//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: A Waking Nightmare // Story: Callsign MANE VI: Twilight // by Col_StaR //------------------------------// Twilight believed she was dead. Everything was still. Her body had vanished. The world around her ceased to exist. She could barely comprehend her own thoughts- Her mind was an intricate creation reduced to smoldering wreckage, a string of shattered synapses and electrical shortage that swirled in the vacuum of her skull; thoughts only existed as broken fragments, leaking recognizable nonsense and broken records to the forefront of her handicapped cognizance: could anything be salvaged? Humpty Dumpty. It was a nursery rhyme. Mother would sing it before bed. How did it end? “All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men… they never saw her ever again.” Her eyes began to flutter, taking glimmers of light. Now she only wished she was dead. Twilight could feel her consciousness flickering on and off like a bulb burning out. Her eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets trying to focus on the shadowed ceiling above her. Her body was weak and immobile, paralyzed by a great weight on top of her. Breathing was an act of manual labor. The gnawing hunger in her stomach only emphasized her fatigue. And the headache she had was the worst pain she had ever felt, like being repeatedly stabbed in the brain from the inside out. For what felt like hours, the girl was left lying down in the darkened room, fighting with a half-scrambled mind to regain control of her own body. It was a painstaking process. The first sign of progress was the sound of rain. The empty ringing in her ears subsided to the pattering against glass, a shower of droplets to herald the coming storm. Next, her eyes achieved a focused picture. Unable to move, she had to roll her neck to look around. Faint brushes of light shone through the frosted glass windows onto the wooden floors of the darkened room. The bed she was lying upon was nearest to the room’s only window, but across the wide room were faint silhouettes of dressers, framed pictures upon tables, and a large wood door. The numbness began to subside as her sense of touch began to return, spreading from her core and on to her extremities. The handcuffs were still there, but her wrist felt unusually light. Despite her discomfort, Twilight found a little solace from the plush silk sheets, sliding cleanly between her fingertips. When her body felt whole again, she fought against the weight on her shoulders and force herself upright. She dragged her legs over the edge of the bed. The gap between her feet and the floor was only a few inches, yet it felt like miles. Twilight shut her eyes and forced her feet down, planting one foot onto the wood below. And then the other. She tried to stand, but her frail legs betrayed her at the attempt. She tried once more, but again failed. On the fourth arduous attempt, she launched herself upright with enough force to achieve verticality. Her own legs felt like stilts splinted to her body. Unable to find her balance, she succumbed to the weight of the world around her. The world spun as she began to fall. Twilight hoped the silken mattress would catch her; she only found the unforgiving touch of the hard wood floor. After her collapse, the girl’s head was once again sent reeling. Despite lying still on the floor, the world spun blindly like a centrifuge around her. As the spinning began to slow, a fist began pounding on the wall beside her. “Twilight?” her brother call from an adjacent room, “Twilight, is that you?” Her voice pleaded for mercy. “Spike… I… I can’t move. I can’t…” Another series of rapping on the wall. “Don’t move. We’ll find help. Just don’t hurt yourself.” It was too late for that now, wasn’t it? “How badly are you hurt?” Twilight’s legs began to feel faint and invalid, like that part of her was fading from existence. She knew was too weak to attempt standing again. She dragged herself towards the sound of his voice, propping herself up against the wall between them. “I can… barely feel anything.” Spike turned his back against the wall. The back of his head thumped against the barrier between them. “They scuffed me up a bit too, but I’m alive. That’s more than I thought about you when they dragged you out of that room. I’m… I’m just glad you’re okay.” But he was wrong. Twilight was far from ‘okay’, and she knew it. The rain began to rattle the window as Spike continued to speak. “We’ll get through this. We’ll break out of here, and make a run for it through the trees. Or maybe someone’s coming to rescue us. Cell knows we’re out here, so she’s sure to come for us, right?” But the boy’s optimism fell hollow in her ears. Twilight, slouched over her own broken body in an unlit room hundreds of miles from her home, was forced to accept the grim reality: she was a failure. Sledge had given the orders to the wrong person. For all the emotions suppressed, the words left unspoken, and the attempts to be strong, none of it came manifest. Sledge’s last words, his last testament in life, were said for nothing. She now knew. Twilight was anything but strong. She can’t even stand on her own two feet, failing to accomplish what even an infant can. Her body was frail, spent, and senseless, and now simply waiting for the inevitable grace of death. And what would her legacy be? She was never anything more than a student, a pedantic hermit who slept in libraries and had no friends. She was little more than an encyclopedia with legs. Legs that were now as useless as she was. Cell had chosen wrong. Cell was a teacher whose efforts and lessons had been wasted on this sad excuse for a pupil. Someone else, anyone else, should have been chosen for such an esteemed opportunity. Had anyone else been Cell’s student, they would have been chosen for this mission. They wouldn’t have run from the fight. They wouldn’t cry in the face of despair. They wouldn’t be stupefied by doubt and betrayal. That person would have succeeded… where Twilight had inevitably failed. This was the inevitable outcome, culminated by her own failures and weakness. This was the fate Cell spoke of. Neither of them knew what to say next. Spike’s voice trembled like a child’s, “Twi, why are they doing this?” “Because they can.” Her cold, emotionless response did nothing to alleviate Spike’s fears. “W-what do you think they’ll do to us?” “Anything they want.” “Will they imprison us?” “Probably.” “Will… they torture us?” “Perhaps.” “Will they- would they…,” Spike struggled to force the words from his mouth, “kill us?” There was nothing she could say to him. There was no right answer to the question. She just looked at the handcuffs strapped around her chaffed wrist, and the enigmatic case attached to it. After a long, painful, contemplative silence, Twilight hesitantly answered, “I… I don’t know.” She had one job, one simple task: hold onto that case, no matter what. But she had failed. The cord that connected the two halves was completely severed, leaving only frayed edges of Kevlar. She stared at the lone cuff that clung to her wrist, its severed tail a reminder of what had once been there. Cell’s words rang in her memory once more, “you must keep it out of the wrong hands. You hold the most powerful element in your hand. Never let go of it.” Were there a noose hanging in front of her, Twilight would have gladly put her head through and ended her life of shame. The door of her room swung open, catching her off-guard. The menacing outlines of three guards entered, their full forms flashing only momentarily as they stepped through the shaft of light from the rain-covered window. They ordered her to stand. She could not. Spike pounded on the walls again, shouting words of protest and encouragement that she could not hear. When the Umbra guardsmen swarmed over her, gripping her arms and dragging her across the room, she did not fight back. As Twilight was dragged from the room, Manticore was waiting in the hallway for her. His expression was as cold as it always had been. His slate-grey eyes glistened as he glared at her. “Stand,” he ordered. Her legs refused to obey, seemingly too weak to move. “Stand!” he ordered once more. As his shout reverberated through the darkened room, her legs seemed to stand at attention out of reflex. Twilight remained unsteady, wobbling from side to side in her weakness, but her feet remained planted on the unsteady ground. Shouting and vulgarities erupted from the adjacent room as Spike was dragged out as well. The guards arrested his arms and neck with relative ease, but the boy continued to resist. With both siblings in his custody, Manticore nodded to his men, “Get them outside. It’s time.” A barrel of a gun jabbed into her back, compelling her to walk. One arduous step at a time, the group made their way through the darkened heart of the mansion. As they walked across the marble banister, the group could see the nightmare coming true. The mansion atrium was alive with the sounds of heavy bootsteps and heavier equipment. The curtains were drawn back slightly, only allowing an uttering of light to bleed through. Portraits and paintings that had once adorned the walls in their golden frames had gone missing. The fine glass-topped centerpiece table had been discarded and replaced by imposing rows of industrial folding tables. Additional teams of guardsmen were preparing for war, cocking their weapons and checking each others’ gear. Technical specialists, men and women who were young enough to have been trained in the Institute, weaved through the layers of electrical wiring that cobwebbed over the marble floor. As the group descended the stairs, rows of computer screens flickered to life in a cascade of scattered LED lights. Cheers broke out between some of the techs and soldiers; team leaders were quick to shout them out, and order them to get to work. The large entrance doors stood before them. As they opened, the darkness retreated to the sight of the dark grey skies. Twilight shuddered as the warmth in her veins was flushed out by the winter chill. Her lungs filled with air, cold and wet from the falling rain. The overcast sky obscured the current time, and the only proof that the sun was still there was the scattering of light that seemed to grow darker with each passing moment. Standing placidly at the top of the manor’s stone staircase was someone whom Twilight had expected. With a guard holding an umbrella over her head, Midnight stared contentedly into the downpour. She didn’t turn as she heard them approach. “It is fitting that a storm should roll in today. The clouds have blocked the sun, the fog of war sweeps over the field, and the rain wets the fertile soil. Soon, thunder will roll and the lightning will strike, cleaving through the old foliage and burning what remains. And when that is done, we shall wash our hands clean of blood, and plant the seeds of the Network’s future. The earth understands how fortuitous today is for us all.” She turned with deliberate ease, revealing the massive scar on her neck. “Manticore, I trust your men will transfer these two and their gift without difficulty. Have them taken back to the Keep. Put her in confinement with our other guest, but do no more. Not a finger shall be laid upon her, do you understand? I will interrogate her personally, or you all shall take her place.” The head guardsman grunted in acceptance. The other guards tightened their grips on their captives. As Midnight began to approach, Twilight shut her eyes and turned away from the woman’s lurid gaze. Her eyelids clenched shut to a painful degree. In a last act of desperation, she began to chant under hushed tones, “This isn’t real. This is a dream. All a dream. It’s all just one bad nightmare. I just need to wake up. Wake up, wake up… wake up-“ The woman chuckled deviously. “Foolish child. I assure you that this is indeed real. But if you still believe this is such a dream, then it will be a nightmare you won’t soon wake from.” Midnight began to walk back inside, but stopped at the foot of the door, mulling through her statements once more. “Hmm, Nightmare,” she pondered aloud, “I rather like that.” Then she returned to the darkened manor, Manticore following close behind. Against their will, Spike and Twilight began the march down the stone staircase. Waiting at the bottom was a pearl-black SUV. The four guards maintained their arrested grip on their captives. As the rain sunk into their clothes, the air around them grew colder. They crumbled with every step they took, their feet seeming to sink into the stone underfoot. The blackened chariot stood waiting for them. It was the long walk to the inevitable end. The rain-slicked stone caused Twilight’s wobbling legs to lose their balance. Slipping through the fingers of one of the guards, her back fell against the jutting staircase. She shrieked in pain as her body splayed flat against the stone stairs. The downpour continued obliviously to her pain, seeping into her clothes and pelting her exposed face. Towering over her, the guards ordered her to stand. Twilight tried, but her legs once again failed. The black figures shouted again, but Spike shouted back to little avail. The girl tried to rise once more, but lost her footing and fell back. Pain shot through her once again, and her limp body sluggishly rolled downwards, dragged down by the weight of the case and her water-logged clothes. The clear pools of rainwater mixed with a red stream of blood. The guards shouted once more. Spike had turned a furious red as he watched from the side. He tugged and tussled against his captors, shouting out his sister’s name, his longing voice a cocktail of pain and desperate anger. Hell itself seemed to boil in his belly and a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He thrashed violently with unmatched energy and strength, slipping an arm free from the guard’s wet grasp. His elbow swung to the side, bashing the guard beside him with an audible crack, before punching the second guard in the groin. The other guards joined the fray, and Spike was raging for the fight. He let out the roar of a caged animal as he tossed several haymaker punches, connecting one and sending the guard stumbling backwards. One man attempted to restrain his arm from the side, but a vicious head-butt forced him to clutch his face in pain. Spike saw his opportunity, and lunged for the pistol in his holster. He drew the gun in a flash, but his aim was offset by the struggle that ensued. A couple errant shots were fired into the clouds as one guard managed to restrain the pistol. Spike attempted to fight him off, but the others soon joined in to subdue the frenzied boy. As the battle overwhelmed him, Spike shouted to her. “Twilight! Sarah!” he said, “You have to get up! Please, get up!” Even dazed and battered, lying in the downpour on a puddle of rain and blood, far from the stable comforts of home, Twilight recognized that voice. She remembered that day. They were just children, a girl aged twelve and a boy aged six. However, the Institute saw things differently. When Twilight accepted the offer she could not afford to refuse, Cell demanded no distractions from her pupil. A kitchen timer was set: the siblings were given ten minutes to say goodbye. But when the time came, they held each other as tightly as they could. And as their clasped hands were separated, the young boy’s tear-reddened eyes and fearful wails were burned into Twilight’s memory. And as he cried for her, he used that voice. Her hands were pale, wrinkled, and numb, but used them to push herself forward. Her legs still felt foreign to her, but they found the strength to stand. And while her mind was still reeling from the fall, she could still read the expression on his grave expression on his face. “Run,” it implored to her, “Run.” Twilight had no choice. Clutching the heavy case in her hand, she turned her back and clambered down the stone staircase as Spike was finally subdued by the group of four guards. As their uniformed body overwhelmed him, beating him senseless in their violence, she had made it to the waiting SUV. Her hands struggled with the driver’s side door, but it refused to give: locked. The manor’s front door burst open with guards, spurred by the commotion outside, and Twilight once again took to her feet. She ran across the crescent-shaped courtyard as quickly as her shaking legs could take her. Passing the high stone walls and the iron gate, Twilight began her escape. She didn’t have a choice but to cut through the forest. The openness of the winding road collapsed into narrow thickets of dead trees. The downpour was shielded by the twisted branches, but the dirt had become slick and edged with jagged rocks. The fog grew thicker and thicker as she went further and further, until the world beyond her reach was nothing more than a haze of grey. Her body was reinforced with a burst of adrenal energy, but quickly navigating the perilous trek was as physically demanding as much as it was mentally stressful. As came upon a small stream of water flowing down the mountain, Twilight began to slow down. How long had she been running? She couldn’t fathom a guess, nor did it matter to her. Gasping for air, she hoped to take a rest before continuing on: her lungs burned under the strain and the rapid intake of frigid air; her legs were trembling uncontrollably from the cold, stress, and adrenaline; she struggled to keep her balance. But the series of heartless shouts in the distance behind her persuaded her otherwise. Following the stream, Twilight hoped to find a safe haven, a cave or a hollow she could hide away in. She fought to keep running. Suddenly, her feet slip. Her misstep sends her falling forwards, careening down the slope of the mountain. Her body impacts on the fresh dirt, but continues it to pick up speed. She tries to shield herself, but she still remains vulnerable. Dead leaves crunch beneath her as dirt and mud flies into her face and wounds. Rocks scratch at her arms and clothes. Loose tree branches crash against her arms and legs. The nebulous forest rockets past her at a break-neck speed. After one last impact with the base of a tree, Twilight’s body strikes pavement as she tumbles helplessly onto a section of road. A pair of lights gleam through the fog, and are approaching fast. Too fast to stop. The woman can’t move out of the way fast enough. She can’t move at all. As the rumbling engine drives closer and closer, Twilight curled her body tightly, shut her eyes, and hoped it will be over quickly. The tires screech, and the car stops. Twilight opens her eyes, and fears for the worst. She tried to scramble to her feet as two imposing silhouettes exited the car. “Hey,” the first woman called, “’t’s her.” “She’s not looking so great, Jack.” The second woman’s voice cut like a rasp. The first woman rushed over to the hurt girl, still lying limp in the middle of the fog-basked road. Her imposing grasp found Twilight’s right hand, unaware of the fresh cuts on her open palm. The woman’s bulky figure begins to pull Twilight to her feet. Rain drips from the brim of her hat. “Miss, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar Southern accent rang in her speech. “The name’s Applejack. We’re here to-“ The unknown woman aroused a sharp pain in Twilight’s hand, and Twilight answered in kind. As her feet met the ground, her left hand formed a tight fist. She let out a menacing shout, using her remaining strength to deliver a single powerful blow. It smashed the woman on the side of the head with a dull thud, knocking her back to the ground a few feet away. The hat flew a few feet further. Without a second thought, Twilight continued her escape. “Dash,” Applejack cried out between groans, “git after her!” “I’m on it!” the second woman replied before bolting into the woods. Twilight could hear the chase catching up with her. Where the Umbra guards’ shouts felt distant in the fog, the woman’s calls were alarmingly close. The sound of gnashing leaves grew closer and closer behind her, followed by demands to stop and surrender. “Hey! Come back here!” the voice shouted behind her, “If you keep running, you’ll only be tired when I catch you.” Twilight ignored both cues. Even as her lungs burned, practically begging for mercy, she pushed herself further and faster into the woods. She had to escape. She had to- “Gotcha!” Twilight was tackled from behind, sending her face-first into the wet dirt. Mud seeped into her eyes, nose, and mouth as her face slid through the earthy soil. She turned onto her back, wiping her eyes as her pursuer climbed over her. “Uh, ‘scure me?” the aggressor said. With her legs straddling Twilight’s gut and her full weight pressing down, the thin woman fought to restrain her target. The worn out Twilight fought back with a few reactionary punches, but that only served to aggravate her. “Ach- What the hey is your problem?” she shouted, deflecting the flailing arms of the girl beneath her, “Relax, we’re here to-” Twilight grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it towards the woman’s face. As the dark brown sludge dribbled down her multicolored hair, Dash’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I said chill out!” Her balled fist struck the terrified girl across the face. Twilight’s eyes shut and her body fell limp. The woman sat back with a sigh of relief. “There. That’s more like it.” The descent down the side of the mountain to the next switchback was task easily accomplished by Rainbow Dash. As a hunter well-accustomed to the snow-ridden mountains back home, hauling the unconscious girl across the wet, jagged terrain was as enjoyable as the thrill of their downhill race together. If she had the opportunity, she’d do it all over again. And blindfolded. But for now, she relished in her victory. With her rifle slung over one shoulder and her prize slung over the other, the athlete waited patiently as the familiar set of headlights shined through the fog and down the road. With a signaled flash from the flashlight on her vest, the orange truck pulled off the road and alongside her. Applejack got out of the car to help open the rear door. As Dash placed Twilight delicately into the cabin, Applejack noticed how lifeless their guest was. “You knocked her out?” she said with an ounce of disbelief, “What the hey were you thinkin’, Dash?” “Hey, she wasn’t cooperating, so I had to. Besides, I asked nicely first.” “Yeah? And just what’d you say to get her all riled up?” Dash had to think about that one. “Uh… ‘ ‘scuse me’?” The blonde woman shook her head, shifting her hat ever so slightly to hide her disappointment. “Well, we’d best get going. Rarity should be done sweeping the site by now. I reckon she’d want to hear about this.”