Chapter 4: Born Equestrian
“Chase the survivor," the man said from behind his gun barrel, “and quest.” Bennett straightened his posture and wiped his head and shoulders free of glass shards. Chase determined to stay silent. Even though the thought of ending up a hostage filled him with fear, it could be they only way out of here alive.
Bennett decided to answer: “I’m Nicholas Bennett, East Coast Border Intelligence.” The gunman’s eyebrows arched a little. It took him a moment to recollect, but his expression soon reverted back to neutral.
“Interesting. I recall there was a commander called Bennett in ECBI, but he had quit a year after the opening of the first Bureau. You wouldn’t be him, would you?” His voice was very calm, soothing even, but what distracted Chase even more was his haircut: blond and short, almost exactly like his own mane. Bennett nodded, and the gunman flashed a brief smile.
“You’ve pissed off the wrong people, pony.” Chase gasped, as the gunman was again aiming directly at his face. “And you, commander, do you recognize this gun?” he turned to Bennett and – an action that filled Chase with a confusion more massive than the Sun and Moon combined – stepped forward and handed the weapon to Bennett. These two... They were friends? Companions? Was this a rescue of a rescue or just the second half of an elaborate plan? Chase’s mind was blown away.
To further bemusement, the newly unarmed gunman started laughing. It sounded and looked like a genuine, fun laugh. Chase noticed Bennett was smiling as well, though his eyes were fixed on the bulky handgun. What the hay was wrong with these two!?
“Oh boy, we’re still totally screwed, my friend.” The two men straightened their faces almost simultaneously, but Chase was still none the wiser.
“W-what? We? How?” Chase chose not to go on, for his rampant thoughts didn’t quite make decent enough sentences at the moment. He started to wish for the feds to make the next intervention. At least, they were somewhat logical.
“Chase, take look at this," said Bennett and showed him the handle-end of the gun. Chase didn’t see anything special in it. It was a handle for a rather big human hand to grip. “Electronic triggers have been the standard in corporate firearms since the beginning. Although, I have the necessary implants in my fingers to operate a gun like this,” Bennett pointed the weapon ominously at the other man’s chest, but he didn’t even move a muscle, “it can be fired by his hands alone.”
The two men exchanged some specifications about the weapon, but Chase wasn’t paying attention. He stared at the floor and the glass shards covering it. He was hungry, stressed, and disappointed. Nothing went his way, so, the only thing left to do was to give up. Or to do the exact opposite.
The table lying on its side made an easy target for Chase. He bucked it hard enough for it to hit the unwary gunman, who briefly lost his balance. Chase made a run for it. He jumped over the table and galloped through the window frame to the monitor room. In the corner of his eye, he could already see the man getting up seemingly unhurt. Still, there wasn’t any instant death hazard, since Bennett had yet to give the gun back.
Chase circled the desk which revealed the rest of the room. His eyes, however, scoured the floor. There were two bodies: one was fed-clad and lying on its belly with its face against the floor; the other, wearing black utilityware, was the door guard Chase was looking for. More specifically, it was the guard’s key he needed.
He searched through the motionless man’s waist. The belt featured a flashlight, a gun in a holster, a small device with a yellow and black lightning symbol on it, but not anything resembling a key chain. Of course, the man had already taken it – what a hopeless attempt.
Chase turned his attention back to the other room, where Bennett and the gunman had engaged in a brawl. Even though Bennett still held the handgun while the other was unarmed, the latter seemed to have the advantage. He had little trouble parrying Bennett’s strikes which all were aimed at his head. After one such parry, he responded with a heavy blow into Bennett’s stomach. It was enough to bring the bespectacled commander to his knees.
The other man kicked the handgun away from Bennett’s hand and retrieved it. Chase closed his eyes: execution was something he couldn’t bear to watch.
The feds, the media, even Bennett had all been incapable of protecting him. Not that he’d blame them, since the mess was mostly his doing. There was nothing left to do, but to wait for the final pull of the “electronic” trigger.
Chase waited for a blast, but instead, he heard Bennett’s angry groan which prompted him to open his eyes again. The fed-clad man was standing behind a grimacing Bennett, holding a tiny injection needle by his throat. The killer was focused on the needle, paying no attention at Chase’s direction. Why didn’t he just finish him with the gun? Had he become... neat?
“W-what the hell?” Bennett uttered, stomach still quite hurt, when the man tossed the empty needle to the floor.
“It’s just Jared, nothing more.” Bennett’s grimace turned into a look of surprise, but he, his whole appearance, started to sink rapidly.
“Oh, fuck... Jared...” Thump. Bennett was down. It was now between the two of them – Chase and this monster.
“Help! Anyone help!” Chase prayed for the feds. Come on, it’s time to redeem your poor, incompetent flanks – just come here to save mine. Somepony, a fed, or a guard, or just anything, please, you had to hear this. The noisy tactic had at least one positive effect: Chase saw the killer’s expression visibly cringe for the first time. That gave him the energy to scream even louder: “The attacker is here!”
Nevertheless, it didn’t last long. Within several seconds, the man was pressing Chase against the door in the monitor room – with great force, but not doing any real damage. The left hand that held him didn’t feel like an ordinary human hand. It was colder and much harder.
“You’re a real pain, pony,” he said and drew another injection needle from his jacket pocket. Chase tried to kick it, or anything really, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough. He felt a pinch, and the cold liquid was already pouring into his veins.
The man took the needle out and shoved Chase aside. He drew his gun and opened the door with a quick sweep of a key. Chase could hear shouts from the hallway, then a few shots, but his senses were slowing down. Though a moment ago it probably was the last thing on his mind, now Chase wanted to sleep, and his body was making sure he would. The gunfight would certainly last for awhile. A quick nap wouldn’t hurt anypony.
***
Five o’clock meant it was getting dark. Getting the WWBC crew to leave the site had been a walk in the park. It was ridiculous how fast those vultures would try and seize every story opportunity. If they always acted like this, misleading them would be easy as hell. Fiona could have hinted them to go near anywhere in Chicago. Maybe they had some sort of system to separate the trustworthy claims from more obscure ones. Or maybe it was some reporter flair.
Fiona tried to center her thoughts to the ongoing matter. That crazy Bennett had made a real dick move ditching her here, but she had done what he had told her to do. Still, Fiona felt like a burden. This bullshit body felt like a burden. She figured there should be some instincts hard-coded into the equine body to help her adapt, but no, everything still felt as stupid as the first time.
The lot that used to be South State Conversion Bureau, was now all but deserted. There was a car or two in the car park, but Fiona was certain nobody had touched them for a few days, at least. On the far side of the lot stood a large trailer with light coming out of its windows. Another news crew or some investigation team?
Fiona didn’t want to go home. Something psyched her to help Chase, something that made the thought of abandoning the pony unpleasant, even terrifying. Was it Bennett’s gloomy opinion of her or a side-effect to the conversion? Fiona decided it was for the lack of better things to do. Yes, that was it. Bennett had ordered her to stay put, but every idle second felt very much wasted.
She had little idea where the federal establishment that held Chase was located at, but what Fiona could do, was finding a TV.
Fiona trotted around the blast site, which was encircled with white-and-blue police tape. She now understood why everyone was so agitated with the circumstances. The place was eerie: a spherical plot of ground was simply empty of everything but dirt and a few pipe openings. As if everything had just evaporated into thin air.
Bennett had probably mentioned some possible explanation during one of his monologues, but it didn’t really matter, as Fiona hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She knew that unicorn magic, or whatever it was, could create splendid, if a bit fake-looking, fireworks. Could it also cause something like this? An even crazier thought invaded her mind: could the killer have detonated a unicorn?
She continued towards the trailer. All the blinds were open, giving Fiona an unobstructed view inside. There were people there, or actually ponies, and they were watching TV. Ponies was good: they’d be more willing to let her inside than humans, or at least without any hidden agenda. On a few, rare occasions she’d heard some rather unsettling plans involving her neighbours and ponies. The walls in her apartment weren’t even thin, the neighbours had just been that loud.
She prepared to look as casual as possible and knocked on the door. A brief grunt came from inside immediately after. It was too faint to have been directed at her, but there was no way to guess what it meant. It sounded... alien, or ‘quite a shock’, as Bennett had put it.
The door handle turned and the door opened up revealing a purple unicorn mare. “Hello," Fiona began, “I’m Fiona, and I was wondering if, you’re so kind, I could watch your television for awhile. It’s important.” Better be straight about it, she thought.
To Fiona’s surprise, the unicorn seemed annoyed. “Don’t tell me you want to watch the game, as well.” Fiona didn’t get to respond before a loud yell erupted from the trailer: “TOUCHDOWN!”
The purple mare’s annoyance deepened. “She doesn’t even know the rules.” Fiona laughed a little; her first genuine laugh of today. “Come in, Fiona, maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
Wow, getting ponies to invite you in was truly easy. What if she’d abuse their trust? Of course, Fiona wasn’t going to, but lots and lots of people surely would, at some point or another. These creatures must be easier than game to determined sociopaths.
A shudder cut off her stream of thought. The bad memories still lingered uncomfortably close.
The unicorn moved out of the way and let Fiona in. The trailer looked even bigger from the inside. It featured a fully-equipped kitchen, a lounge, and apparently two bedrooms, one in both ends. The unicorn, who introduced herself as Twilight Sparkle, led Fiona to the lounge.
There was a TV on the wall, a coffee table, a large armchair, and a couch with a light blue pegasus-pony loafing on it. The pony was keenly following a match between Chicago Bears and Detroit Lions. It was their last match before the Playoffs and had actually been played yesterday evening.
“Rainbow Dash this is Fiona. She-”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, what kinda throw is that?” The pegasus didn’t take its eyes off the screen. Fiona looked back at Twilight, who just motioned her further in.
“Hey, uh, Rainbow Dash, you know that’s a rerun, right?”
“Yes, uh, Fiona, it is. What are you getting at?” Twilight’s annoyed expressions from before began to make more and more sense.
“Change the channel, please. News channel, preferably.” This finally made the rainbow-colored head turn and take a look at Fiona. After a quick glance, the pony started to chuckle.
“Okay, Fiona. A request from a fashionable pony such as you, who could refuse, right?” She said while chortling between words. What an annoying piece of shit. Guess every species has its share of those.
“Save it, Rainbow Ass.” As juvenile as that was, Fiona wanted to see if the pegasus would react in a typical douchebag manner.
“Whoa, take it easy,” it said, springing up from the couch, “I was just teasing you. Aah, the remote...” The pegasus – apparently a mare – retrieved a small remote from between the cushions, placed it on the coffee table, and began surfing through channels. How she was able to do all this so easily with only her front hooves was something Fiona could only marvel at.
“Rainbow Ass, heh, I guess I deserved that one. But still, that bag of yours doesn’t suit you at all.” Before Fiona had a chance to feel embarrassed, a big, bright news headline stole her concentration, and filled her with worry.
Federal police compound hit; survivor of South State Conversion Bureau gone missing.
Fiona stared incredulously at the screen. It was showing an aerial shot of a red concrete block with some smoke floating around. What are the chances, she thought to herself. Two out of the two men she’d previously met were mad. Bennett was supposed to get Chase out of there, but with an oral or an authoritative assault. This kind of thing would only cause more trouble for everyone.
Small bits of information scrolled at the bottom of the screen. There had been at least one confirmed attacker. He was male, Caucasian, and had disguised himself as a federal agent. He had used small explosives and smoke bombs to divert attention from his entry and subsequent breaking into the interrogation room that had held Chase. While inside the compound, he had apparently drugged three people, and they were yet to recover. The situation had ended with the attacker opening fire and injuring another three feds, before escaping the scene with motionless Chase on his back.
Fiona stopped at the word ‘motionless’. Had Chase been unconscious? Or just unwilling to escape? Bennett carrying a full-grown pony on his back and escaping from angry feds at the same time seemed very unlikely. Sure, he probably was in great shape for a man of his age, but that wouldn’t be enough. Unfortunately, the only alternative to Bennett was far worse.
“Oh, no.” Fiona uttered silently after the information banner had rolled through its loop. “It’s him. The man, who slaughtered the Bureau and... And now he’s got Chase.”
“Do you mean,” Twilight said over Fiona’s shoulder, “that the same man, who Chase denounced to the press has now broken him out?” Fiona just stared at her for a moment, numerous questions popping to mind.
“How do you know Chase?”
It was Rainbow, who answered: “He came by here two hours ago. But how do you know Zephyr Chase?” The pegasus flew across the room, a tip of her wing missing Fiona’s eye by an inch, and slumped back onto the same couch she’d occupied a few minutes ago.
To lie, or not to lie were the two options Fiona was facing yet again. She knew for a fact that rescuing Chase on her own wasn’t an option. She’d need help, but from who? Exposing herself to the media would divert attention from Chase and the attacker to her, which would only make it harder to find them. Bennett was on the other side of Chicago, possibly injured, drugged or both. However, he was a capable man.
There were also these ponies. Fiona didn’t know what they were even doing here – they didn’t look too busy or anything. Since there was one of their own in trouble, surely they would help. Fiona turned to Twilight and Rainbow, and recounted the events that had led her to rapping at their trailer door.
Despite Fiona’s pleas, the purple unicorn stayed firm. “I’m sorry, Fiona, but I can’t leave my post. I’m under Princess Celestia’s direct orders, and, unfortunately, they go beyond even a situation like this.”
“What could be more important than saving lives?”
“I and the Wisenote twins are investigating the destruction of South State Bureau.”
“They hate being called Wisenote,” Rainbow added. Fiona’s patience was about to hit record low.
“There is no fucking thing to investigate! That one man is the sole cause of this. He’s gonna kill Chase. But not before he has revealed my part, and then I’m screwed also. We need to find out where they are, get Chase away from there, and then fucking deal with that man.”
Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but got a light blue hoof in there before managing to say another word.
“A pony’s in trouble, and I got nothing to do. Whatever it is, consider it done, Fiona.” Rainbow struck a confident pose in the middle of the room, bringing a slight smile on Fiona’s face. Twilight, however, wasn’t impressed, and the pegasus noticed that.
“I’m not under any orders.” The words were pointed towards both Fiona and Twilight. “I came here, because I was bored. Why should I keep watching television, if there’s something real and serious and important to do?”
“I guess you’re right,” the unicorn mumbled, “just try to keep safe, okay?”
“You know me, Twilight, don’t worry. So, Fiona, what are we supposed to do first?”
“We head for The Union Terminal.”
Fiona walked north towards Roosevelt station, the rainbow-haired pegasus flying anxiously around her. She’d explained to Rainbow Dash that the easiest way to try to contact Bennett would be from his workplace. Fiona had made the mistake of not getting Bennett’s cell phone number in the first place. In fact, she hadn’t even remembered the phone in her backpack until about ten minutes ago.
Though, Rainbow was anxious for another reason: the subway route they were taking. Fiona said they’d take the train at Roosevelt, exit at Washington, and walk the last few hundred feet to The Union Terminal. After the summary, Rainbow could only frown.
“Afraid of heights, Fiona?” Rainbow swooped past her, snitching her cap.
“What? No, why...” She didn’t get to finish her sentence, for she was holding onto the pegasus’ back for her life.
“Sorry for stealing your hat. It was kind of necessary.” Fiona didn’t listen, she didn’t care. Damn earth ponies, why couldn’t she have become a pegasus instead?
The white-haired lady at The Union Terminal’s help desk hadn’t forgotten about Fiona. Actually, she was very eager to surprise her with some impressing news about Bennett: he had already returned to his office upstairs.
“He didn’t look too well, though. Didn’t even say hello, just grunted something to me.”
Fiona asked the lady to inform Bennett of the two visitors. She agreed to do it with a word of warning: “I tell you, he’s in a lousy mood.”
Whatever that even meant in his case, thought Fiona to herself.
This time there was a guard in front of the office door. He let Fiona and Rainbow Dash in, after making sure that they weren’t reporters, and there wasn’t anything dubious concealed in Fiona’s backpack. Luckily, he didn’t ask for their clearance cards.
Bennett sat behind his desk. Dishevelled hair, bags under eyes – his composition seemed slightly dreary in comparison with four hours ago. Judging by Rainbow’s sudden expression of disgust, his smell was apparently quite eccentric as well. Yet, small things like that didn’t keep him from smiling at his quests.
“Hello there, Fiona.” He turned to Rainbow. “And you I remember from yesterday morning. Something... dashing. Rainbow Dash, am I right?” The pegasus nodded in approval. Bennett continued: “I know what you’re here for, but I’m afraid I’ve played all my cards and did rather poorly.” Fiona facepalmed, or was facehooved the correct word now? She wondered if ponies even did this. Wouldn’t they be kicking themselves in the face?
“But you got outta there alive! By the looks, you’re not even badly injured. You did good!” Fiona tried to sniff the air for clues, but found her sense of smell to be inadequate. Maybe that was just another thing she’d have to practice.
Bennett sighed exaggeratedly and shook his head. “While I’m glad to hear your words of support, that guard is still going to stand out there and keep me from leaving.” Fiona couldn’t think of a response, but Rainbow happened to sum her baffled thoughts up pretty well:
“Hey, I thought you were one of the good guys.” Bennett turned to face the landscape that hung on his wall – he had some explaining to do.
***
Chase opened his eyes. He wasn’t in the monitor room anymore. He was lying in a bed very similar to his own in the Bureau. It even smelled quite the same. Nevertheless, this one had better sheets.
It seemed that he’d been sleeping. He couldn’t say for how long, but he’d surely been asleep. He’d even had a strange dream: himself as a human, shooting guns and playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ against his mirror image. That game was one of the very few things the humans had and he badly wanted to get. Chase had made a promise to himself that the minute he’d get back to Equestria he’d find a way for ponies to play it. But that had to wait for now.
Chase checked out his surroundings: a bedside table with a lit lamp on it, a medium-sized window with curtains, and a tall, ajar door. He could see through the window that it was dark outside. All the light in the room came either from the lamp or from the doorway. Sure that his body was free of injury, he sneaked his way carefully to the transparent frame.
He was in an apartment block, and at least five stories up from the ground. The neighbouring buildings he could spot were all only one or two stories high. He also managed to catch some people walking on the street, and even a couple of ponies. The downtown skyscrapers were not too far into the horizon, so he was still in Chicago, probably just a few miles from the centre.
Chase heard the door creak behind him. He turned to see a bespectacled man standing in the doorway, dressed in all black. His hair was faded brown and about as long as Chase’s mane. The man’s face was pale and wrinkled.
“You took your time to wake up, pony.” That voice, that calm, deceptive voice. He looked different, but it was him no doubt. Chase was still a captive, just in another place.
Chase couldn’t stop staring at the man. His face looked so old, but the rest of his body told otherwise: it was muscular yet slim – ‘fit’, as they would call it. He wore some kind of a black jump suit with matching gloves and boots. The suit was a very stiff one: Chase couldn’t even see the chest move, though the man was most certainly breathing.
The man took Chase to a combined living and dining room lit by a lamp in the ceiling. There were couch cushions on the floor, a couple of stools next to a table, and a small television – the smallest Chase had ever seen. A window was pointing at same direction as the one in the other room.
The man sat on one of the stools, holding the large handgun from earlier. Chase sat down on a cushion, he hadn’t yet uttered a word and decided to stay that way. After a moment of silence, the man began to speak:
“I bet you want to ask about some things. Don’t be too afraid to do so. I couldn’t have brought you here just to kill you, now could I?” Chase had questions, of course, but trust was another thing. There was no way that man would tell him the truth, he would just try to play him. Chase recalled the man’s upset expression in the fed building, so, he’d try that again.
“Someone, help! Call nine-one-one! I’ve been kidnapped!” Chase’s cry did get a reaction from the man, but it was more that of surprise than worry. His face quickly returned to normal, except for a new, cocky smile.
“Oh, don’t think I’m that easy to foil. We’ve got the whole floor to ourselves, and in addition, this used to be a retirement home, so they padded the interiors sound proof.” Chase was stunned. No matter how cowardly, that had probably been his only chance. “Don’t start sulking on me, pony. That isn’t the way we play it here,” the man added playfully.
From the first few words, Chase was sure engaging in conversation with the man was a mistake. The man introduced himself as ‘Brisk Meadow’.
“That’s an earth pony name!”
“It is? I just made it up. Besides, isn’t Zephyr Chase more fitting for a pegasus?”
“Uh... I guess my parents thought it’d be funny.” Chase rolled his eyes. The real story, of course, was longer and more complicated. Chase’s parents were pegasi and so were his younger brother and sister. In fact, the four previous generations down in the family tree had all been pegasi, so he must have been quite a shock. Naturally, there was nopony thinking that way, at least never out loud.
Being an earth pony in Manehattan was not a problem, but when Chase was the only pony in the family with no wings, he sometimes felt a bit restrained. Especially when his brother got new friends in flight school. Still, he always thought he’d been lucky, for the essence of Manehattan was not its skies.
“Ha, you’re the one being funny here.”
“Whatever, ‘Meadow’. So.. What am I doing here, if you’re not going to kill me because of my-”
“Yes. I may be in a good mood right now, but I sure wasn’t after that publicity stunt of yours,” Meadow said the last words with a hint of bitterness. “You’re simply to repair the damage you’ve caused. Yet first, please, tell me how you did it? How did you stay in the Bureau, evade me, and still get out in time? You’re more than just a simple one-trick pony, Chase, and I respect that.”
Who, or rather what was this thing? Chase knew Meadow was lying, most likely with every word, but his act was so convincing Chase almost wanted to believe him. How was this possible: he’d only been talking with him for ten minutes!
“I won’t tell you. And I won’t help you with anything.” Some battle of wills was this going to be.
Meadow exhaled notably and shook his head a little. “Chase, you don’t understand. I never wanted any of this to happen.” Chase’s brows shot up in astonishment. That was one gigantic lie. “I thought the blizzard would’ve driven everyone inside. I was about to leave, when I heard there was someone missing. Some employee had gone to that concert.”
Meadow bore his head down. “I was so pissed. I had to give up and try another time... but I couldn’t, I lost it. I killed everyone.” He looked Chase straight in the eyes. “Even that girl, who just stumbled upon the scene. I didn’t even ask her if she was the one. I just took it for granted and killed her, slowly.” Chase turned his head away, he knew this all too well.
Except Fiona wasn’t dead, a fact he wouldn’t reveal regardless of anything.
“Do you feel content that those deaths are because of you? Wouldn’t you do anything to prevent future events like this one?” Chase didn’t want to listen. He looked out of the window and sang songs in his head, anything to keep his mind somewhere else. It proved difficult to do so. “You need to realise that by helping me, you can help countless others.”
“NO! I will rather die.” Chase stared furiously at his captor, yet his patience was far from gone. Chase knew there were people outside looking for him – after all, he was an escaped prisoner – so he had to buy all the time he could afford. Meadow seemed determined to make Chase join him, therefore every refusal would make him try harder. He could bring it all, Chase was prepared.
Not saying a word, Meadow walked out through the doorway. Chase sat still on the cushion and heard some clanging from another room. It took Meadow less than twenty seconds to return holding an injection needle in his right hand. The needle was considerably bigger than the one Chase had seen the man use before. It was filled with some translucent green liquid.
“Chase, meet Jared. Jared‘s here to make sure you get a little sleep on it.” Meadow held the needle against the light, as to make sure the clarity of its contents was up to standard. “Jared is the enzyme that controls the brain’s sleep pattern. During waking hours the enzyme will build up, and at a certain point it will tell the brain to fall asleep. It’s the most natural and widely used sleeping drug in the world.”
Chase didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened. He remembered some newfoals joking about finally getting rid of their multitude of drug addictions, sleeping or otherwise. Still, getting that much human drugs into his veins could no way be healthy.
Meadow continued: “The only downside is that a steady supply of Jared will, over time, prevent your body from producing it on its own. Many people, including me, can no longer sleep normally without injecting it. Don’t know if that would happen to ponies too.”
Meadow rose from his stool. Walking towards Chase, he had his left arm ready to bind him down. When Chase showed no signs of resisting, he just put the hand gently onto his shoulder, but the touch still felt heavy. The right hand thrust the needle into his neck.
“As I said.” Chase felt Meadow take the needle out. “You need to sleep on it.” The drug took effect almost immediately. Chase felt his body get heavier, his eyelids closing on their own. He only made it halfway through his yawn.
Chase woke up. His eyes adjusted fairly well to the darkness in the room. He noticed he was alone. Meadow hadn't lied about the 'naturality' of the sleeping drug. He had slept well, all things considered, feeling sharp and capable.
Chase had now slept on it, and obviously, his resolve was still the same. This had been an odd move from the man. Should the drug have effected him differently? Chase had had a terrible dream. It had made him relive the events in the Bureau, with Meadow's provocative words echoing from the walls and ceiling. But it was just a dream and not vivid enough to have much impact. Jared wasn't any sort of hallucinogenic.
Where was Meadow, anyway? No lights were lit, and the sound proofness lived up to its name, but his smell still lingered. Chase slowly sneaked his way to the front door of the apartment which – as expected – was locked. A brief peek through the door to his right revealed another bedroom, much like the one where Chase woke up yesterday, occupied by a familiar black-clad figure.
Meadow lay on his stomach, face looking away from Chase. His boots and gloves sprawled on the floor beside him. Since the man had taken the time to remove extra clothing, the keys were probably around here too. Anyway, small things like keys were hard to point out in the dark, and Chase didn't dare to turn any lights on. He was about to proceed further into the room, when a sudden realisation hit him: Meadow was drugged – the man had said so himself!
Click. The bedroom bathed in cold, white light. Meadow’s left hand hanging off the edge of the bed caught Chase’s attention for a moment. Meadow’s mechanical hand was unlike anything he’d seen, all the many so called prosthetics included. This wasn’t even made to look real, which explained the use of gloves. Considering his hand had looked relatively normal in the fed building, this wasn’t the only type of glove he had.
The keys had also become visible, along with some other things on the nightstand: another needle of a different design, his glasses, a piece of metal that looked like a replacement handle for a weapon, and Meadow’s gun. Chase snatched the small key chain to his teeth. He knew he should have left right away, but the handgun tempted him too much. It wasn’t too hard to carry both it and the keys, and if there was anything he could do to ruin the man, he was totally up for it.
Chase had to go through all the three keys in the chain before the lock gave the required snap. He had the door half open, when he heard a cough from his right. He turned to see Meadow still lying in bed – facing him with both eyes open.
“Chase, come back now, and we can settle this... AAH!” The cry sounded like it was full of both anger and pain, but it wasn’t the time to ponder such things. Chase pulled the apartment door shut, locking it. He had to get into the elevator and out of this place.
Chase didn’t take his hoof off the button before the contraption began its descent. He had now effectively sealed himself in, but it was the fastest way down, when out of the window wasn’t an option. That man couldn’t outrun an elevator, especially when being locked up inside his apartment without a key. Chase’s relative comfort was short-lived yet again, as his panting got accompanied by the lyrics of a familiar song.
where is the fun?
where is the fun without pain?
with no sacrifice there’s nothing to regain
At first, they came clearly from above but were closing in every second.
what did you do?
what did you do that I couldn’t see?
‘cause everything turns to nothing if it’s free
The ride came to its stop at the first floor – one floor too early.
The silver door slid open, and Chase found himself staring at the sweaty, disorganised face of Meadow. He entered the cab, Chase backing away in return. Meadow slowly lifted his robotic hand to the console and sent the elevator back up to the sixth floor. His right hand held the metal handle from the nightstand, but with a white blade attached to it.
“You’re a real pain, pony. I’d like to kill you, put you down like an animal.” Meadow looked miserable, vulnerable. There was little vigor left in his voice.
Chase spat the gun and the keys to the floor. If only he’d try to pick them up... The man continued: “But as they say, you–” The cab halted, almost tripping Meadow. Chase took his chance and aimed a buck for his chest, hoping to kick him out through the now open doorway. But Chase’s hooves hit nothing except air.
The crouched Meadow wasn’t about to waste his turn, and so the sparkling white blade turned red.
Chase’s right hind leg was burning, emanating searing pain through his body. Meadow kicked the key chain and the gun off the cab and then dragged Chase – and arguably himself too – to the hallway. “Don’t take the blade off.” Meadow leaned on a wall, slowly sliding to a sitting position on the floor. “And don’t wake me up again.” He grabbed the keys, clutched them inside his metal fist, and drifted off to sleep.
Chase wanted to scream, not out of pain but out of frustration. Out of the window he saw the morning’s first rays. They were clearly mocking him and his misery.