Equestria: Infinite (Bioshock)

by ThatMrSomeGuy

1. The Colt and the Debt

“Booker? Are you afraid of God?”
“No. But I’m afraid of you.”

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power. -Abraham Lincoln

The boat rocked as it carried across the tides of the ocean. The members of the vessel consisted of three equine figures, a male and female earth pony and a stallion unicorn. The rowing hornless pony fought against the tides of the sea. He seemed to not even place any sign of struggle in his tone. He was idly chatting with the mare.
Both earth ponies spoke in a Canterlotian accent. The mare had a purple coat and green mane. The stallion had a white coat with light blue mane.
As for the unicorn, he remained silent. He was lost in thought. The words kept ringing in his head. Bring us the mare. Wipe away the debt.
That concentration broke when the mare turned around and handed him an object. It was a wooden box with a metallic engraving with the name of the owner:

The box had been made for him. Booker asked, “What’s this?” The mare had already turned her head faced forward and continued talking to the rower as if the passenger never existed.
Knowing he wont get his answer from her, Booker looked at the mysterious present. His horn glowed a light brown and he released the latch that kept the box sealed. Carefully, Booker slowly opened the lid. He examined the box’s many contents: a key, paper, coins, and most distinguishably, a gun.
A magazine pistol, or any firearm for that matter, was illegal to Equestrian citizens. They have been banned since EE (Equestrian Era) 65, the end of the Equestrian Civil War. Firearms now are only needed in the most desperate of measures.
Equestria wasn’t very large. Its borders have not yet spanned to the old monarch kingdoms across the West. They still haven’t settled their differences and, supposedly, still inhabited wendigos.
Furthermore, Booker was in debt. He realized these contents were for his mission. The gun emphasized the importance of Booker’s objective. He mustn’t fail. It was his last chance. With that on Booker’s mind, he chambered the first bullet and placed the pistol in his coat pocket.
One piece of paper in the box was a photo of a unicorn mare. She was dressed in early Equestrian clothing. Booker flipped the photo on its backside. There was a note written:

After examining the rest of the box, Booker realized that the remaining contents were cryptic. Nevertheless, he individually placed the items in the rest of his pockets in case they would serve later purpose. He then lowered the now useless box on the boat’s floor.
Their destination emerged from the hazy distance of the pouring rainwater. Booker was to be briefed in the building the two ponies take him. The roaring waves were attempting to blanket the island. The building seemed so ominous and… unnecessary. Booker felt like this was some kind of misunderstanding.
Thoughts started pouring in Booker’s head. None of this added up. What purpose would a lighthouse need for this mission? Why do I need a gun if she’s in here? Why do I even need a gun? What is so important about this mare?
At that moment Booker thought about the severity of his debt. It seemed too unlikely for him to find her on this spec of land.

Fine, Booker thought. I’ll play their little game.

The unicorn was so lost in thought that he had just realized that he was already on the dock and trotting towards the building. He saw his transportation was heading back to Mane.
“Hey! Is somepony meeting me here?”
“I certainly hope so”, the rower responded.
The mare added, “It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded”.
Booker shrugged it off. They were a useless source for answers.

He felt more and more misplaced as he steadily paced towards the door and kept his eyes glued to the towering lighthouse. The door had a bloodstained sheet of paper with a note. The message assured Booker he was in the right place:

Booker pounded on the door. Without even waiting for a response, he slowly clopped into the lighthouse. He shouted to the darkness of the spiraling staircase. “Excuse me. It’s Booker DeWitt. I guess you’re expecting me?”
The unresponsive echo alone was enough to assure Booker that the place was abandoned. Wait. Booker perked his ears up. Is that…music? In the center of the room, a framed sewed message lay above a metal tray of water:

Booker stepped forward and took a good hard look at his reflection in the water. His black mane was a very standard medium length. His coat was a light brown. His clothes were somewhat sloppy. He tilted his head upward to look again at the message. “Good luck with that pal”.
Equestria had been fundamentally a monotheistic nation. It was a complex religion. A single God was the creator of all life and, more importantly, sustained that life through the daily cycles of the sun and moon.
Booker proceeded to the staircase and saw a similar religious message:

Booker silently observed until he made his way to the second floor. Sodom. Sodom. Where have I heard that name?
Booker noted the substances of the more home-like second floor. It had a desk. On the wall adjacent to that desk was a map with a line that headed to mid-western Equestria and back. It’s probably just some railroad track. The source of the faint music was a radio. It had played a tune to which Booker wasn’t familiar with. He was never really fond of music. Booker also observed the many household appliances. This is where the lighthouse pony must live. It was a simplistic bedroom, but everything was scattered on the floor. The place almost looks like somepony had already b-.
Booker galloped to the third floor, ignoring the next religious text at the stairwell. Sure enough, Booker’s instinct had been true. In front of him sat a corpse. It was fresh and its body and head have been covered. This was a murder. On the pony’s chest was another bloody paper:

These ponies meant serious business. Homicide was somewhat rare in Equestria. Booker wasn’t new to death though. This isn’t that bad considering what I’ve seen before this. He decided to cast that thought aside before he dove into his past. What did I get myself into?
He looked around the rest of the room: blood, instruments probably used for torturing the poor fellow, nothing else out of the ordinary. The storm can be easily heard from here. Booker looked at the final set of stairs leading to the top floor. Something or somepony was expecting him there. Better not keep them waiting. He crossed the final sewn text:

The storm died down by the time Booker got to the top. He turned his head to see that there were three bells with a different symbol on each of them: a large cloud with a lightning symbol in it, a four-leaved clover, and what appeared to be a cookie. The unicorn remembered that one of the items in the box bear the same symbols next to them. He pulled it out and sure enough, the icons matched. Next to each was a number. Booker telepathically rang each bell the number of times the paper said. At first, nothing happened. All of a sudden, the floor shook to a blaring horn-like sound, followed by another two in a higher tone, and finally, two more in a tone in-between the previous two.
Booker was astonished. Perhaps it was some kind of hallucination of heaven responding to the metallic ring of the bells, but it all felt too real. Before the unicorn could think about what had happened, his attention changed to the gadgets roaring to life at the window with the bells. He quickly noticed the statue behind the bells. The face belonged to an important Equestrian figure, Clover the Clever, one of the founding mothers. Something’s wrong about her. And there was. Attached to Clover’s body was a pair of wings. She was depicted as the mythical Alicorn. Only God was portrayed as an Alicorn.
The chiming stopped, and the window lowered to the floor. The inside of the lighthouse didn’t contain a light to beam on the ocean, instead, a chair. Booker knew what they wanted. Whoever killed the pony downstairs also wanted Booker to ring the bells and sit in that very chair. Just do what they want Booker. It’ll all be over soon. He sighed and sat in the chair.

Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank. “What the-“.

Metal rings clipped around all four of Booker’s hooves. He was trapped. A voice was talking, but it was so faint through the roaring of the turning gears. The chair spun and walls started to emerge from the floor. The chair tilted downward. Booker’s felt something in his pocket slip.
The pistol fell on the floor. It wasn’t secure in a holster. “Aw buck.”
The floor starting gushing out loads of fire. The seat tilted back up. Booker turned his head and tried to see if there was any possible last-minute escape. “Nonononononono-“.
Booker was now able to tell what the voice was saying. He was just too awestruck to care.
“Ascension in the count of five-”
“Nononono-“
“The count of four-“
“Nonono-“
“Three”
“Nonono-“
“Two”
“No. “ Booker sighed in defeat.
“One.”