//------------------------------// // Concrete // Story: Dreamscape of a Spoon // by Zytharros //------------------------------// A tan Earth pony decorated with black mane and tail trotted down the long stone hallway where she kept her special toys along with her ever-loyal alabaster slave. She always enjoyed a spot of torture mixed with regret along with her wine. She could never accurately remember how it started, though it may have been her grandsire Full Harmonica’s influence. He would often tell of stories his grandsire Unsung Harmonics had told him about the early days of the steamship wars, of how the Spoonship Corporation and the Harmonic Shipping Company would battle it out in boardrooms, laboratories, and within each other to gain favour across Equestria. They had been chief rivals for almost four generations. Even though Harmonic had first established the technology two generations prior, Princess Celestia back then had insisted the methods used would remain open for all to try, as a gesture of harmony. Over time, many challengers to Harmonic’s superiority would emerge. However, upstart Spoonship, though not the first to achieve considerable success, was the first that posed any real threat to her family’s corporation. They improved upon the original design so radically that their design quickly became the go-to for any further study. Harmonic had even adopted their design and begun incorporating it into their ships in an attempt to catch up. They never really could. As soon as Harmonic would improve upon the research, Spoonship would be miles ahead with the next one. Within the last two generations, and over the last two decades in particular with her sire in charge, Harmonic had been relegated to a niche company, carving out small profits in things like specialized shipping services, and the occasional drug cartel carry. Of course, their fleet suffered as a result, and three times they were unable to keep up with orders due to disrepair. This mare had personally taken care of at least two of those to keep her father safe. When they finally lost the contract to the Royal House to Spoonship twelve years ago, however, even the cartels would pass them up for other, more efficient small-time vendors like the Las Pegasus Transport Company or the Seven Colours Expedition Corporation, led by Rainbow Dash’s twin cousins. From then, insolvency was always just two months away. The tan mare was furious for Spoonship for taking away her family’s right to live like they had. It was her inheritance that she had slowly watched dissolve away under their success. She had done well as an instrumentalist – First Chair cellist at the Royal Canterlot Symphony Orchestra had paid handsomely, if her home and this cellar stocked with wine enough to swim in had been any indication, the sales of her solo recordings notwithstanding – but she still wanted to bring the company down. And it would start with her newest acquisition. She quickly glanced at another door, one plastered with several parchments which displayed a silhouette of a butter-coloured pony with a red mane and pink bow, before continuing with a slight chuckle. Tap. Tap. Tap. The unicorn stallion walking around her in a circle was tapping a baseball bat on the ground, giving the silver mare a menacing look as he did. She was helpless, however, chained to a steel peg in the middle of the room two inches above and thirteen inches penetrating the ground. She was undamaged, though her mane and tail hadn’t seen the better side of any kind of grooming in two days. “What do you want?” she asked the stallion. He didn’t reply. He just tapped the bat as he circled the silver mare. The room was cold. Comprised entirely of a large, hollow cube of concrete, the peg, a single bare bulb and an absolutely giant iron door, there was little comfort to be had. She noted she sat at the centre of a series of disorganized crates and barrels, most labelled with miscellaneous wine logos, but all bearing the word “malbec” somewhere. Whoever owned this room had an affinity for malbec wine that surpassed Fluttershy’s passion for animals almost to the point of obsession. The silver mare shifted uncomfortably and looked back towards her rear. She was shackled to the pin by her gaskins, the upper part of her hind leg. Part of the discomfort came from the clamps she had on. They chafed badly against her hocks. The other part was that she had actually had somepony so close to her hindquarters to put the clasp on. Magic or not, she was a lady, and as such she did not want anyone back there without her permission. Three quick clacks were heard. The one with the baseball bat turned to the door. He approached one of the large loops in the middle and, taking the handle in his magic, he opened the smaller door on the wall with a grunt. In stepped a tan Earth pony with black hair and a white collar with a small pink bow-tie, followed by a forlorn white unicorn with a spiked dog collar around her throat and a mud-caked long purple mane that looked like it had fallen flat years ago, and had last been styled at the turn of the previous century. “Miss Spoon,” the tan mare said flatly, glaring at her with one of the most frighteningly intimidating stares one could muster. Silver Spoon was no stranger to delivering her version, however, and retaliated in kind. “Miss Captor.” “Wine,” the treble clef-flanked Earth pony ordered of her traveling companion. The glass was levitated to her so she could take a sip. Her attention returned to her captor as she smiled. The wine floated away. “You may call me Octavia Philharmonica. Would you like a glass?” “I… don’t drink on this day of the week,” Silver Spoon sneered back. “What do you want of me?” Octavia frowned, disappointed. “I was so certain you would be thirsty after your long time without any water…” Come to think of it Silver was quite thirsty. She knew, however, that alcohol wasn’t what she needed. She needed water, and badly. Her throat was parched, on the verge of impeding her speech. Her captor shuddered. “My employer wouldn’t like to see you die, though… at least, not yet. Battrap!” The guard with the baseball bat trotted over. He had a matching cutie mark on his flanks. “Go get our little silver filly here some water,” she cooed, touching Silver on the chin. The gray mare immediately flinched away. “She’s looking a little parched.” Octavia gave Silver a peck on the cheek. Silver blushed, glaring daggers at her captor. Ladies should not be acting like that, unless she was… “Don’t fool yourself, dear,” Octavia continued darkly, immediately sensing her victim’s conflicted mood. “I have no interest in… those kinds of affairs. Only those of your father are of interest to me. In fact…” she walked over to somewhere behind Silver Spoon. A slow, sad D-sharp note drew its way across a cello as Octavia began lovingly playing her favourite instrument. “In fact, I’d like some information from you.” Silver Spoon tried looking back at her and struggled to leave the chains. However, Rarity choked back a tear and restrained the gray mare even further with magic. Silver glared at her, but Rarity, tears in her eyes, mouthed an “I’m sorry…” The gray mare, finally seeing her enslaved misery in full, recognized that she could have an ally in any escape plans she hatched almost instantly. This pony in front of her was exhausted, and wanted out. She mouthed back, “Let’s talk later” and winked, then replied to Octavia, “What would you like?” Hopefully she could stay in her captors’ good books until she got herself and this filthy alabaster mare out of wherever this was. The note stopped. “Oh, just where his fortune’s stored, the secret to his machines, the contract with the Royal Sisters…” the cellist mumbled. “You know, the usual.” Suddenly, a hard hoof-punch was felt on the back of her head. Her neck snapped forward. A mild case of whiplash reared itself as the strapped mare returned her head to its upright position. She winced at the strain. “I aim to get it in any way I can,” Miss Philharmonica said, “and I will not be denied by some two-bit plans of escape. Rarity!” The unicorn turned her attention to her master and growled intensely. “I am not a dog to…” THWACK! With a single strike of a baseball bat, Rarity collapsed to the ground, unconscious. “Next time, come, and don’t speak,” Octavia demanded, irritated. “You know Battrap hates dissenters!” The stallion saluted the tan mare. Silver swallowed nervously as her bat-tapping room compatriot eyed her once again, this time with a cocky, creepy smile. Octavia noted her discomfort and chuckled again. “Be glad he is only walking around you, tapping his bat,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “I could let him do… more… to you.” She winked. “But… I do not think your father would be terribly happy with me. Neither would mine for that matter. Force my hand, however…” At her signal, the unicorn stallion slowly lifted the bat and wrapped its tip sensually with his tongue. He spent a couple minutes in uncomfortable lip-lock with his beloved bat before suddenly swinging it down upon Silver Spoon with a loud grunt. The mare yelped and with astonishing speed leapt out of the way, stretching her shackles to their outermost limit and testing the depths of the pin she was strapped to with the pounce. The hickory stick barely missed her, succumbed to the cement, created a loud, echoing crack, and splintered into a thousand pieces. A few shards caressed Silver Spoon’s flesh, creating minor nicks and a couple shallow slivers. One grazed her face. A large shard bruised her flank. As the pieces of the once-whole weapon settled on the cold stone floor, Octavia cruelly smiled at the cowering form of the quivering silver mare before her. She leaned into the quavering being and chuckled. “You get the idea, Miss Silver,” she cooed viciously. “I hope you keep that swing in your mind for a very, very long time.” Octavia left the room with a chuckle after that. Battrap loaded Rarity onto his back and joined his mistress as they exited. Just as the doors creaked to close, Octavia stuck her head in again. “Oh, Silver, dearie…” she said. A murky bowl of water slid towards the shackled pony, along with a half-eaten, rotten apple floating inside. “A gift from the Apple family’s youngest,” she crowed. “Battrap’s off to see her now.” With a flourish and a laugh, Octavia exited stage door. The loud clattering of the internal structure told Silver they had left. She took a deep breath, flinching again as the events of the previous hour or so hit her. The lick… the cocky smile… the swing… the shattering… She had almost been struck. Her! Silver Spoon! Almost struck! By a baseball bat, of all things! She shivered for the better part of the next fifteen minutes, releasing in no small measure tears of fear. She finally understood those who had said they saw their entire life flash before her eyes, but for her, it had been just one pony. A single stallion. Just one stallion had passed over her vision. Her loyal Captain, Big Macintosh. Why had her thoughts drifted only to him in her time of need? She had never viewed him as anything more than a simple ship’s captain and a friend to whom she had grown to be able to bring her troubles to whenever she wanted. Yet, she couldn’t stop her mind’s eye from bringing him up. Intermediately, she reached for the bowl. Her tears slowly dried as she brought the water to herself and began drinking the foul substance. She made a sour face, expressing her displeasure at the status of her offered beverage, but offered no further objection as the embittered liquid satiated the desert that was her mouth and throat. Her thoughts continued. She recalled their first meeting, a rather haphazard one at that. It had been after she had first attempted to help on the farm alongside Applejack, her only friend at the time. Her sheltered upbringing rarely afforded her the opportunity to make acquaintances. At times, she had almost felt it would have been better to be born around the same time as the palomino’s kid sister Apple Bloom, as if she should have been born with them, rather than in the same year as Applejack or somethi- She quickly shook her head to return her scattered mind to her original path of thought as she took a half-hearted, pretentious bite of the foodstuff. Her face briefly registered complete disgust. Under normal circumstances, this apple on look alone would have wound up in the trash. Even though it was clearly the worst she had ever tasted, her hunger overtook her other senses and she forcefully choked down the rest as she distracted herself with further memories. Silver Spoon found herself apple-bucking with young Applejack one day, shortly after her return from Manehattan, and quite literally wound up bucking her brother in the face, mistaking him for an apple tree. Startled, both of them flinched back. When their eyes connected, when his pale grays connected with her violets, something was born between them, a loyalty that ran deeper than the roots of the trees they bucked. It wasn’t love. No, they were still too naïve at the time to grasp the full concept, but it was certainly something different, something they had not experienced before. From that day, Big Macintosh and Silver Spoon would spend a lot of time together, which eventually led to the stallion leaving the farm and joining up with the crew and all the subsequent events. At first, Applejack was a little jealous, but eventually she accepted this change and in fact not only encouraged it but assisted in its growth when she could. Even when Big Mac left and it meant getting more help on the farm, after a week of blowing all her energy to try to care for it herself, of course, she was surprisingly supportive whenever they were in town. Of course, both would return to help when they could, and Applejack would always have an open ear for their adventures, and theirs open for hers, since she had become the Element of Honesty three years ago. Had it become more than that, though? Could she really bring… that… to his mind? Could she ask him if he…? Maybe… just maybe… A newfound foal of hope emerged. She looked up at the lone light bulb on the roof and prayed wih all her heart… Captain Macintosh, please… Please find me…