through to your world. And then we can all be best friends forever! Isn't that great?!" Hearing no response, Cozy Glow stopped and looked at Spy, who had been silent and expressionless during the entire explanation. "Um... are you okay? Do you... need me to repeat anything?" "No... no, I understand. I understand everything." "Really? Because honestly, now that I think about, that all seems like a lot to take in." "Of course. It's perfectly clear." He lay his head back down. "I am hallucinating." "...what?" "i was put unconscious by some sort of chemical trap. The drug they used must be affecting my mind. You, this cage, this body... they are all just figments of my imagination. I'm rather disgusted that my psyche could have concocted such a mockery of a delusion, but that's an issue for therapy later." He closed his eyes. "I'm going back to sleep, and when I wake up, either the drug will have worn off and all this nonsense will have evaporated like summer mist, or my captor will have killed me. Either way, adieu." Cozy Glow stared at him as he settled in. "You are so weird." "At least I'm real. Good night." Night fell, and the Dream Realm came alive with the slumbering fantasies of every creature in Equestria... Princess Luna shook her head, her midnight mane flowing in an ethereal breeze. "I understand how you feel, Great Elder. But your time has not yet come. You must continue to conserve your strength for now, so that when the prophecy is fulfilled and Equestria reaches its darkest hour, you will have the power to save everypony from the horrible fate that awaits them. Until then, I beg you: bide your time and stay where you are most needed." Gummy blinked, his eyelids closing out of sync with each other. She knelt before him. "Thank you. Now, I must continue my duties. Fare thee well!" Luna leapt out of the dream, then walked along the row of countless others. It was shaping up to be a quiet night; only a very few ponies were having the kind of dreams that required her intervention. Oh, there were a number of the 'I ate too much before bed and now the dessert trolley is chasing me' variety, but she tended to leave those alone in any case. Ponies needed to learn their lesson the hard way sometimes. Yes, it was a peaceful night. Perhaps she would visit the dream of Twilight Sparkle and indulge in a bit of light reading in her library. The Princess of Friendship was always kind enough to- She stopped and lifted her head, her ears swiveling. Had that been a scream just now? It had sounded strangely muted - and pained, rather than fearful - but she was sure... Another scream of agony echoed across the Dream Realm, and she quickly turned toward its source. This was dreadful! Ponies weren't supposed to feel pain in their dreams! It was bad enough when a nightmare terrified them, but if it was as bad as this...! She had to help them, no matter what! And then she found the dream, and halted in her tracks with a gasp. "Tirek?!" She walked slowly around the dream, peering at the shifting images displayed on its surface. At least, it seemed to be Tirek's dream. Each of Equestria's most powerful enemies had had their dreams quarantined, sequestered into an area distinct from those of ordinary creatures, and surrounded by defenses of Luna's own devising. If any of them managed to escape or do great harm to anypony, they wouldn't do it through the Dream Realm. Discord's dream was missing, of course. She'd long ago given up trying to control his dream in any fashion. And Chrysalis' dream was wrapped up tight in a cocoon, because the Changeling Queen refused to give Luna access to her mind. But Tirek's dreams were usually here; she checked on them occasionally, and they were always highly predictable in their subject matter. And this dream was in the right place, and it felt like Tirek's dream... but then again, somehow it didn't. Another scream rose from the dream, which was filled with chaotic scenes of fire, explosions, and so, so much blood. She had to investigate. It was a risk, because she wasn't positive he couldn't take her magic in a dream, but the magical wards in Tartarus were created to keep his abilities in check; it should be safe enough. Poised to escape if he tried anything, she leapt into the dream. Her hooves landed with a sound of shifting pebbles, and she looked around at a place like... well, 'like nothing she'd ever seen' wasn't quite right. There were stone tunnels, and buildings of metal and wood, and everywhere piles upon piles of... she dug lightly with her foot to confirm. Gravel, yes. Why so much of it? But apart from that, everything had a... an alien feel to it. These were things ponies could build, but in some indefinable way, wouldn't. The proportions were off, the buildings seemed to serve no actual purpose, and there were little details everywhere that made no sense. What was a 'capture point', and why were there so many signs pointing to them? Why did some of those tunnels just end several feet above the ground, for instance? A pony could hurt themselves. And she was alone, which was impossible. Dreams require a dreamer, after all. (From the shadows, he watched her. In the waking world, he knew his equipment had been taken from him, and this had carried over into his dream. But that was fine; he'd worked for years without the special gear given to him by his current employers. And at least he had his suit. He could improvise.) There was a sudden scream from close by, just on the other side of a small shed. She hurried over and... Nothing. Nopony was there at all. Another scream, a few yards away. She looked up sharply, and for a fraction of a second saw... something. Some kind of huge creature, like a hairless yeti, clutching at its back. And then it was gone without a trace. No. One trace: a sinister chuckle floated on the wind before fading. As she stared at the place where the creature had been, another scream sounded, and another chuckle followed. Luna narrowed her eyes and began to walk, following the screams. They seemed to come from different creatures, or at least from different voices. Was something in this dream chasing the dreamer? Or was the dreamer-? "It appears I have a visitor." The voice echoed in this place, and she couldn't pinpoint its source. "Comment ça va, mademoiselle cheval?" Luna whirled, but saw nothing. "Tirek? Is that you?" "...who else would it be?" Agitated and unnerved, Luna did not, at the time, realize this wasn't a confirmation. "You sound... strange. What is this dream you're having? I've never seen a place like this." "Ah, yes. The Gravel Pit. Not my favorite stomping ground, admittedly, but worthy enough." She shook her head. "This is odd. Your dreams have always been about conquest, not mindless violence. I heard those screams, and... where are you?" "Who knows? Perhaps I'm... right behind you!" She tensed and leapt forward, turning to see... "Or perhaps not." Another little laugh, the same as the ones before. That didn't sound like Tirek, did it? She had never made a habit of talking to the centaur, but this all seemed out of character for him. And since when did he speak Prench? Enough of this. "No more games!" she shouted with her Canterlot Royal Voice, her horn blazing with purple light. "Show yourself immediately, or I will rip this dream asunder, and then come to Tartarus to finish the job!" "Really? How rude of you. You come into my dream and threaten to break it, without even knocking first? Or introducing yourself?" "Introduce myself? Are you pretending to not recognize Princess Luna, Guardian of the Dream Realm?!" There was silence, then a long chuckle began. "Oh, that's right! The little one did mention it. 'Princess Luna of the Moon!' What a stupid name." "I beg your pardon?!" "And your sister, 'Celestia of the Sun'. Well, that's slightly less obvious, I suppose, but really my subconscious has a lot to answer for right now." "What are you...?" Anger turned to wariness, and Luna took a nervous step backwards. "You... aren't Tirek, are you?" Another laugh. "I've been getting that question a lot lately. Names are such useless things, I've always found." This was all too confusing. "Something is very wrong here," she said slowly. "I'm leaving this dream and coming to Tartarus. And then, whoever you are, we will have words." "Oh, don't leave yet," the voice jeered. "We were just getting acquainted! Come on, let's have a chat. Perhaps we could play a nice game of cards!" "I don't think so." "We could play Go Fish, or canasta..." She spread her wings. "I'm leaving now." "...Old Maid..." he added pointedly. Luna bristled and her hornlight flared. "How dare...!" "Or my personal favorite..." She heard the footstep a fraction of a second too late. Luna saw a swift movement out of the corner of her eye, then experienced a brief, intense pain before darkness took her. Standing over her prone form, Spy tossed his gravel-filled sock in the air once, catching it easily. "...blackjack." The midnight pony evaporated as he watched. He idly wondered if that meant she was dead. He'd never gotten the chance to murder a princess before, and that would look good on his resume. Though 'imaginary pony princess' would sound rather less impressive, so he'd probably leave that out. "Well," he murmured, "the moment has passed." He sat down on the edge of a platform and watched his memories of past battles flow by, laughing at the more amusing stabbings. He still fully expected to be killed when he woke up - or earlier - so he may as well take some enjoyment in watching other peoples' lives flash before his eyes.