I awoke earlier than usual the next day, I could hear the twins still sleeping in their rooms across the hall. All three of us had been exhausted for different reasons, and I couldn't safely say mine were any better than theirs. The one perk of my line of work was that I didn't have to clean walls off with rubbing alcohol in an effort to kill the bacteria growing all over them.
I checked the fridge again before I remembered there was nothing inside. In fact, there was nothing to eat in the whole house, we still hadn't had time to buy groceries. We didn't even have a toaster, how was I going to eat my customary burnt piece of toast with no jam?
Come to think of it, I could buy my own jam now couldn't I? I had tried to earlier but my mom had insisted that I would never eat all of it myself before it went bad, so it was a waste. I could just eat my toast plain, right? Why was my mom still trying to control my life? Well, with her half a country away, I could buy as much jam as I wanted and there was nothing she could do to stop me.
I left the house dejected and hungry, resolving to get something to eat after I dealt with number-21. We still didn't know what his name was, despite him being in custody for so long, because he refused to speak to anypony. The guards had reported that he just mumbled to himself, and no family members had come looking. There weren't even missing-ponies reports filed which matched his description, it was like he didn't exist.
Today, I wore a long overcoat which conveniently hid my sword, strapped to my back in its sheath. It wasn't cool out at all, I began overheating almost as soon as I put the coat on, the sweat sticking to the inside of the coat and making the entire affair of flying to the guard station far more draining than it had to be.
There were several guard stations in Los Pegasus, and the one number-21 had been kept at was fairly close to the mental hospital, mostly for expediency. I will admit, I wasn't in any particular hurry to get to him and deal with his infection, and I know that if Celestia knew that I'd never hear the end of it. It was just - well, he's a bad pony. It sounds simplistic to say it like that, but what else can I say? He was caught in a school having broken in to the colt's locker room, his motives were pretty obvious. He deserved what he got, in my opinion, as horrible as that sounded. Perhaps my sympathy was taxed simply because of a previous encounter I had had, but in any case I did not worry too much about what state he was in.
The guard station was a bland and boring building, almost entirely gray, just like every other building in this town. Perhaps this was on purpose, perhaps Celestia had instituted some secret policy to make every government-owned building in the entire country as boring and unpleasant as possible, to ward off potential comers. After all, if you overtax somepony, they may consider dealing with the staff and building not worth the hassle of getting a refund.
The desk sergeant was waiting for me when I got inside, my letter instructing them to be on the lookout for a discreet pink Pegasus. By waiting for me, I meant that he didn't notice me at all, as there were no doubt quite a few discreet pink Pegasi around, I could see another one milling outside. Fortunately I had also arranged for a password.
"Yes, is there something I can do for you miss?" the desk sergeant asked, looking bored. I noticed he wasn't wearing his helmet, in fact, none of the guard ponies were. There was a guard taking a disposition from a blue Pegasus who wore his armor suit but no helmet, there was another guard hauling in somepony who appeared to be unconscious, also wearing no helmet, and the carving of Princess Celestia that sat above the building's entrance also had no helmet on. This whole place was so unprofessional.
"Sunflank should brush her teeth more," I said softly to the desk sergeant, who took a moment to realize that was the top secret password. I hadn't told Celestia I had changed it.
"Right this way," he said, motioning at another guard to cover the desk. He escorted me into the hallway that led further into the station, past rows of desks and filing cabinets where the guards stored the myriad paperwork necessary to dispense justice around the town. A couple of mare guards were chatting with one another, as we passed, they saw me and hushed up. One of them whispered, "Princess" to the other, they both had a look of awe on their faces. Glad to see somepony recognized me.
Past the offices were a set of what looked like change rooms, except they were obviously re-purposed jail cells, I could see the pipes still hanging out of the walls. Nopony had bothered to fix them up even a little, they just pulled the bars off and called it a change room. There were no helmets in the equipment cages there, I started to wonder if Los Pegasus hadn't budgeted for its guards to have headgear at all.
Lastly, in the back of the station were rows and rows of jail cells proper. According to my mom, most of the real dangerous ponies were held at separate penitentiary facilities outside of the major cities, while these cells were mostly for overnight stays. The stench coming out of them confirmed that, these were what mom had always called "drunk tanks". Most of the ponies in them were still asleep, a few groaned as we passed. The cells were filthy, though whether due to neglect or their occupants was hard to determine.
Tucked in the back, at the far end of the hallway, was a sign reading: "Warning, no unauthorized personnel beyond this point", accompanied by a small doorway. The sergeant took out a key from somewhere in his armor suit and unlocked the little door, holding it open for me and letting me through. It shut with a neat 'click' behind me as I stood in what must have been the high-threat wing. These certainly weren't drunk tanks.
There were two cells that looked like the others, except there was thick glass in the front, not bars. The doors to these cells were sliding doors, and both were empty. There were two guard ponies in here as well, both had their attention focused on a small doorway next to the other cells.
It looked like an entrance to a racquetball court, complete with a narrow slit covered in glass. I was still not fully grown yet, and even I would have to duck my head to get inside, the door was so small. It was also made entirely of steel, and reinforced by bolts all around it. The two guards stood at attention as I walked over to them.
"Is this number 21?" I asked them. I couldn't tell what the symbols on their armor meant, I thought they had something to do with rank but I've never paid attention to exactly what. In any case, the guard with more symbols answered my question.
"Yes, this is him. Padded room, triple reinforced," he said, stepping nervously in place. I could see what looked like a few scratches on his leg, and a section of the gold trim on his armor looked dented. By teeth marks.
"Been able to get anything out of him?" I asked, trying to see through the narrow slit in the door. It was too small, I couldn't get a good look, but I thought I could make something out on the other side, sitting against the far wall.
"Nothing, ma'am. Just mutters to himself. Don't get too close," he said, trying to warn me.
"All right, open it up," I said. The two guards exchanged a look and moved to undo the lock on the door. I dropped my coat off, revealing the scabbard on my back as I let the magic of the invisibility spell on my horn fade. The guards did not seem to be reassured by the display.
I stepped into the cell and the guards closed it behind me. I could see one of their eyes through the slit on the doorway, watching me for any sign of trouble.
The padding in the room was made of some white fabric I couldn't place, it was soft, softer than a cloud. It had to be, for, sitting opposite me on his rump, was a brown pony with a rough black mane, rocking back and forth on his hind legs. He wore a straight-jacket, binding his forelegs together and making it difficult for him to move at anything faster than a walk. He didn't look up at me as I had entered, he was muttering something to himself I couldn't quite hear. It repeated, over and over.
"Mister 21?" I asked. I doubted he'd recognize that name, since it wasn't his, but what else was I going to call him?
There was no response. He was still muttering something. I took a step forward and tried again. "Mister 21? Can you hear me?"
After a few steps, he suddenly noticed me and snapped his head upwards. His eyes took a second to focus on me. "Stay back!" he snapped. I didn't move, towards or away, I held stock still.
He kept his eyes focused on me for a few seconds, struggling to decide if I was real or not. Then, he snapped his head to look at something off to his right, shouting, "I said, stay back! Back!"
He tried to push himself away from whatever it was that was scaring him, there was nothing other than me in the room, at least to me. The push caused him to fall over onto his back, and he rolled over and held his face down into the padded floor. I could hear him muttering more clearly now, something like, "not real not real not real not real".
He snapped his head to look at me again, still standing stock still in the room. He wasn't angry, just afraid, though I doubted I could do anything to help him at this point. There wasn't much left to save. He held his stare on me for much longer this time, breathing slowly, pacing himself. After a moment, he put his head back onto the floor and stayed silent.
The time had come. I concentrated, closed my eyes, and let the magic that was my unique talent, my unique burden, come and bring me a sight beyond sight. As was so often the case, the other realm was muted, hushed, dark, all around the victim of an attack. The strands that bound beings together across time and space avoided those who had been afflicted on purpose, to keep themselves from being affected as well. It was pure self defense, but it made the world cold and lonely in the last moments of one suffering such as patient-21.
I could see the strands that extended out from him, there were many, yet they had all been severed. Purposefully, by him. Perhaps as his final act of sanity, he had cut the bonds to his loved ones to spare them the pain of dealing with his fate. Perhaps I had been wrong about him.
The black corruption had taken most of the light that burned within, he was far too far gone to save. I could see it pulsing and gnawing over him, but once again, it was not progressing, just like those I had seen at the mental hospital. Instead, the tar was only reacting to his attempts to fight it, squelching his resistance. Torture. It would not allow him to die, it just kept him in great pain and fear.
As I prepared myself to do my work, the ball of light, weak as it was, did something I had never experienced before. It made a request, tugging at my psyche, asking me to do something. The light doesn't speak directly, it speaks in feeling, emotions. This request was complex, it took me a moment to understand it, as emotions are meant to be simple and easy. My mind pieced together the request, slowly, as the light waited patiently despite its suffering. Listen.
Listen? To what? I asked back.
The light extended a strand out and brought it very close to my head. There was no black tar on this strand, and each time the tar moved to overtake it, the light focused itself and fought it off. Please.
We were on our way home after a hard day at the fruit packing plant. We had decided to take our usual shortcut past that big flight school in the yards. Our wings hurt, we had been working every day for the past month, it was so tiring we wished we wouldn't have to work ever again, but, there were others counting on us. We would work ourselves until we dropped, for them.
We were passing by one of the lower parts of the building when we heard something. It was soft, but it was there. We stopped, and listened. The night was cold, very quiet. The stars were out in full, beaming down on us as we strained to hear the sound. It came again. "Help!".
It was so soft, we could not be sure it was real, but it was coming from somewhere inside the school. We looked around, the still night was dead silent, nopony else was nearby. There was no time, we started to run, first to the nearby door, then, finding it locked, to another side door. The school must still be out on holiday, we thought, the doors must all be locked.
Never mind that, we looked up and saw some windows on the very top of the small building. We lifted off, flying up next to the windows and trying to peer in, only to see darkness on the other side. We were sure there was somepony inside calling for help, what do we do now?
We smashed the window in front of us, slicing up our foreleg with fallen shards of glass. We ignored the pain and darted inside the building, only lit by dim moonlight. We seemed to be in a classroom, though one for foals or not, we did not care. We nearly landed atop one of the desks before we realized it was unstable and landed next to it, having confused it for the floor in the darkness. We saw there was another door. "Help!" came the cry again.
We tried to open the inside door, but the bottom was locked. We started to panic before we realized the top half of the door was open, some custodian having forgotten to lock it. We opened the top half and jumped over, looking around. The cry was coming from somewhere to our left, though the building was shrouded in darkness. There was a skylight somewhere, barely enough to see with. We looked around quickly before setting off down the hallway.
"Hello?" we said, our voice deep and thick, with an Latin accent. Spanish? Italian?
No response, the building was still quiet. We stopped in a bright spot, near the skylight, and waited, hoping to hear the cry come again.
The cry did not come. We waited for another minute, perhaps our mind was playing tricks on us. We were about to turn and leave when we heard a sound, a long, slow creaking sound as the basement door slowly turned on its hinges. We turned to see its silhouette, barely visible. Somepony was breathing down there, we could hear them as the door opened.
"Are you okay? Who are you?" we called out into the open basement door. No response came back. A chill ran down our spine, the atmosphere thickened, became heavy around us. A deep feeling in our gut told us to run, get away from here. We did not care, somepony needed our help.
Though we could not see even a hoof in front of our face, we boldly stepped into the basement, down the small flight of stairs. The only light down here was a very soft orange glow coming from what looked like a furnace in the corner. We turned to see it, though there was something in the way. Piping. Pipes ran all over the room, some low, some high, they ran all across and formed a maze. We started climbing over them.
"Hello? Are you hurt? Please answer me!" we called. This time, something responded. It giggled.
Softly, quietly, there was a gentle giggle coming from the far corner, far from the light of the furnace. We turned, but the darkness was total. We could see nothing. The giggling continued.
"We need to get out of here, come, follow me," we said. The giggling continued, and slowly, it increased in volume. Before it was one little, gentle giggle, now it rose to a slow, merciless laugh. We began to sweat. We were afraid. We looked back towards the stairway and we could not find it, lost in the darkness. The laughter grew in volume, and in voice.
The laughter was now coming from all corners of the room. We backed towards the furnace, the soft light barely enough to show what was in front of it. As we did, the laughter noticed, it began to get closer, louder. It was not a laugh now, it was a howl of hilarity, screaming at incredible volume. It swirled all around us, there were now so many laughing at us that we could not keep track of where it was coming from, it was coming from all around. We panicked, we ran, we did not care where. We hit a pipe, we think. We fell over, and the hyenas of the darkness swarmed over us. We felt something close over us, we -
We?
We were no more.
I snapped out of my trance and backed away instinctively, the light was gone. It was all dark mud now. I lost my other sight and opened my real eyes in time to see him, patient-21 standing eye to eye with me.
"STOP LAUGHING AT ME" he howled and screamed, charging at me from only a step away. My hooves reacted before my brain could catch up, I unsheathed my sword and plunged it into his chest in one smooth motion. I had not even realized what I had done before it was over, his body went limp and he slumped back, sliding off my sword as I relaxed it. Blood poured out of his chest, I saw it forming at his mouth.
I threw my sword to the side and sat down next to him, holding his head in my hooves. I could see there was not much time left for him.
"Please, tell me your name," I begged, trying to keep myself from choking.
"Gah – Gazzo, Trivedi," he said. He stopped. His eyes bulged as he coughed, sending blood all over himself. He was gone. I laid his head back down on the floor and closed his eyes, holding my hoof over them for a moment.
The guards had finally managed to get the cell door open by the time I had collected my sword and attempted to clean it off.
"Are you all right Princess?" one said as he burst into the room. His partner, just behind him, began examining the body on the floor.
"Gazzo Trivedi..." I said. I looked at the bigger of the two guards. I would not let tears come, I wouldn't let myself choke, I had to be strong. "Run a check on the name, probably an immigrant. Used to work really long hours at a fruit packing plant."
The guard nodded. "Yes ma'am, we'll get right on it," he said. I turned to leave.
"Let me know what you find as soon as you find it. And," I said, stopping and turning back to see Gazzo's body as the guard stared at it, "don't tell his family."
It was not until I had left the guard station that I allowed myself to cry. I knew there was nothing wrong with it, that it was not a display of weakness, yet a leader must still never cry in front of her followers. I found a back alley that seemed secluded and let my tears bond with the clouds beneath, pitying myself for being so weak, so stupid. Gazzo was among the finest ponies I had never met, a true hero who paid for his goodness with his sanity and eventually, his life. I hadn't cared about him, I had thought he was a pedophile, I had misjudged him so harshly that it was a stain I could never wash off.
I would tell Celestia to find his family, his relatives, friends, whoever it had been he was sacrificing himself for, and to take care of them. I wanted to tell them myself that Gazzo was the picture of courage and selflessness, I wanted them to know he had spent his final moments of sanity thinking of them. I wanted them to know that his courage had saved so many others, that he had told me, at great cost, what I needed to know. The basement of that building, that was the focal
point. I had to stop anypony else from going down there. I had to clean it out.