//------------------------------// // Amazing Fantasy // Story: Refined Starlight in a Broken Vessel // by the-pieman //------------------------------// Soon it’s nearing nighttime and I figure it’s best if I turn in for the day. All the way back to the library, my mind kept retracing Myrna snapping at me earlier. Especially the part where I just... shut down. It’s unusual, being so... I can’t find the word. Unaggressive. Not that she’s wrong in any way, and it’s not worth getting angry over not being the center of attention, but for a long time now I’ve been so mad about everything. Anything got me upset and I’d just... boil over. It’s a bit worrying, really. When did that even start? Why am I suddenly not anymore? Why did I back off and apologize? I trudge my way into my room and fall onto the bed backfirst. I feel so confused. Why now am I so... submissive? I mean, I was before but lately I’d explode over the smallest, inconsequential thing, and now I just can’t. I can’t get angry... Why do I care? What’s wrong with me? My hate is gone... isn’t that good? Why does it feel bad? How can I change just like that? Suddenly become different for no reason... it scares me... what else is different? It’s just so difficult to figure out. When did I change? What all is different now? For better or worse? Why can’t things go back to normal? I just... I want to be me! Why is it so damned hard to figure out what that means!? I used to know... I used to have a clear mental picture of who I was... It’s so hard to wrap my head around all of it right now, when I’m so tired. Sleep is so inconvenient when it’s a necessity and not a choice... wish I knew why my core is still buggy. Gladius said the constellations saw me “dim” whatever that means. I’ll make that... tomorrow’s problem too. I find myself staring into a mirror at myself... but not quite. Me from before all of this. He looks younger and less weary. Eyes are bright, even as the troubles he’s faced show in them. It’s only been a couple fistfuls of months and yet it’s like he’s been gone for decades. He doesn’t look worried or frightened, he’s okay. Okay with himself and what’s happened even as he remembers all that he’s been through. How is he okay and I’m not!? I want that! I want to be okay! Something rises in me, something strong and negative that I don’t have the words to describe as anything other than “not anger”. I slam a fist into the mirror and it spiderwebs into hundreds of segments, my fist becoming bloody and cut. Wincing through the dripping pain in my hand, I look again and he’s gone. I don’t see my reflection anymore, though in each shard a different face. They’re people I knew.  Friends, family and supporters. Staring at me through an impassable barrier, never to touch me again, even as I mash my damaged fingers into the glass, deepening my cuts and sending more pain arcing up my nerves. With each slam and desperate grab, a new depth of pain is met with a face disappearing. I can’t stop, and it continues until I can’t feel my hand anymore and there’s nobody left. I don’t have anybody left. They’re all gone, and no amount of reaching out can pull them back to me. All I’m left with is myself, my anger, and my pain. And then, in one final punch to the sheet of damaged familiarity, the anger evaporates. I can’t scream anymore, I have nothing to blame and nothing to yell at.  I’m left staring into the endless dark gray by my lonesome, accompanied only by a pain that reminds me of everything I’ve lost forever... A sound, a bit unlike heels on concrete, meets my ears. Of course, I’ve gotten to know that sound annoyingly well over the last however-long as the typical ‘hooves on surface’ noise. I look around and see Luna. Why is she... I’m dreaming... in hindsight, that’s obvious. ...I shouldn’t worry her, it’s not something she needs to be bothered with. These are my problems, nobody else needs to deal with them. I stand up and try to think of something to fill the strange void with but... eh, what I have already works, I guess. “Hey.” “Hello Anthony; tell me, what troubles you this night?” she asked, straight to the point as always, as she continued to stride towards me. “Oh, not much.” As if she can’t tell that’s a lie. “Not... not that big a deal.” She stared at me for a moment, and I swear her eyebrow was preparing to achieve escape velocity. The silence stretched, and even I’m starting to get uncomfortable. “So, uh... what brings you around? I don’t sleep much anyways, figured I’d be off the radar.” “Your dreamscape was a nightmare; I came to relieve it, but it was already beginning to fade by the time I had arrived.” she sighed, and I saw the black peytral and crown/tiara thingy she usually wears simply evaporate. “Please, Anthony, speak to me of what was troubling you.” she asked - and that was, honestly, a bit of a shock. Her tone is genuinely one of ‘asking’ not one of ‘demanding’ like her sister’s. I sigh, and try to think of how to explain it. “Well, pretty much the same thing that worries me in general. I guess I’m just having nightmares about it because I... actually sleep now.” “Precisely why you showed up ‘on the radar’. It is rare that you sleep, let alone dream, so I had already planned on seeing how you were doing with your star core dimming. I assume this is... not related to your nightmare.” “Not... entirely. Kinda. No... hard to explain.” I try to think of a way to put it. “It sort of has to do with my core, but in general, not because it’s wigging out. I suppose it’s more like I have trouble with being... here. In Equestria, I mean. The core is just sort of a side-effect of that for some reason.” “Well, tell me what you do know - even if you do not understand the terminology, I may be able to help to some degree.” she says, laying down next to me; I’ll admit, ponies are very comfy to lean against as furniture. I decide to give us a bit more of a relaxing scenery. By giving us... scenery. Considering what could work, I settle on something that would fit her. I pick a short grassy hill, at night, with stars and stuff. Mostly satisfied with my obviously-fake landscape, I lay my head back fully, resting it on her. “I mean, I sort of know what my overarching problem is, it’s just... I don’t wanna worry anyone with it. It’s not their problem, you know? I get that you help folks out with their personal issues, it’s literally your job but... we’ve established that I’m... I have more esoteric concerns.” “That is true, but that does not make your troubles any less worth addressing, nor does it mean that there is no chance of me being able to help. At the very least, I can be here for you to articulate it to yourself, so that you may perhaps give yourself understanding. One might be surprised by how often the wisest advice is what we give ourselves.” she said the last part before chuckling. “Twilight gave us- gave me a book of quotes that I have very much enjoyed.” she admits. “Yeah... I mean, I guess the biggest problem is that I don’t understand it. If I did, it’d be less of an issue. Question being... why am I here? What good reason is there for me to be where I am?” Luna thought for a moment. “While I do not believe that is the biggest trouble your mind bears, I can at least state that whatever took you from your home and placed you into ours most likely sought to save you from what that lovely snake-woman has described befell your home.” I snap back “Really!? Oh, great! That makes it so much better!” She balks a bit and I pause, figuring I should explain before I explode fully. At this point, eye contact is pretty much impossible. “You ever hear of survivor’s guilt? Something like that. Likely, I’d have been dead, sure. But is that really the worst outcome? I feel like I got the raw deal by not... not...” “... by not perishing with those that you cared for?” Luna suggests, and I have to nod. I take a deep breath and try to explain it as best I can. "Before I woke up here with this... thing lodged in my chest, I had a life. Sure it sucked a lot, but it was still my life and there were people who cared about me. People I cared about. Now... now I wake up here and I can never have it back, no matter what I do. All that’s left for me is this world where I'm totally out of place, surrounded by people who aren't even people people and it's just not worth it." “The loss of those you care about is never something to take lightly, Anthony,” Luna begins, turning to supposedly make an attempt at meeting my eyes; it’s strange, but the whole world seems wobbly like I’ve got water in my eye, but... “and it would be unreasonable to demand you simply turn your back on what you no longer have. But, perhaps, consider that you have gained something as well?” she offers, and I notice she seems a bit bigger than before, about the same size as Celestia normally is compared to me, likely able to meet me eye to eye if we were both standing straight and facing one another. "You know what it's like to have 'gifts' like this? Powers that don't do anything but hurt others and push them away?" I say, looking down at the ground. “This star core doesn’t do anything helpful, not really. All I do is use it to hurt the ‘bad’ guys and I’m a hero. That doesn’t make it anything actually beneficial. Just makes me a weapon. A weapon I barely know much about. You know how scary that-” I pause. “No, of course you know what that’s like... But it’s new to me! And I fail to see how it’s a good thing to have. It’s like the last nail in the coffin here. Not only am I dropped here to ‘just deal with it’ but I have this thing inside me that turned me into... someone who’s better at hurting others than normal folk.” I spark up in frustration, as if my star core was fully functional. I don’t look human except in shape. I’m just this semi-transparent, glowing silhouette with clothes on. Luna nods. “Yes, it is often difficult to awaken and find yourself changed, no longer yourself but an idol, something to be looked at in awe, not a po- not a person to be understood.” I see a single tear fall from her eye, which she quickly rubs away. “We are most aware of the pain of suddenly knowing you will never bear friends that shall follow you through the ages, and the torment of having everything and everyone you know suddenly vanish from your grasp, without warning and without any chance to understand.” I sigh. “I’d rather I died back there, really. I wouldn’t have to deal with all this. I used to contemplate suicide before, even made a few attempts... but I didn’t because I had things to lose. Those things are gone now... so why the hell not?” I look up at the ocean of stars in my dreamscape-sky. "There are so many small lights in the sky, flickering and glimmering. With hundreds of thousands of them up there, who would care or even notice if one light just... goes out." I return my gaze to the ground and power down, the fading glow leaving my body and the grass around me shrouded in darkness. It seems Luna picked up on the symbolism, as I feel a feathery veil wrap around me gently. "I would." The response is a whisper, but the winged hug is so very warm and comforting in a way that makes me shudder. “I watch every night and count every star lost to time, every life that burns out in the darkness, and while I cannot stop every hope from being snuffed by the cruelties of life... I will not look away, and I will not forget them merely because they are small and one of many.” I sit in silence for a bit, trying to... I don’t really know. Process, maybe. “It just... it feels like there’s no point to any of it. Like... why me? Why not anyone else? Out of several billion human beings, I got picked as the one to dodge the disaster before it even started. What makes me so damned special? I’m just a guy... I was fine with being just a guy... It confuses me why I got scooped up and dropped here, given this ‘incredible gift’ and left to cope, never being told why.” I sigh. “I mean, whatever happened to cause my relocation was probably random. No reason or specific choice, just... it just happened. I mean... if there was a reason... then that would imply there’s a reason for everything and-” I pause. “Let’s just say that I have to believe that there’s no such thing as destiny or fate.” “Destiny is very much real, Anthony,” Luna begins, “But it is not something which is unbreakable; it is only a channel, and even water may spill from a channel without trying.” I look towards Luna, and grit my teeth a bit. “There is no destiny. Period. There can’t be. That’s all there is. It’s bullshit, and I have a very good counter-argument if one suggests otherwise. But I doubt you’d like to hear it.” “I have doubts you could sway my mind; I have gazed upon the Weave itself, if only once. But as I said, it is not something that cannot be deviated from, and chance will push people from their destiny as often as choice will.” I sigh yet again, but decide to give her what she mostly asked for. “If destiny is real, then I have to ask why. Why everything. What was the reason for all that’s happened? What great design is there that requires me to want to kill myself, and just keep making it worse? I doubt you have an answer, and maybe that’s because there isn’t one. Pretty much my entire life would have to be water jumping out of your metaphorical channel just to excuse destiny existing.” “Anthony, destiny has nothing to do with your choices, nor anything to do with your desires-” I’m about to metaphorically bite her head off for even suggesting that my tragedies were events I chose but... She doesn’t understand, and it’s not her fault that she’s confused and backwards. “Let’s stop here before we get into something entirely unrelated, alright? I’d rather not... snap, okay? Let’s agree to disagree, please.” She sighs, but nods. “As you wish, Anthony.” “I know, you have your beliefs and I have mine... I just don’t see what the purpose of me having a star core is either. Myrna came by without one, demons have come through without them... why did I get this... great power or whatever? You all make a huge deal out of it but personally, I hate it.” I frown. “I mean... yeah, I get it. Why would I not want something that likely hundreds have wanted for years, tried to unravel the secrets of, etcetera etcetera... it just seems so pointless to me. If anything was supposed to make this easier... I’d rather have something I wanted. Out of every sort of crazy power I imagined potentially having, this literally never occurred to me.” Luna pauses at this. “You have imagined other powers before?” she asks. “...I mean, yeah. Pretty much everyone did it, especially when we were kids. I guess you wouldn’t have spent quite as much time thinking about what a ‘more powerful, better you’ would look like when you’re already some kind of immortal god-figure. But us mortals, at least on Earth, everyone wondered what we could be. What sort of special power we may have or get in the future.” I grin a bit. “I spent so much of my childhood reading comics, playing games, and just imagining what life would be like if I were... superior. Powerful. How would I get my powers? What could I fix with them? How would they work? Would I need to hide them and how?” I look up at the fake night sky. “Granted, other children didn’t think that far into details like I did... but it was something I thought about all the time, most of my childhood was just imagining... more. Being more. But out of all the ones I thought through and ‘planned for’, having an actual star inside me never even occurred to me once. So I just... show up here with one of the few powers I never even considered in all my years. One of the few options that I never anticipated, the one that would confuse me so much. Make me struggle to understand why I have it or what to do with it... beyond just being everyone’s ‘hero’ by turning the ones they dislike into various giblets.” I let out a breath. I don’t need to breathe to talk due to dream physics but I still felt a bit winded. “Well, perhaps it would be best then to spend some time with some of your new brethren; should you ever desire it, I can guide you to the realm of the night to meet them directly.” she offers, smiling to me. I shrug. “I mean, I’ve met four. One just sat around scaring the crap out of me with that mystical bullshit, another is like an iceberg, a third is a total asshole with a libido set to ‘That lamppost looks sexy’ at all times... Libra’s the only one I met who seemed decent.” “Ah, you have met the constellations. They are... different than the stars that compose them.” Luna said, which makes no sense at all at first. “Each constellation is a composite of all stars who have been part of them since the beginning, but the stars themselves may yet stand out from the others in the same constellation; as well, many of the stars do not reside in such a conglomerate.” “See... I know what all those words mean and I can follow your explanation, but I still have no real idea what that means. I just... I guess I feel cheated that having random powers bestowed upon me never worked like the comics. ‘Just a normal, everyday person, until suddenly they get amazing powers beyond that of their everyman fellows!’ sounds so much better on paper and ink.” I hang my head a bit. “But I guess that’s my fault, for assuming something would happen the way I planned. Stupid assumption to make, given the track record.” “Hmm... you speak of comics, and then of ink; I take it you do not speak of those who perform comedic acts upon the stage?” Luna asks. “No, comedians are different. A comic book is... well, they’re called that because originally they were drawn stories meant to be funny. But the style became a medium all its own and it started being used to portray all kinds of stories. Horror, adventure, science fantasy... like books but with pictures. You didn’t just read what someone said, you got to see the expression on their faces and what they were doing. It’s like... theater, but each moment is frozen for you to follow along with by reading, instead of just watching.” “That sounds... fascinating! Please, tell me more.” Luna says, looking for a moment like a small child or a puppy trying to show how eager they are. “Well, I mainly stuck to the super-hero genre, as a lot of kids did. You guys have comic books, but some of the stories and such are a bit different from what I’m used to since... well, differences between humans and ponies. Super heroes were... they were heroes who were super. They could do things that others couldn't. They were like normal, everyday people but they had some special abilities or such that made them incredible, amazing, and... every kid wanted to be that. Comics got really popular because of that and it became a sort of outlet for fantasy and imagination. There were still comics for stuff like noir, and horror, and other things... but the ones that sold the best were the ones with super-heroes.” I lean back a bit and look into the night sky again. “It was nice, being able to escape into other worlds, where the impossible was possible for those lucky enough to have these gifts. Comics also introduced concepts like magic to a wider public, which is why I know what magic is -for the most part- even though humans don’t have it. It’s all fiction. I... I miss that, you know? Being able to ignore everything and just watch and read as someone else has their own adventures, removed from the problems I had to deal with. It was escapism, but... it was nice. With all the different kinds of books published following different characters, I discovered so many different kinds of powers and abilities, things that, while all fiction, was so wonderful to imagine what it’d be like if it could happen, to yourself even. It was... freedom. Freedom you could buy in a store for a couple dollars, printed onto paper.” “Well, perhaps you could show me some of these comics? If you concentrate, you can show these images as best you can remember.” she asks, seeming to be rather interested. “I could, I suppose.” I think. “But... what if I did something a bit more personal?” Luna quirks her head. “Personal? Such as?” The reminiscing and idea spur on a spontaneous good mood and I stand up, looking into the dreamscape. “We’ll need a change of scenery first.” I focus on the world I want. Paved, busy roads that weave around a large city. A constant buzz of noise from everything around. Smells of all varieties from nearly every angle that finding a source for one in particular would be practically impossible. A big, wide-open sky touched by hundreds of tall buildings, and us standing on the flattened roof of one of them. I look out at my created world, standing amidst an expanse of steel, brick and concrete, connected to the ground far below. It... is good. I turn to Luna who looks around. “This looks fairly similar to Manehattan, the few times I’ve been there. But never from so high up... what are you wearing?” “It’s my costume!” I announce proudly as I show off the multicolored outfit, formed from my nerdiest of memories.“I figured I’d give you an in-person demonstration.” She looks a bit interested, if apprehensive. “And these heroes wear that?” “Only one of them wears this. Everyone’s got their own outfit. This is the costume from one of my absolute favorites. Always liked him. Oh, whoops, almost forgot!” I pull on the mask, finishing the ensemble. Luna peers at it quizzically. “You look... striking...” I grin, not that she can see it from behind the full-face covering. “Let’s get this show on the road!” I run at the edge of the roof at full tilt. “Wait, you’ll fall!” Luna yells after me as I leap off the edge. “Spider-Man doesn’t fall that easily!” I reply as I flip around in midair and launch an adhesive tether to another building, the line flying from my wrist-mounted web shooters with a very satisfying *thwip*. Grabbing hold of the web, I let gravity pull me down and the momentum swings me back up. I let go and knife through the sky feet-first. Holy shit this feels great! “Whooooo!” Luna looks at the display with immense intrigue and she takes after me into the air with her large wings, hovering by the rooftop I landed on. “That is... incredible!” I chuckle. “Nah, incredible is the other guy. Keep your eyes peeled, Lulu. This is gonna be amazing!” I punctuate by backflipping off my current rooftop and webbing a third building, and begin swinging around another skyscraper, and launching a line to its spire, spin my way down it. I grab onto a flagpole hanging off of it and swing myself around, letting go at just the right moment to propel me back through the air. The almost rhythmic timing of pressing on the web shooter buttons add an extra depth to the experience. This feels so... so good. Flips, dives, twists, somersaults, swinging, zipping, and slingshotting myself around this city like it’s a giant playground, that thwip sound making me feel a little bit happier every time I hear it. The wind rushing by me, coupled with the shifting momentum and gravity is... almost intoxicating. It feels good! No better way to describe it, really. I send out a few weblines out to buildings on either side of me and slingshot myself up with a huge rush of both the wind and my senses. I’m pretty grateful that dream-logic allows me to suppress my acrophobia entirely. Luna is following along, watching my performance. “That seems... unnecessarily complicated and dangerous. If you could have any power or ability, why not simply summon your own wings and fly?” I can’t help but laugh out loud as I keep swinging around. “No way! Flying around is way too easy, it’d just be boring! Birdhorses can keep their feathered crutches, I’d rather be spectacular!” I twist around and fire off more webs, and keep flinging myself around the big city skylines. Luna keeps up until I make a sudden dive or such, gravity and momentum allowing for much sharper mobility than her flapping and gliding allows for. “How would one even get powers like this, though?” Luna asks. “They are so... eccentric.” I only somewhat respond, rather singing a bit to myself in reply. “Spider blood, spider blood, radioactive spider blood~...” “Spider’s... blood? Radio... what?” Luna tries to parse my ‘explanation’ and she’s rather cute when she’s confused. I shrug in midair before catching myself and zipping back up to where she is. I decide to stop messing with her and just enjoy this experience, not that it’s difficult to enjoy, I feel so... free. I don’t need to worry about anything, I can leave everything behind and just swing. I do need to pay attention to where I’m putting my web and how fast I’m going in which direction of course, but it doesn’t take much. I can just keep moving and everything else just goes with it. I don’t need to focus very hard on what I’m doing, I can simply bask in the sensation of the flowmotion. If it ever gets too much to keep twirling around I can even slow down and just swing regularly, which has its own rhythm. Shoot, pull, release. Shoot, pull, release. Even the easy stuff just feels so... zen. Everything is... fine. Nothing to stress over up here. I’m okay. “You are certainly enjoying yourself.” Luna says, as she tries to keep up with my rather sporadic rate of motion. “It’s very nice to see you happy. You deserve to be. Joy shouldn’t be reserved solely for your imagination.” I can’t think of how to respond to that, really. “Uh... thanks, Luna.” “If this is the sort of experience comics can give you, I’m rather interested in seeing how it can benefit others. I must look into them at another time.” “Well, this isn’t all there is to it. Heroes do more than just relax and enjoy themselves. They have a lot of other things they do.” Luna nods. “I understand, but what do you mean by that, precisely?” Right on cue, I can hear a bit of trouble brewing a ways below us. Looks like someone is being cornered by a gang of muggers. “Just like a pair of yellow text boxes once taught me. With great power, there must also come great responsibility!” “That is... quite profound.” Luna muses in response. “Yep, and it’s time to be ‘responsible’ all over those jerks!” I say as I swing lower, aiming myself down towards the ruckus in the alley. I grab onto the side of the building and crawl down it, slinking quietly towards the noise. The crew of outlaws haven’t seen me yet so I need a good entrance. I fire a round of large webshots at one of them, and soon he’s bundled up, covered head to toe in the synthetic webbing. “Sheesh, if you’re my net income, I gotta rethink my career.” I say as everyone in the alley looks my way in shock. The thugs wig out at my dramatic entrance. “Holy shit, man!” “Who is this weirdo?” “It’s... it’s...” “That’s right!” I reply, striking a pose and dropping down between them and the poor man being mugged. “I’m Batman!” “...What?” One of them questions my joke, and I trip him up by shooting a web at his shoe and yanking it back, landing him on his back. “This freak is fast!” one exclaims dumbly as he pulls a gun. “Indeed I am, Mr. Observant!” I laugh as I jump and flip over his head, dodging his bullet and kicking him from behind as I land, shoving him face-first onto the ground. “I’m quick as a whip with the quips and the thwips!” “Who the hell is this whackjob!?” the guy on the ground yells as he goes to aim his gun at me again, but I can sense him pulling the trigger and immediately know the direction to dodge in. The bullet misses by a mile yet again and this time I make an effort to disarm him, and I gunk up his hand around the gun. “Just a heads-up, pal; I suggest not touching yourself with that hand for the next hour.” “Shut up, already!” he yells indignantly, though a note of fear is evident in his eyes. “But that’s half my charm!” I call back. “Without my charm I’m just a poor little boy in a flashy outfit!” I feel someone behind me and I turn around, grabbing the large metal trash can that a third mugger was about to hit me with. I easily grab it mid-toss with one hand. “Oh yeah, I also have the proportional strength of a spider, and the ability to stick my feet to any surface for instant leverage.” I drop the metal trash can in front of the poor man they were trying to assault, to make sure he’s got some cover from any further missed gunshots. I continue ‘dancing’ around the poor street thugs, tossing out kicks and punches and webs as I dodge everything the aggressors throw at me, literally and figuratively. One guy rushes me with a baseball bat, and I move out of the way to purposefully making him miss by mere centimeters with each swing. “Hey, that was seven! It’s three strikes and you’re out!” I rip the bat from his hands and web it to one of the alley walls a couple yards above us. “Hit the benches, cheater!” I deliver a mighty swing that knocks him a ways back almost out of the alley entirely. “Or the outfield, whichever works.” After a while, I run out of jokes to make so I decide to just clean their clocks. It doesn’t take more than four minutes after that for me to have all of the muggers either stuck to a wall, unconscious on the ground, or scared away from the fight. The guy who was being attacked slinks out from cowering in the corner, likely trying to stay out of the fight as much as possible. “Wow... that was incredible!” “Do I look green and angry to you?” I quip back, but help the guy onto his feet proper. “But you’re welcome. It’s all part of the job.” The one I don’t get paid for, at least. “Who are you?” the grateful man asks, to which I cock my head. “Uh, I’m Spider-Man.” I point at the black spider image on the chest of my costume. I’m about to zip off into the sky again when he continues. “Well, yeah...” the man says. “But I mean... who is Spider-Man, really?” I think for a minute, and then shrug. I launch a web into the air above me and begin swinging off, calling out behind me. “Ben Reilly!”