The room is small and dim, its only source of faint light being a little glowing square by the only interior door in the left wall just above the floor. It could easily be mistaken for any common low-cost apartment in Manehattan were it not for tiny details a careful observer might attribute to, let’s say, if not a prison cell then definitely to a secured location.
The obvious one would be the bars on the windows, although that’s definitely not an uncommon sight in a big city. Gone are the days where bars belonged only on the bottom floor windows to discourage any earth pony hooligans. Today, a good pegasus burglar is something of which one should always be wary, although breaking into this building is a feat which anypony sufficiently determined would regret immediately, and not only for the fact that there is next to nothing to steal.
That smoothly brings us to the next clue to the nature of this place, which is the lack of any sharp objects in the room, or a small suite if one counts the previously mentioned door by the night light cracked open into the simplest bathroom fitted only with a shower stall, a sink, and a toilet. Security rails are fitted to the walls around so that anyone accidentally slipping despite the non-slip covers on the floor could steady themselves in nearly any position. In short, the whole place looks as if it was set up for somepony who might accidentally hurt themself in any normal environment.
Simply put, the overall feel of the tiny suite is that of a place from which one isn’t supposed to get out but also where one shouldn’t be in any danger. A simple yet somewhat comfortable cell, perhaps.
The main room doesn’t contain much - one bed, one table, two padlocked wardrobes, and an earth pony sleeping on his back and busy drooling on the fluffy pillow under his head and occasionally kicking his legs.
With a sudden “Eeeeh!”, the sole occupant of the suite opens his eyes and sits up in a somewhat erratic, jumpy fashion. He looks around, blinking away the bad dream he already can’t recall. For a second, his eyes stop on the locked wardrobes.
***
“That’s where they store the previous occupants! The ones who tried to escape but didn’t make it. Why do you think the wardrobes are so big?”
“Eeeeh?”
“For blankets and pillows? Silly, silly, Tight Spot. You wear only the official gown, you have only one pillow, one blanket, and one bed sheet. Do you really believe they need TWO giant wardrobes to store those?”
“Eeeeh...”
“Have you never heard the tapping at night? They’re trying to get out, the failed experiments from the basement, and they are… hungry. In fact, you might be grateful that the padlocks are so strong and heavy.”
“Eeeeh!”
“And you believe them? Too many drugs, too many ‘treatments’. How much do you even remember? But maybe that’s good, maybe if you’re docile and passive you won’t end up locked in there as well, never to see sunlight again, quietly weeping at night. If you ever wake up after they pump you full of drugs in the evening, just hold your breath and listen.”
***
The earth pony only sits there for several breaths, ears pressed against the sides of his head. Can he really hear the faintest, high-pitched buzz or is it his imagination? Despite his detailed scrutiny, from the safety of the bed and the protection of the blanket of course, nothing moves and the noise soon fades away, if it was ever there at all.
The earth pony’s ears gradually straighten up and chills stop running down his spine as his eyes get used to the dim surroundings of his suite lit only by the blue shimmer of the night light by the bathroom door. As his breathing calms down, a more pressing matter presents itself in the form of a parched throat. He glances down at the wet spot of drool on the pillow and sighs. So much wasted liquid and now he has to brave the darkness.
Fighting off a bout of dizziness after standing up, the earth pony slips into a set of teal slippers to avoid walking on the cold, tiled but strangely soft floor and starts walking over to the bathroom.
His heart skips a beat.
Did he just hear a crack from one of the wardrobes?
Did they sense him moving?
After several seconds of standing still and holding his breath, he resumes walking with much more care. As he enters the bathroom, the ceiling light turns on on its own at a fraction of its normal luminosity.
The earth pony breathes out in relief. Despite the soothing faint light surrounding him, he doesn’t dare close the bathroom door behind him just in case he might miss any movement. After all, his bed is in the corner and it’s really dark underneath it. Much darker than in the rest of the room.
He shivers as he glares into the still living room from the relative safety of the lit bathroom. Nothing moves, nothing stares back.
The earth pony pouts before turning around and…
...quickly glancing backwards.
Still nothing.
“Eeeh...” he shakes his head and taps a button on the sink which makes lukewarm water flow from the faucet. It always stays on only for a while which sometimes makes using it cumbersome but at least he won’t waste water if he forgets about it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He lowers his muzzle to take a drink.
***
“Eeeh?!”
“You heard me right - a brain-eating amoeba in the tap water. That’s why I only drink tea here or those drinks at the bar. It weeds out the patients who will stay here forever. They only get worse, turning into drooling wrecks. Stick with me, Tighty, and you might just survive to get out. Trust nopony!”
“Eeh?”
“Yes yes, you can trust ME.”
“Eh.”
***
The earth pony backs off, watching the sink drain without touching the water. He ponders his temporary survival and weighs it against his growing thirst. This is going to take some improvising. Among the many good pieces of advice Murmur gave him was the tea and bar drink thing, so there’s a potential solution.
Besides, he really likes the green drink, much more than tea or water. It’s minty and makes his breath smell nice!
However, about getting to the common room at night…
***
“No matter what, DON’T leave your room at night.”
“Eh?”
“You’ll be lucky if they salvage enough parts from you to add a bit of you to the wardrobe, Spotty.”
“Eeeeeeeh?!”
“I haven’t seen it but I heard it. It prowls the hallways only at night. They can’t just let it hunt patients during daylight, someone would eventually speak. No, if you leave the room on your own, you’re its prey. It doesn’t understand doors or handles but outside, you’re just meat.”
***
The worst part about this one was that Tight Spot did know what Murmur was talking about at the time. Since then, he discovered scratches on the bottom of his door, he heard it clawing, trying to get inside. He always just wrapped himself in the blanket and turned away from the door, as quiet as he could to pretend the room was empty. When he tried to tell the staff, they told him it was nothing to worry about. Occasionally, they repainted the door…
...the scratch marks always quickly returned.
His room isn’t locked or even lockable from the inside but he’s still okay so there clearly was something on what Murmur said. Pondering the situation, Tight Spot concludes that the thirst is only getting worse and that his already slim options are growing ever more limited.
He needs to go outside. Are slow withering by thirst or getting eaten really his only options? Could he make it until morning? He peeks into the main room and at the digital clock above the door. It shows some kind of glowing red scribbles. He squints, trying to make sense of them but fails. He used to understand those… or were they different? Did they change into this… mess over time?
Memory is a weird thing.
With no way to tell passage of time, he decides on taking the risk, with the small caveat that he’s going to need qualified help. There’s a friend going by the name Mighty living three doors to the right, a knight who used to fight the darkest evil in the service of the sun until they, in his own words, imprisoned him here. Who are they? Tight Spot doesn’t know. Maybe the same ponies responsible for the stitched abominable experiments in the wardrobes-
Did he just hear something move in one of them?
The halls aren’t safe, the suite isn’t safe, the bed is the only safe place and right now he just can’t stay there.
Sneaky slippers? Check!
Breathing calm again? Check.
The suite door clicks open. Over the next glacial few seconds, Tight Spot slowly opens the heavy, padded door.
He feels eyes on him the instant the door clicks and closes again.
Something is coming.
It has his scent, it knows he left the safety of his home.
“Eeeh...” he whimpers quietly while reaching for the door handle. It’s a simple horizontal bar spanning the whole width of the door that he needs to push upwards and the door will open. Yet, his shaking hooves can’t get it to move. He’s opened it hundreds of times before, why not now?
It’s because it’s night and he was so foolish to leave the relative safety of his room, isn’t it?
The back of his neck starts itching under the invisible eyes of the lurking predator. He immediately turns his back to the suddenly stuck door but the feeling doesn’t abate.
*Tap tap tap tap.*
Soft noise, quick and repeated like a millipede with claws instead of those creepy tiny legs becomes audible. Spot’s eyes go wide because this time there’s no uncertainty, no chance of this just being a nightmare, an illusion caused by panic. It’s real and it’s coming.
He darts to the right, a quick and uncoordinated stampede that leaves his heavy legs tangled and chaotic.
The noise stops for a brief moment...
...then it resumes with greater speed and one goal in mind.
“Eeeeeeh!” Tight Spot whines weakly while tapping at the door of the only pony who might be able to save him now.
It gets closer.
Closer and closer, but in the blackness of the hallway he can’t make out what it is.
Will he even see it if it’s right next to him? Does he want to see it?
The door clicks open.
“EEEEH!” he jumps inside, right past a big, bearded and muscular unicorn who slams the door behind him.
Everything goes silent.
“Recruit Spotty, what are you doing-?”
The unicorn’s question dies in his throat as something starts furiously scratching at the bottom of the door.
“Eeeeeeeh!” Spot points at the door in horror.
“Stay silent, stay strong!” says Mighty with pride in his voice, “We are safe here.”
The certainty in Mighty’s voice and him standing with a firm expression and facing the door makes Tight Spot’s racing heart calm down.
The scratching stops.
A single, lonely high-pitched whine echoes through the hall and then…
...silence.
With a hearty smile, Mighty turns around, walks over to Tight Spot, and pats the smaller earth pony’s head.
“Well done, recruit Spotty! Your first encounter with the horror and you stood tall,” he takes in the entirety of the trembling pony, “Well, you stood. That counts for something. What brings you here anyway?”
“Eeeeh!” Spot gestures to his mouth and follows it with bending his head backwards and making ‘glug glug’ sounds.
“You’re drunk? On duty?!” Mighty recoils with a scowl.
“Eeeeeh!” Spot frantically shakes his head and repeats the gesture, adding a rub of his belly.
“Oh, are you thirsty?” Mighty gives it another shot upon which Tight Spot nods, “Does your bathroom not have running water? I can get you a cup.”
“EEEH!” frantic head shaking resumes as Spot adds crossing of eyes, sticks his tongue out, and starts making circles with his forelegs next to his temples.
“Alright, you got me there,” Mighty raises an eyebrow, “I have no idea what that means but… no water then?”
The earth pony smiles and nods.
“A quest then?!” Mighty’s eyes go wide, “I’m not a fan of escort quests, though.”
“Eeeeeh...” whines Tight Spot quietly.
“Fine, but you do what I say. I’m the experienced party here. Over a thousand of successful combat missions serving with the paladins. Okay?” Mighty salutes with pride.
“Eh!” his enthusiasm sparks some bravery in Spot who smacks himself in his forehead and blinks.
“That’s not how you salute, recruit! We’ll sort that out later, now it’s time for the mission. The kitchen or the common room bar?”
“Eh eh.”
“Number two it is. We’ll need some proper gear then. Just like the time I worked undercover with parrot pirates to steal the dragon lord’s scepter from diamond dogs-” Mighty launches into a tangent to which Tight Spot listens with genuine interest until the time of the day, or night, catches up with him and he yawns, immediately clamping one foreleg on his mouth, “-and then he smuggled the ruby inside his butthole and we had to reforge the holder. To this day, the dragons have no idea, heh.”
“-mmmph,” Spot finishes his yawn.
“Pff, fresh recruits,” Mighty rolls his eyes, “Can’t handle night shifts at all.”
“Eeeeh...” the earth pony hangs his head and looks down at the floor.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make a proper paladin out of you yet. First, we need to get you geared up,” Mighty walks over to one of the two massive wardrobes, his suite being pretty much the mirror image of Tight Spot’s…
...and opens it.
Spot gasps.
“Heh, they still think it’s their mess inside,” Mighty smirks, “But no, this is my armory, and no one touches my gear and lives to tell the tale,” he finishes with a growl that chills Spot to his bones. Other than during the recounting of some of his old stories in the common room when he got all worked up and had to be subdued by the big and scary guys with badges, this is the first time Tight Spot has seen the threatening side of Mighty.
It fades quickly, though, as the unicorn levitates a short sword to Spot.
“It has a mouth handle. I made this in case my horn got disabled and I had to fight my way through a horde of undead with only my skill and faith in the princess protecting me. Use it well.”
Spot bites down on the presented handle and swings the sword that surprisingly barely weighs anything until a spike of pain shoots through his neck.
“Eh eh eh...” he rubs the hurting part.
“Don’t wave that thing around without stretching, recruit!” orders Mighty in his drill sergeant tone, “You don’t have the mobility yet. Just poke at anything that gets too close. Now, I don’t have a spare suit of armor so all you’re going to get is a helmet,” he levitates a gold-colored one on Spot’s head. It’s too big and doesn’t leave him with a good field of view as it slips partly over his eyes,”You get the officer one so that if an enemy strikes, they’ll focus on you and I’ll get them from the shadows.”
“Eeh?”
“Yes, you are the bait.”
Watching Mighty put his full plate mail on with grace and skill is a sight to behold, and he’s ready in tenth of the time Spot is certain it would take him, all those cloth straps and whatnot. When he’s done, Spot points at the second, still padlocked, wardrobe.
“Eh?”
“No, that’s their stuff. I’m not sure what’s there. It took all my strength to secure this one and… even I must admit it, it wasn’t easy. Let’s not dwell on the impossible. You’re thirsty and can’t wait for some reason. What sort of a paladin would I be if I let an innocent brave these halls alone?”
“Eeeeh.”
“Watch your mouth!”
Tight Spot crosses his eyes to attempt such a feat with expected lack of success.
“Now stay behind me,” Mighty levitates up a greatsword, opens the door, and jumps into the dark hallway, the light of his telekinesis casting sharp and dancing shadows on the walls, “All clear,” he whispers after a moment.
As soon as Tight Spot walks outside, though, a familiar high-pitched whine resonates through the otherwise silent hallway.
“I have faced darkness unparalleled,” mutters Mighty to himself, “Faith was my shield and sun was my sword. I shall not falter in my duty, I shall not fail my princess. Night holds no terrors for me.”
*Tap tap tap tap.*
Sourceless steps start approaching again. Closer and closer as Tight Spot backs halfway back into Mighty’s suite. Suddenly, Mighty’s repeated prayer stops, his sword flares with light that burns away all darkness, revealing...
“Hissssss!”
...a scarred black cat with only one yellow eye and a one hind leg sticking out at an unusual angle.
“Eeeeeeh!” Spot lets his sword go, crouches down to the old cat, and starts scratching it behind an ear. After a moment, it stops glaring angrily at Mighty and starts purring into Tight Spot’s hoof.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Mighty frowns, now completely ignored by the cat, “Have my instincts failed me?”
“Eh?” Spot turns his head to the unicorn.
“No. We are being watched,” he shakes his head and his ears perk up when, in the distance, he hears some semblance of something big dragging itself along the floor, “Our time is limited, we must go!” he hisses at Spot, the golden aura of his telekinesis giving him one quick tug at his mane.
As Spot stands back up, the cat paws at his foreleg. The earth pony smiles and scoops it onto his back where it curls up.
Mighty leads the way, often turning his head back and whispering rules at Tight Spot.
“Darkness is your enemy, recruit Spotty.”
“Mhm.”
“Shadows can have claws and teeth.”
“Mhm.”
“Listen, your eyes are weak but your ears are your best ally.”
“Mhm.”
The cat yawns.
“Eh?” Spot tilts his head, squinting ahead in the light of Mighty’s horn.
“You must always be vigilant, aware of your surroundings, never let your guard d-aaaah?!” looking backwards, Mighty bumps into something tall, feels stabbing pain race across his front, immediately jumps aside and swings his blazing sword.
The top third of a potted cactus drops unceremoniously on the floor, much to the unimpressed stare of the cat and Spot’s dropped jaw.
“Ooooh!” the earth pony keeps staring at the flaming sword until the fire dies out and fades into a shimmer.
A barely audible fleshy squelch from the back makes them freeze. The cat hisses in the direction of the oppressive darkness that seems to devour even the glow of Mighty’s magic, jumps off of Spot’s back, and rushes away on three legs, the twisted fourth dangling uselessly in the back.
“Ehhhh...” Spot shuffles closer to Mighty.
“Move!” hisses the unicorn, “Now!”
For an armored pony of his size, Mighty moves even more quietly than Tight Spot with his slippers. They’re still going too quickly and everything turns into blurs as the only way Spot can keep even the barest idea of where he is are outlines of hallways and doors they pass. In less than two minutes, he’s completely lost, relying solely on the glow of Mighty rushing ahead.
The panicked escape from the unknown horror ends suddenly as Mighty pushes through a double door into a familiar, oval, wide-open room filled with armchairs and several small tables.
They made it.
Mighty shoots a flare into the air where it remains hanging and illuminating the whole common room. One wall consists completely of windows but it’s impossible to see anything outside. It’s pitch black and so overpowering it almost feels alive. The only thing Tight Spot can see when he looks outside is an earth pony so skinny that his ribs are showing through his grey coat dotted with black, horseshoe-like spots randomly scattered all over it.
The earthpony’s emerald green eyes turn red and two streams of bloody tears begin dripping down his cheeks. His already greying black mane withers and falls out. Spot can’t stop watching as his teeth lengthen and turn into sharp fangs. The pony looks at Spot with absolute, unfiltered hatred, and lunges for his throat.
“Ah damn it!” a curse from behind makes Tight Spot blink, wheeze, and back off from the window, “I knew we should have hired a covert ops specialist.”
“Eeeeh,” Spot points at his reflection in the window. It points back with a slightly open, completely normal mouth.
“Stop messing around and get over here,” says Mighty, “You won’t see anything out there with my light on in here.”
Narrowing his eyes in suspicion for one final look at the window, Spot’s reflection only repeats the motion. With a sigh, the earth pony turns around,trots over to the bar counter on the opposite side of the room, and immediately sees Mighty’s problem.
The shelf covering most of the wall that’s filled with colorful bottles is also entirely protected by a pane of plastic mesh with a small padlock on the side. The holes aren’t big enough to pull a bottle out either.
“Eeeeh...” Tight Spot pouts in disappointment.
The sound of an opening door makes both him and Mighty gasp, although where Spot just stares, paralyzed, Mighty immediately readies his sword.
A creature walks in, a monstrous parody of equine features - black, insectoid thing with teal eyes, long fangs, and holes in its four legs.
Also, wearing a white dress shirt.
“What are you doing here?” it asks.
“Spotty, run!” Mighty leaps over the counter and swings his sword at the monster’s head. It bends with a wet, slapping noise, its glow fading as it touches the creature, “Damn it, my weapon has no effect!” he glances backwards at paralyzed Tight Spot, “What are you still doing here?!”
With a rekindled flow of magic, golden aura envelops Mighty’s sword. The creature’s stubby black horn flashes green in response, answered by the same flash from a collar around Mighty’s neck.
In an instant, the unicorn’s eyes go blank and he collapses on the floor.
“EEEEEEEH!” seeing his friend fall, Tight Spot charges at the monster swinging his sword over and over against its seemingly impervious neck with a ‘plap plap plap’ noise.
“St-”
*Plap!*
“Stop-”
*Plap!*
“Stop that!”
*Plap!*
“Hmph!” the monster’s front right hoof bursts into green flames and transforms into a set of claws which rip the sword out of Spot’s mouth. The earth pony backs away, trips over his own hind legs, and falls over on his backside, shaking his head and repeating ‘Eeeh!’ over and over.
“Calm down, I was just sedating him because a guy of his build could punch my head off so hard it’d land on a table in the apartment building across the street.”
“Eeeeh!”
“Right, right,” the creature raises its foreleg, making Spot twitch, taps its chest, and a glowing hoof band appears around its fetlock, “You don’t know me but I’m Eighty, the new night warden. This is my first shift.”
“Eeh?”
“Not a talker, eh? Well, I’ll take not-a-talker any day over a paranoid ex-paladin who probably killed more of my kind than I’ve even seen you ponies.”
“Eh?”
“Nevermind,” the creature shakes its head, “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?”
Tight Spot, equally curious and puzzled about not being eaten, points at a certain green bottle on the bar shelf.
“You were thirsty?”
“Eh,” he nods.
“I really shouldn’t do this buuut...” the creature walks over to the mesh pane lock, levitates a keyring from his chest pocket, unlocks it, and slides the protective screen away, “Mint and lime, eh?” he levitates the bottle down and pours a glass to Tight Spot, “Personally, I love the smell, can’t stand the taste.”
Spot chugs the glass.
“Eeeeeh...” he smiles in relief.
“Now you’ve gotta help me carry this big guy back to his room before he wakes up. Well, I’ll carry him and you- you watch my back, okay?”
“Eh!” Tight Spot smacks himself in the forehe- salutes.
Less than ten minutes later, Mighty and all his gear are stowed away back inside his room, and Tight Spot waves from his bed at Eighty who turns the light in his room off and closes the door.
The earth pony turns the pillow the wet side down and closes his eyes.
Scary quest successful - avoided strange monster, Mighty is okay, met a new friend, got to pet Tripod, and not thirsty anymore. Also, didn’t get eaten.
Within moments, Tight Spot falls asleep so hard he doesn’t even register the faint rattling inside one of his wardrobes and scratching at the door.