//------------------------------// // The Bar // Story: Fatelocked // by Pon13 //------------------------------// "Let's get this straight," you say, your mind processing the newfound information as you and Dawn stroll towards Canterlot Castle. The weight of the revelation sinks in. "So, if it's a Doppelganger, seeing yourself means certain death, encountering a Changeling drains your emotions, and a Skinwalker... well, that would simply involve having your face devoured." Dawn chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. "I would have worded it less morbidly, but you've got the gist of it. These three creatures are what we refer to as mimics. The Doppelganger is a spirit, while the Skinwalker and Changeling are classified as cryptids. Although, after the invasion and our subsequent discovery of Changeling society and their queen, they are now considered enemy combatants rather than mere cryptids." "So, it's the Royal Guards' responsibility to handle them?" you ask, seeking clarity. "Indeed, it falls under their jurisdiction. However, we still come across these creatures from time to time," Dawn responds, motioning towards a narrow alleyway. "This way," she sings. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "I envisioned a cozy bar or a mysterious midnight cafe, not getting mugged in an alley." Dawn chuckles once again, her voice laced with amusement. "Don't worry. We are indeed heading to a bar, and it happens to be the best one around. It's where everyone from the PHEER organization gathers." "Something tells me this place is a dive..." you remark, eyeing the narrow, rickety stairs that descend into darkness. The wooden steps creak with every cautious footfall, giving a sense of age and weariness. As you approach the entrance, you notice the front door—a weathered, peeling monstrosity that bears the scars of time. Its paint, once vibrant and welcoming, has long since faded, leaving only a dull, worn surface. "How did you guess?" Dawn chuckles, her amusement evident. "Now, down here," she sings again, her wings guiding her gracefully down the treacherous staircase. The dim light casts eerie shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. You follow Dawn, descending the worn steps and standing behind her as she knocks on the rusty metal door. The sound reverberates through the confined space, blending with the faint echoes of distant conversations. The door itself bears the signs of neglect, covered in patches of rust that flake off with every touch. "Let me do the talking," Dawn whispers to you, anticipation hanging in the air. After a moment, you hear the distinct sound of a grinding metal latch sliding across on the other side of the door. With a groan, the heavy door creaks open an inch, revealing a gruff voice from the other side. "Last orders rang two hours ago. Leave," it grumbles, the weariness evident in its tone. "I guess the bell tolls," Dawn replies with a hint of resignation. The door swings open wide, revealing the interior of the bar, where warm light and muffled laughter spill into the darkened alley. You step forward, ready to follow, only to be met by a massive, gray Earth pony blocking your path. His tired, dark blue eyes fix on you with an unwavering gaze, his imposing stature casting a formidable shadow. His presence alone feels like an impenetrable barrier. You've dealt with bouncers back on Earth before, usually with less-than-desirable outcomes. Arguing with someone of his intimidating size and strength would likely end in trouble. Dawn, already inside, calls out to you. "Are you coming or what, Anon?" she asks, gesturing for you to join her. "He's not letting me in," you respond, frustration tinged in your voice. "Just ignore him. Come on," Dawn urges, waving a hoof, seemingly undeterred by the bouncer's rejection. "I don't think he'll let me pass," you express your concern. Dawn lets out a sigh, slipping back into the bar. "Wait there, Anon. I'll talk to the owner and get you in. Stay put. Buff, you keep an eye on him," she instructs, casting a glance toward the formidable bouncer. Standing there, you can't help but notice the overpowering scent of his aftershave that assaults your senses. It fills the air with an intense, almost suffocating aroma. Did he bathe in it or something? "So..." you start, rubbing the back of your head nervously. "Nice night, huh?" The bouncer grunts in response, his tired expression unchanged. "...Busy night? You look tired," you continue, attempting to strike up a conversation. He grunts again, uninterested in small talk. Realizing your attempts are in vain, you resort to grunting back, meeting his challenge. Bulk narrows his eyes, responding with an even louder grunt. Accepting the unspoken contest, you grunt forth once more. "What are you two doing?" Dawn's voice interrupts the grunting match, coming from behind the stoic stallion. "Let him in, Buff," a male voice calls out from within the bar. Buff grunts once more, begrudgingly stepping aside. You step through the doorway, feeling Buff's intense gaze following your every move. Pausing for a moment, you nod at him and grunt again, a gesture of gratitude. In response, he grunts back. "I wouldn't annoy him too much, Anon. If you want to know what happens when you push Buff too far, ask Aether," Dawn warns as you follow her into the bar, leaving the bouncer behind. The smell of stale smoke and booze permeates the air, confirming your suspicions about the bar. This place is undeniably a dive. Round tables, scattered throughout the room, occupy the worn wooden floor. Each table bears the marks of time, with chipped surfaces and graffiti etched into their worn edges. You had expected the establishment to be crowded, but to your surprise, only a handful of ponies occupy the dimly lit space. The majority of the patrons seem to be off-duty nightguards, seeking solace after a long shift. "Well, I never thought I'd have a cryptid in my bar," a stallion calls out from behind the counter, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and intrigue. The bar owner, named Tender, sports an off-white apron that contrasts with his dull dark purple coat and black mane. He polishes a glass with his front hooves, his gaze fixed on you, awaiting your response. "More like an alien. I come in peace and all that..." you shrug, trying to maintain a casual demeanor amidst the unique surroundings. Tender chuckles, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I like you. The name's Tender. Do you know what beer is?" "Pint, no large head," you respond, asserting your preference. "You'll get what you're given, besides the ones in the house. Accept it as a peace offering between our planets," Tender remarks, his eyes glimmering with a playful twinkle. You smirk, appreciating the banter, and make your way toward the bar as Tender slides a foaming beer in your direction. "Anon, I need to talk to Tender for a minute. I'll order the food. What do you want?" Dawn interjects with a smile, her attention shifting momentarily. "I'll have what you're having... Just no hay," you reply, the thought of a hotdog sounding more appetizing. "Hotdog it is then. Go and find a table; I'll be over shortly," Dawn instructs, her voice filled with warmth and camaraderie. "Sure," you nod, scanning the room for an available table. You aim to find a spot away from the bustling bar area, yet not too isolated. After a brief search, you locate a table that meets your criteria—a quiet corner where you can observe the bar's ambiance without being in the midst of it all. Among the tables, your eyes lock onto a familiar face—Mini. She sits with her hoof propping up her cheek, wearing a disappointed expression. Her deep ocean blue mane is styled into a ponytail, with two bangs framing her face. "Mini?" you ask, making your way over to her. She looks up, her large orange eyes widening in recognition as she cocks her head to one side. "I thought that was you," you point to the empty chair opposite her. "Is this one taken?" Mini shrugs and waves a hoof, signaling for you to do as you wish. Placing your pint on the table, you pull out the chair and take a seat. "Something tells me tonight didn't go as planned." The silent bat pony frowns and points at a still-full pint glass sitting next to yours. "So someone stood you up? A date?" you inquire, sympathetic to her situation. Mini nods slowly. "Ouch. You know, this reminds me of my first date..." You begin, offering her a reassuring smile. "I managed to charm a lovely blonde back on Earth—outgoing, nice legs, beautiful eyes. She had it all. I decided to take her to the fanciest restaurant in town..." As you continue with your story, Mini's expression transitions from disappointment to contentment as she listens intently. "...The meal went fine, and when I called for the tab, we headed home," you huff, shaking your head. "The strange part was, she asked me to drop her off at a house thirty miles outside of town. Well, being the person I am, I agreed, and we set off in my car-" Upon hearing the word "car," Mini gives you a confused expression, accompanied by a shrug. "It's like a chariot, but it has a machine that propels it instead of a horse or pony. It gets you from point A to point B fast," you explain, cursing yourself for the inadequate description. However, Mini nods, indicating she has a rough idea. "So everything seemed fine until she pulled out a gun—well, more like a salt blaster or a smaller version of a musket designed to kill," you hold up two fingers, indicating the size of a pistol. "Anyway, she retrieves it from her purse. Being weaponless, I had no choice but to pull over and stop the car..." With her hooves held up to her mouth, Mini mimes a gasp, her eyes wide with shock. "Yeah, once we were outside, she ordered me to hand over all my possessions and strip. Then, she proceeded to put everything in the car and drove off, leaving me miles from town, butt naked and alone... So, I guess you could say she 'walked' on me." A smirk forms behind Mini's hooves as she stifles her laughter, unable to maintain eye contact with you. "You can laugh. That's all I can do when I think about it," you say, your smile genuine. Her hooves drop, and Mini bursts into silent laughter, wiping a tear from her eye. For some reason, you feel like she finds the situation even funnier than you do. Suddenly, you feel a puff of air against your ear, accompanied by another assault of the bouncer's overpowering aftershave. Turning your head, you come face to face with those familiar, tired blue eyes glaring at you. "Is this creature bothering you, miss?" Buff asks Mini, his voice stern. The bat mare shakes her head, dismissing his concern, and waves him away. She points at you, then forms a "U" shape by her mouth with her hooves, indicating that you were making her happy. "Well, if there's any trouble, let me know, and I'll make him disappear," Buff offers, a hint of threat in his words. You tilt your head, looking at Buff, then back at Mini. "You know, I bet Buff here is single." Mini smirks and flicks a hoof dismissively. "Yeah, you're right. He's too much of a talker. Can barely get a word in," you joke, leaning back in your chair. Buff moves closer, his muzzle inches from your cheek, and snorts a blast of air at you before finally departing. "Actually, deep down, I bet he's a sweetheart..." you muse aloud. Mini rolls her eyes, shaking her head in amusement. "Food has been ordered," Dawn calls out, trotting toward you. "Oh, hi Mini!" Mini waves at Dawn Light with a warm and friendly smile, happy to see her. "Are you enjoying your night off, Mini?" Dawn asks, her voice filled with concern. Mini points to her full glass, then back to herself. "Somepony walked out on you?" Dawn inquires, her brow furrowed. Mini nods, a hint of disappointment in her expression. "Why?" you ask, curious about the reason for her failed date. Mini huffs and points to Dawn's armor, indicating that her line of work was the issue. "Aww..." Dawn pulls Mini into a comforting hug. "Don't worry, Mini. You'll find a special somepony someday." The silent mare sighs but manages to smile at the gesture. "How did he find out? I'm not sure how you would communicate that you're working for PHEER," you ask, realizing that your question might be sensitive. Mini points to Tender, who approaches the table with two plates balanced on his leathery wing. "What?" Tender asks, setting the hotdogs on the table. "Apparently, you ruined Mini's date," Dawn informs the bartender. "Oh, that guy freaked out when I told him Mini here works for PHEER," Tender explains. Mini folds her front legs and frowns, feeling disheartened. "He would have found out eventually, Mini..." Dawn tries to console her. The mute mare looks defeated, her disappointment evident. "Mini, look, I'm sorry. I didn't know he was your date... Anyway, I need to get back to the bar. You two enjoy your meals," Tender says, returning to his station behind the counter. You reach over and grab your hotdog, thanking Tender as he walks away. Turning to the two mares, you express your curiosity, "What's the problem with working for PHEER? We're doing good, right? What's with the stigma?" "It's the danger that comes with the job, and the fact that work becomes your life. It's not exactly settled-down material," Dawn explains, her expression showing some discomfort with her choice of words. Mini's gaze shoots towards Dawn upon hearing her response, her face twisted with envy. "Mini..." Dawn reaches out to her, but she is abruptly pushed aside as the silent bat pony leaves the bar. "Mini, come back! I didn't mean it like that!" You watch as Mini approaches Buff, pointing at you and forming a "U" shape with her hooves before departing. The bouncer snorts in your direction, then turns towards the door, following Mini. "What was that about, Dawn?" you ask, completely taken aback by the sudden turn of events. "...Don't blame her. She gets jealous because I got a lucky roll of the dice from fate," Dawn explains, pushing her plate away, the food untouched. "Many in PHEER dislike me because I have a happy ending... And Mini, like others, sometimes feels jealous." "A happy ending?" you inquire. "I die peacefully in my bed at a grand old age, surrounded by my family. I couldn't see any faces, but I knew my foals and grandfoals were there..." Dawn trails off, her voice tinged with a mix of bittersweetness and longing. "If there's any consolation, I'm not jealous," you remark sincerely. Dawn smiles, appreciating your words. "It's nice to hear that, Anon." You smirk, adding a touch of humor to the conversation. "Well, obviously mine is better. I get a comfy hospital bed, with Aether crazily pumping poison into my veins." To your relief, your co-agent laughs, her spirits lifting a little. "Each to their own, monkey colt." "Jokes aside, will you and Mini be alright? She did snub you there," you express your concern. "Mini is like that. There's a little bit of Molo in Mini and a little bit of Mini in Molo. I'm pretty sure she'll apologize with a big hug tomorrow night," Dawn reassures you, her confidence in their bond evident. After finishing your early morning meal, you and Dawn return to base just as the sun begins to creep over the horizon. Bright Eyes greets you at the bottom of the stone stairs. "Good morning," she says, her emerald eyes fixed on you. "I see you made it back in one piece." "Morning. Turned out it was a ghost of a little filly," you reply, stifling a yawn. "Either way, it could have been a demon posing as a little filly. Don't think all your assignments will be such a breeze," Bright Eyes warns, her gaze shifting to Dawn. "Dawn, why did it take all night to clear out one little spirit?" Dawn stands straight, ready to provide an explanation. "I gave Anonymous a tour of Canterlot. I showed him the old underground platform at the station and House Two-Two-Three." Bright Eyes remains silent for a moment, taking in Dawn's response. "I see. May I ask why?" "Experience. I showed him two different anomalies he can expect," Dawn explains confidently. "Well done, Dawn. Debrief over. Go to bed," Bright Eyes commands, concluding the conversation. You bid Dawn goodnight and head toward your bunk, but before you can open the door, Bright Eyes speaks again from her desk. "Anon, you'll be working with Aether tomorrow. You'll have an assignment outside of Canterlot. Will this be an issue?" "I don't think he'll kill me yet. From the way he acted, we were very good friends," you reply, trying to sound casual. "Good. And well done for using your head. Use your fate to your advantage, but never tempt it," Bright Eyes advises, stretching her wings. "I'll be turning in soon. Goodnight, Anon." With that, the gem-eyed mare leaves for her room. You push the door open and find Aether sitting on his bed, looking up at you with his yellowish-green eyes. "I take it you were listening," you remark, trying to gauge his reaction. "Didn't have a choice, bud. My hearing is pretty good," Aether shrugs his wings. "Alright, I should be honest with you. I'm a little worried about being around you. You know, the whole 'killing me in the future' bit... It kind of rubs me the wrong way," you admit, walking to your bed and beginning to remove your armor and gear. "There has to be a reason for me to do it," Aether replies, flopping back on his bed with his limbs and wings sprawled out. You hang up your armor and place your backpack in the lower part of your locker. "Well, you implied that you killed the rest of the team." "That part doesn't make sense. They all have different fates. Take Dawn, for example. She gets a good life," Aether explains. "She told me about that earlier," you confirm. "She did?" Aether raises his head slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Normally, she keeps that to herself. But anyway," he flicks a hoof dismissively, "there still has to be a reason for me to do it. I'm not some mindless killer, you know." "You could be. I just met you," you retort, feeling a mix of caution and curiosity. "Well, you could be one too. Ready to have your wicked way with me while I sleep," Aether teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm not a succubus..." you reply, caught off guard by his comment. "Incubus," Aether corrects, smirking. "Eh?" you pause, taking off your shoes. "What's that?" "A male succubus," Aether clarifies. "Unless..." he sits up, his gaze shifting down toward your crotch, "I've seen many weird cryptids in my time..." Without hesitation, you launch your pillow straight at Aether's face. "I have a goddamn cock!" "Well, if you tuck it behind, I could overlook it," Aether calmly places the pillow to one side, feigning seriousness. You glare at the male bat pony, dumbfounded by his comment. Is he hitting on you? After a moment, Aether's face begins to crack, and he bursts into laughter. "I'm joking, bud!" "That wasn't funny!" you exclaim, realizing that the others are probably asleep and you need to keep your voice down. "Buddy, relax. I'm a connoisseur of the female sex," Aether reassures you, his playful tone returning. "I was under the impression that you'd go after everything," you respond, recalling the earlier conversation. "Half of everything," Aether corrects as he fires your pillow back at you. Catching the pillow, you groan and climb into your bed. "Anyway, bud, we have a good cryptid hunt tomorrow," Aether announces as he, too, settles into his bed, placing his head on the pillow. "Have you heard of Yarramares?" "I thought SMILE deals with cryptids?" you ask, curious about the change of focus. "They do, but we're called in on this one because Yarramares are spirits that physically manifest," Aether explains, his voice growing sleepy. "What are they, then?" you inquire, sitting up and folding your arms. "They're ancient spirits, usually summoned by foolish ponies who dabble in dark magic," Aether explains, his eyelids starting to droop. You remain attentive, listening to his words. "Hey, I know what I'm doing. I'm fully licensed for this. Besides, these ponies, probably teenagers or amateur hunters, end up summoning them, thinking it's all just one big game," Aether continues, his words slowing as sleepiness overtakes him. "Why do they summon them?" you ask, genuinely curious. "There could be a number of reasons. Back in ancient times, before the great unification, the summoning ritual was a curse..." Aether yawns, his voice trailing off. "A pony from a neighboring tribe would trick another into performing the ritual, thinking it would bring good fortune to their village." "Let me guess, it doesn't go down well," you interject, sensing where the story is heading. "No, it doesn't. The ritual is deceptively simple. You gather a jar or container, place a cutting of a newborn foal's mane, a piece of burnt wood, a gold coin, and a grain of wheat from the last harvest. After that, you bury it on the outskirts of your village in the early hours," Aether explains, his words becoming more distant. "I see where the pony could be fooled. All those things are associated with good fortune... Although I don't understand the burnt wood," you remark, trying to understand the significance. "Items used in dark magic are often symbolic. Gold represents wealth, wheat signifies a good harvest, and the newborn mane represents fertility... A good heat, if you catch my drift," Aether chuckles sleepily. "And the burnt wood?" you press, wanting to grasp the complete picture. "Put that in the jar. All those items would get covered in soot and become darkened, effectively reversing their symbolism," Aether concludes, his voice fading as he succumbs to sleep. You roll over in your bed, contemplating the information you've just received. The thought of encountering Yarramares sends a cold shiver down your spine. How will you recognize one? Aether's sleep-laden mumblings provide a vague description: a pony-like figure, pure white, with no head and long legs. You hope that you'll know it when you see it. Lost in your thoughts, you drift off to sleep, the stone wall becoming the backdrop for your ponderings about the strange and dangerous situations you find yourself in.