//------------------------------// // MemLog_user*null:return_filename: Sometimes You Still Lose // Story: De_Termination// // by WindigogoGadget //------------------------------// The dream realm was silent. This was not a bad thing, nor was it particularly odd these days. It had been odd initially, even frightening at first since she had returned from her banishment a thousand years ago, but in the new era of Harmony that had been ushered in in her absence the void of the dreamscape was nowhere near as noisy and aggressive as it was once was. The vast majority of nightmares were mere warnings of the mind to lay off the cake, to rethink decisions, and the dreams remained pleasant experiences as usual. Still, only because there was slightly less intensive work in the modern era did not mean that there was no work to be done, the dreamscape still required tending to, weeding out the constant lesser nightmares so that they would not fester. The dreamscape was never supposed to be uniform for long as minds would constantly be in flux with their emotions, with static dreams and nightmares almost always being indicators of something worse possibly coming into play. A nightmare was typically worse. A nightmare was what she was looking at. Or so she thought, initially. It shared the distorted, chaotic nature of nightmares that she once saw so often once upon her time, but it was also highly unstable, vaguely having the signature of an old memory as well. Her best bet that it was some type of fever dream that was taking elements of old, possibly traumatic, memories. Magic flowed from her horn as she shaped the miniscule dream with her hooves, attempting to slide into the anomaly to investigate. Whatever it was, was not a pony either. It did not feel like any sort of dream or nightmare she had entered before. Entering the dream she stumbled on the fabric of its reality as she saw grand cities surrounding her, similar to Manehatten, the modern sprawl with towering buildings everywhere as far as the eye could see. It was almost repetitive. In fact, she could not see anything very far in the distance, everything would end in a corner that would cut the field of view. This was a common trick of the mind to avoid needing to bring up unnecessary detail, and was equally common in weak dreams or weakened minds. In theory, all she would have to do is trace back to where the most detail was, and she'd find her mystery creature along with the source of the anomalous dream. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⡾⠿⠿⢷⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀ ⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⡀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⡼⢹⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀ ⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠘⣷⠀⢠⠟⠈⢿⣧⠀⢰⠃⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇ ⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢻⣷⠏⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠃⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⣸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣢⣰⣧⣤⣄⡀⠀⢸⡟ ⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠷⠾⣿⡞⠛⠛⡿⠋⢽⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃ ⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⢻⣷⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢶⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⠾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠛⠒⠚⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Aiden opened his car door and fell right into his chair. He was dressed up in his old trench coat and black ball cap get-up. Pulling out his vibrating phone he answered the phone call of a fixer, Jordi Chin, an Asiatic man with a few screws loose with an affinity for silenced weaponry and fancy white suits. Aiden wasn't entirely sure what to make of him after he had thrown him off a lighthouse, ignoring the fact that Jordi had also survived that fall. Someone had paid him big money to take him out during that, but somewhere along the line after that fiasco, it was back to business with the psychotic Fixer. "I'm bleedin' here, you?" Came the tinny voice from his cellphone, Jordi spoke in a lightly gruff and swift, blasé voice, just another day at work for him. At least he wasn't whining about Maurice this time. "I'm holding up" Was Aiden's equally neutral response. "Maurice finally gave in. Suddenly he was all talk. I'll give you a location then you can figure it out yourself." "That's business, huh?" "Yeah, that's right. It's all business." The phone went silent as Jordi hung up on him. 'Snappy.' He turned a corner on the road, driving around a district of Chicago known as the Mad Mile, both by CTos data repositories and colloquially. The streets blended together as his smooth driving sped up as he made his way through backroads and highways, the late-night traffic oddly thin. Stopping at a street light at an intersection of nowhere important, Aiden heard a little voice that he only half-mindedly paid attention to. There were no pedestrians walking, and he was sure that there might be another car incoming from the left. 'An odd method of speech. Is he a friend of yours?' 'Jordi's like that. Tidy fixer. Keeps the loose ends clean.' 'So then. Why is it that you are the one he sent for?' 'Maurice is one of his loose ends. And he's ultimately my problem. He's the one who shot my car. Killed my niece... 'Is that all it is? One final act of revenge? Or is it justice?' 'I want to say we're different. But I don't know anymore. How many people have I hurt? Killed? Who deserves that? Who deserves to die?' The car stopped abruptly in front of a garage somewhere in the northern Mad Mile of Chicago. It was the only thing that could be made out of the blur of grey buildings looking the same as usual, towering and full of lights. Squinting, he looked at his phone screen and initiated an exploit that caused the door to open up, shakily and slowly the door rattled as a result of its improper usage. Blinding light flooded in from the headlights of his car, shining judgingly on the man before the gate came down, smoothly this time. Inside were a few shelves stacked with cans of something, likely paint, with a reed propane canister in the corner alongside some dried blood on the floor and cardboard mats darkly stained with oil or water, one of the two. His gaze now returned to the bloodied man, stumbling over his words and repeating a string of nonsensical numbers. The muttering of 'one, two, three, five,' was almost annoying enough to get him to take Jordi's previous advice of just popping him and being done with it. Almost. "Hey-" "Fucking shoot me! Come on. Make you sleep better at night. Killed the guy that killed your niece. Good for you, you selfish fuck! ...Yeah I deserve it, but it doesn't change anything. Nothing... ever changes" Maurice blurted, snapping from the prone position to hunched over in an instant with unnatural speed. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it went. Maurice was a coward who put his reasoning into audio logs as some type of indirect confession. He didn't even have the balls to ask to die this early on in their talk. Not until after he was done warning him of something. He used to have this dream a long time ago for a very long time and had every single detail of it burned into his mind. It wasn't until fairly recently when he'd tried putting things aside to work past the fallout of chasing the coverup of his niece's death had become, did he finally stop having that dream. The entire conversation was burned into his mind. Because he chose mercy. Maurice was living his own personal hell, as a victim with blood on his hands, as a failed family man, whose wife was kidnapped by viceroys and sold off somewhere in one of Lucky Quinn's auctions. He was a failed version of himself. So he shot him. And he turned his aim to the only visitor he'd hate to see. Princess Luna, the Princess of the Night. Princess of Privacy Invasions too by this point, this was a very personal dream. "Get. Out." He growled. He didn't care for what reasons she showed up, his brain was sacred, and he didn't care if this was reality or the result of a machine digging around in his consciousness again, he would blow her brains out and get charged for regicide if that's what it took to get her out of his head. She stared at the unmoving form of Maurice, who stood stock still in his cowering state, not even registering the fact that he had been shot in the head. Where blood and gray matter should have been splattered on the concrete, there was just a little spurt of red liquid pasted over the concrete and an equally unimpressive illusion of a hole in Maurice's forehead. A memory as powerful as this one could not be manipulated without skill and impressively strong magic, alongside an in-depth understanding of the mind. "What are you...?" Luna whispered hoarsely. Aiden's gun was still trained directly at Luna's head, or perhaps just a little off to the side. The slide of his pistol snapped backward loudly as a hole was made into the wall next to her. "Last warning. Get out. Before I make you." And then Aiden was sent through the wall of his own dream and onto the empty streets of Chicago. "NAY KNAVE! WE SHALL NOT BE INTIMIDATED IN OUR REALM. YIELD AND DIVULGE YOUR ORIGINS AT ONCE!" Aiden Pearce started shooting back with his gun, his Colt 45 Long Slide had suddenly turned into some nine-millimeter handgun. He couldn't tell if it was the Sig-Saur P9MM he used once or a (once upon a time) fancy Glock, the two were mashed together in some way. Sometimes it looked more like the P9MM than the Glock. At least a dozen shots were fired directly into the face of the Lunar princess in what felt like a second, then his phone pinged, and she was tagged with the mark of a simple, red shield, superimposed over her in his vision instead of his phone screen. The mark of an Enforcer. Fuck. That really only left him with two viable options in a desynchronizing dream. Option one, face Luna head-on and attempt to perform a physical takedown on her- "HOW DARE YOU STRIKE ME!?" Or just use an overwhelming amount of firepower from a distance. It was a good thing he was making distance already as in the time it took for her to shout, Aiden had already run off to the back of a car for cover. His pistol wasn't going to cut it, (though he did use one to take down an Enforcer, it was really only the one time) so he swapped out for something heavier. But first. "MY BUCKING EARS!" A quick-hack intended for unsecured comms went off, shorting electrical equipment and the headset that would typically be on an enforcer. In this case, it sent an overload of signals to the mind that were interpreted as the loudest, most ear-bleeding screech you could ever imagine. Aiden was happy he never wore earbuds, and as such never had this problem. Instead he had the problem of having his fucking ears feel like they were going to burst if he didn't shut her up soon. He had maybe a second or two to keep rummaging around the inside of his jacket, usually, he could have a minute before the effects wore off or the victim ripped off the gear, but he was playing it safe and overestimating his opponent for now. He felt his hands brush up something he owned a long time ago. He wasn't sure how he got his hands on it at a pawn shop of all things but- He had a grenade launcher, and just a little bit of a plan to go with it. A four part plan with bombs for throwing at her. Step one. "AGH!" Start bombing, immediately. His revolving launcher gave an intimidating thump before Luna was expectedly knocked back by the force of a forty-millimeter grenade directly impacting her in the chest. In the real world, it was likely to have embedded itself in her chest instead of triggering the impact fuse, but this was a dream, and he decided the rules of physics here. Since Luna was temporarily out of the way he opened the car door of something red and sleek looking and hopped right in, grenade launcher on his left hand. Worst case scenario, the dream ended right after he got caught by some nasty spell, best case scenario, he would kick Luna out, and promptly figure out what was up with this dream. Step two. Start driving, immediately. The engine roared to life as his wheels skidded along the pavement, burning rubber as he forced Luna to come looking. He was in the actual prime of his life here, and he didn't have something like poor nutrition in the way of his strength. He checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing approaching, for now. The roads looked too familiar, an odd mix of Pawnee and The Loop and the Mad Mile. Maybe if he could focus on the upcoming underpass he could... He didn't know, but maybe if he changed location enough times it would kick her out. This was new terrain. "Cease thy efforts at once! You cannot escape from us in the dream realm!" Luna suddenly materialized right next to his car's driver-side window. Slamming on the gas, he lowered the window with a precariously placed elbow as he maneuvered the launcher out and back at her, firing twice. The recoil and weight were negligible, but the fact remained that it was still incredibly cumbersome. Didn't I see a pump-action version of these things at one point? Luna blew up again, but Aiden couldn't confirm it on account of the smokescreen provided by the second blast. He brought his arm back in, ditching the launcher for the time being as he imagined a smaller, more maneuverable single-shot grenade launcher to his left, right where the pedals would be. That was how lucid dreaming worked right? You imagined things and they would come up into existence. Aiden groaned to himself. When the hell did dreaming get complicated? The only time it ever got weird was during a digital trip, and those things went underground when he left Chicago. How much longer was it to get out of this tunnel? Time moved differently in your sleep right? In any case, there wasn't any traffic, the roads were entirely clear of anything except a few barrels of sand. So why were there motorcyclists approaching...? That fucking- It's not real. It's not real. Speed up and don't look back. Don't look at the car seat. You've moved on. You don't look back. You've moved on. His right passenger side wheel went, a bullet fairly ripping through it as the vehicle was suddenly overturned. Glass broke and sprayed shards everywhere, and the motorcyclists were gone. His hand punched through the glass with ease, his fists trembling as he clawed his way out. Uninjured. But someone didn't make it out that night. Aiden kept his eyes away from the little lamb doll on the road, never look back. Those times were over. "You've got a lot of nerve digging around in my head like that so I just want to make one thing clear-" He snapped onto Luna's position, startling the mare of the night. She seemed shocked, but not at the fact she'd been detected. The world was distorted, quite literally glitching in and out a few feet beyond the gruesome memory. "You might think you play a beautiful game digging around in dreams, easing nightmares or whatever- but sometimes?" "Sometimes you still lose. Now get the hell out of here." A gunshot rang, and this time Luna couldn't just tank it. She rag dolled and went flying for a foot or two before simply dissipating into nothing. Not having the energy to deal with it all anymore, Aiden simply let himself fall onto the concrete road below him. He then woke up having falling onto the dirt in his hideout. He felt exhausted, his muscles burned from having pushed himself so hard yesterday, and his head was killing him. 'Oh. Damn it. I've messed up this time, haven't I? Where the hell do I run to now?' ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⡀⢉⡽⠁⠀⠀⣿⣦⠤⠤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡷⠀⣀⠤⠤⢤⣴⡿⠁⠀⢰⠀⣿⣿⣷⣤⠶⢶⣬⣭⣕⣒⠠⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⡇⠀⠀⡞⣾⠁⠀⠀⠘⠀⠹⣇⣀⣙⡆⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠷⠮⣉⠲⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣀⢸⡀⢰⢃⣿⣧⣴⡶⣿⣿⡶⢼⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠛⠷⣤⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡏⠀⡇⢸⢻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣌⣻⣿⣿⣿⣥⣼⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⢱⢸⢺⣿⣿⣥⠈⠛⠣⢤⣙⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⠈⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⡾⠆⠀⠙⣿⣿⠇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣾⣿⣣⣴⣾⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠖⢿⡆⠸⣏⢳⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠉⠙⠛⠋⣭⣷⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⢰⣿⣷⡄⣿⣾⣟⠬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠲⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠢⠬⣭⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿⣯⡑⠦⣾⣿⡟⣡⣔⣁⠴⢟⣱⠂⠀⠀⠈⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠋⠀⣄⢀⣿⣿⢿⣷⠀⣿⢧⡙⢦⣙⣿⣿⣽⣿⣁⣹⠟⠛⢀⡇⠀⠀⠘⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⣏⣹⣦⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢿⣇⢘⡶⢬⣉⣿⣽⣿⣟⣻⣤⠆⣠⣺⣾⡇⡂⠀⢠⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡇⢰⠃⢛⣿⣯⣉⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣈⣛⣿⡿⠟⢀⠜⠁⣹⣿⣷⣿⠀⣸⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⢣⠇⠀⣾⣿⣿⣟⣏⡜⢧⣬⣿⣿⣯⣽⣀⣿⣿⣟⣁⠔⠁⠀⠀⣽⣿⣿⠏⢀⣿⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡼⠃⣨⣤⣴⣿⢃⢹⢻⡾⠀⠘⢿⣿⣟⠘⣿⣿⠿⣿⣏⣄⣀⡀⡀⠀⣸⡿⣿⠇⢈⡏⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⣾⠿⠟⢛⠇⡸⣾⢸⡇⣀⣦⣈⣿⣿⡆⢯⣀⣲⠛⠉⠉⠑⠾⣿⢃⣿⡇⠌⠀⣼⡗⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣧⠁⠀⣠⠊⠀⢳⠃⠘⠇⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢸⣿⣷⣤⣀⣠⠤⠊⢀⣼⣿⡄⢀⠼⣿⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠙⣇⢻⣿⣦⣴⣃⡄⠀⢀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠹⣿⠒⡿⠟⠛⢋⡤⠒⢁⢾⣿⠙⡠⠋⠀⠛⠁⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠓⠾⣅⣈⣉⣀⠀⠠⢷⡀⢸⣆⣠⣿⡄⢻⣴⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⣾⣷⣾⣷⠒⢉⡀⢀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣾⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⡿⣟⡠⢀⠄⣠⣿⣿⠟⢛⡉⠛⠀⡞⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢸⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡀⢹⠰⣚⣯⣾⣿⣿⡟⠉⠀⢀⡀⢠⢷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣦⣿⡯⠀⡾⠋⠁⠰⣶⡟⢁⠎⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Luna awoke in the morning with a pounding headache, her hooves jumped to her face in some vain attempt to ease the pain in some capacity, but it was agonizing. Even with her alicorn strength, the pain of having caught something which then proceeded to tear straight through her head and out the back, was not something anycreature could so easily shrug off. She was a fool. That wasn't a nightmare trying to form, it was a mind trying- almost winning against the creation of a nightmare. And she'd made it real. By getting frightened by something new, by getting proud... By her mothers name she fought someone innocent in the respit of dreams. She had royally messed up.