III - Fun With Fact-Checking and Anxiety-Causing Interrogation
Octavia had never felt so affronted in all of her life.
Standing before her, despite her reprimands and warnings, was the one pony in Equestria she refused to lay eyes on ever again.
"You?!" She roared as the female guard ushered Midnight Oil inside. "I thought I told you never to come anywhere near me!"
"I have to serve this crazy shrew?!" Midnight wailed in despair. "Of all the–! Faust, who art in heaven, please tell me this is a cruel joke!"
"They sent you?! You're Midnight Oil?!" Octavia paced back and forth, rubbing her temples. "Oh Goddess, no. No, no, no!"
"Hey, don't think I'm pissing myself with giddiness, too!"
"Come on, Midnight, in you go," Scorch ordered calmly as she nudged the Sarosian inside. Midnight swept the coordinates with watchful eyes. Oak dining table with four chairs, side kitchen with bar stools by the granite counter and the typical utilities, a splendeur living room with flat-screen television and two plush-looking couches with a glass coffee table, two bedrooms, and a large balcony with deck chairs. Every single aspect of the room was very elegant. It must have costed a fortune to live here.
"Miss Octavia Philharmonica?" Scorch started. "Private First Class Scorch Shot. I would like for you to calm down so that I can explain how this works."
"No! I will not calm down with that animal in here!" Octavia pointed a menacing finger at Midnight, who took on a look of offence.
"'Animal'?" he reiterated. "How about you watch your mouth, you trollop?!"
"Do not think that I'll take orders from a filthy rat-eating cavedweller such as yourself: you're to take orders from me!"
"Not when you're gonna be a pain in my ass!"
"Tavi, who's there?" called Vinyl from the kitchen.
"Nopony, Vinyl!" Octavia wailed back. "You're just hearing things!"
"Liar," Vinyl retorted. She stepped into the living room dressed in baggy camouflage shorts and a white tank-top, with a black eighth-note on the chest and her iconic opaque purple shades nestled in her messy electric-and-royal blue mane. "Octavia, I didn't know you could bring cute guys home."
Midnight seized up, cheeks roasting with a mild fire. 'Wait, cute?'
Octavia remained unfazed, as she goes on to say, "This is no 'guy', and it certainly is not cute: It is something disgusting that must be exterminated at once."
"Sweet Luna, lady! I'm not a cockroach!" exclaimed Midnight, annoyed at the emasculation.
"You might as well be."
"Tavi, it's rude to bad-mouth guests, regardless of race," Vinyl said rather critically, despite her light and care-free nature. "Come in, you two, take a seat," she beseeched Scorch and Midnight, a smile on her lips.
'That was a fast transition of emotions,' thought Midnight.
"Lay down newspaper before you sit down: I don't want you tainting my couch," Octavia barked at Midnight, who was gearing up to conjure a swarm of swears upon her.
"Tavi!" reprimanded Vinyl in a warning voice as she sojourned into the kitchen.
Octavia growled in frustration, along with immense anger. "Fine. Sit."
"Thanks," Midnight droned halfheartedly. He did as he was told, twiddling his thumbs once again. Vinyl had called Octavia into the kitchen, leaving Midnight and Scorch alone in the living room.
"You're doing well, considering the situation," Scorch told him.
"Yeah? It's taking all I have and then some not to tie her up in a computer chair and shove her into open traffic," admitted Midnight, sighing heavily.
Scorch snickered into her hand. "Will you be alright? It looked like she has no trouble being as derogative as possible."
"Yeah. I've heard it all before, so... I think I'll manage."
He felt Scorch's hand pat him in the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think you can make it through these two months."
"Honestly, a year in the dungeons looks a bit more appealing than this." Midnight smiled for the first time since his sentence. He could only hope it wouldn't be his last. "But thanks. It was very nice of you to say that."
Scorch sighed, and rose to her hooves. "Well, I should be going."
"Nonsense!" Vinyl and Octavia said in unison, a tray of tea with four cups in the latter's hands.
"It's not often we have guests here," Vinyl admitted as Octavia laid the tea tray down on the coffee table. "So we make the most of it." Vinyl used her magic to pour the tea and evaporated milk into the delicate cups, the containers hovering over to each recipient in a periwinkle magic field.
"Thanks," the others said in unison.
"Sorry about our lack of introduction," Scorch apologized sincerely. "I'm Private First Class Scorch Shot, and this is Midnight Oil."
"Oh, no, don't worry about it," started Vinyl, getting situated on one of the two couches that flanked the coffee table. "So, Midnight, where did you say you were from again?"
"I don't recall ever saying where I'm from," Midnight said calmly, the tea soothing his nerves. 'Chamomile with mint,' he thought happily. "But if you would like to know–"
"–which we don't," Octavia shot in.
"...I was born in Hoofghanistan."
"Ooh! Sounds exotic," commented Vinyl, downing half of her tea in one gulp. "Which city?"
"Jalalabuck, in the Neighngarhar district."
"So you can speak the language, right?"
"Ponsi?" Vinyl nodded. "Yeah. That, and many more."
Octavia, hands shaking from being near something she abhorred for too long, grew skeptical. She set her tea down on the table and leered at Midnight in doubt. "That's highly unlikely. It's not possible for someone of your breed to converse in several different languages, let alone speak more than ten words of Equuish itself."
Midnight sighed in disappointment, rather worried about Octavia's lack of belief. "It is actually very likely... Octavia, was it?" The mare clicked her tongue at having her title rolled off the forked tongue of the Sarosian. "As a scribe, I have to know these languages, so that I can translate them to Equuish so that the Princesses can refer to them whenever they need to."
Mouth full of tea, Octavia spat out her liquid unceremoniously out of shock, unintentionally showering Midnight in a nasty amalgamation of cold saliva and warm drink. "...Ew," mumbled Midnight, wiping himself clean with a napkin. "Yeah, that's attractive," he murmured sarcastically.
"You? A scribe?" coughed an incredulous Octavia, not even giving the idea of apologizing a second thought.
"It's true: he is the princesses' scribe," confirmed Scorch. Midnight shrunk a bit into his spot on the couch, uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving.
"I highly doubt that," scoffed the cellist.
"And I highly doubt anyone asked for your opinion," snapped Midnight, the others taken aback by his words. Octavia froze, not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner. "You can even test me on them, if you're so unsure."
"Ooh!" exclaimed Vinyl. "Say, 'Turn up the volume on the speakers', in Prench!"
Midnight thought for a moment. "Montez le volume des haut-parleurs."
"That is tiiight!" squealed Vinyl, overjoyed. Scorch was slightly interested, but Octavia, although a little surprised, was unimpressed.
"Can you say, 'Hello. How do I get to the train station in Flankfurt?' in Germane?" asked the first class private.
"Hallo. Wie komme ich zum Bahnhof in Flankfurt zu bekommen?" reiterated Midnight in the language Scorch requested.
"Whoa. Not bad," Scorch commented.
"What about 'Shiny Shell sells seashells down by the seashore' in Neighpanese?" Vinyl's ruby-red eyes were wide in astonishment.
"Shainī Sheru wa kaigan de kaigara o shita ni hanbai shite imasu, repeated Midnight.
"...I want to buy him, how much is he?" Vinyl announced unexpectedly. Midnight, face burning with embarrassment, scooted away in his seat as far as he can: unfortunately, he didn't really get far, given that he was as far back in his seat as he could be already. "Gotcha!" Vinyl said jokingly. Midnight let out a breath he didn't realize he was withholding. "But seriously, that is really cool."
"Can you introduce yourself in Ponsi?" wondered Scorch aloud, sipping her tea.
"Salaam. Naam men ast Midnight Oil. Chihe tou ast?" Scorch clapped slightly. "Hello, my name is Midnight Oil. How are you?"
"Okay, fine, I believe you!" Octavia blurted as Vinyl applauded as well. "I believe that you're a scribe. Now stop showing off."
"Fair enough," Midnight sighed. "As long as you understand."
"So tell me, what's it like being a scribe?" Vinyl asked.
"Well... it's like being a news reporter of a special sort. I travel around the world with the Princesses whenever they have to meet someone important, I translate the foreign languages they speak to Equuish, then archive them for the Princesses to use later," explained Midnight. "I have to write fast enough to keep up with the conversations, I have to figure out who says what, I have to study the languages of the places I go and use them without fault–it's a pretty demanding job."
"What's the fastest you've ever written?" Scorch asked, curious.
"Hmm... I've managed to write eighty-seven words in a minute when we went to see the delegates of Saddle Arabia." Scorch's and Vinyl's eyes were the size of pinpricks, mouth slightly open in stunned disbelief. "They speak Arabuck very fast. I almost wanted to die from how magically strained I was."
"Wait... you've been all over the world?!" Vinyl screamed, eyes bright and mouth curled up in an impregnable grin.
"Y-yeah," stuttered Midnight, slowly getting anxious from the sudden questions. 'Wow, she's slow... but crap, this is not good.'
"Oh my Goddess, you gotta tell me about it! I'm just dying to know what it's like out there!"
"S-some places are really welcoming, like South Koltrea, Indoneighsia, Turkhay, Braytain; O-others, like Neighraq, Brayitnam, the Diamond Dog city of Sibarkia, a-are relatively dangerous. Revolutions, c-criminal activity, Communism, the like." Midnight's anxiety was slowly rising. He tried to drink from his tea to ameliorate his nerves, only to taste nothing but the dregs of a bitter cup.
"Midnight, you okay there?" Scorch queried. "Your breathing is getting shaky."
"I-I need to use the loo," he fibbed.
"Down that hall, first door on the left," said Octavia, as Midnight quickly got up and speed-walked towards the lavatory. "And don't you dare make a mess!"
"Oh, don't get your knickers in a bind!" Midnight called through the door. Beyond the barrier of the wooden door, Midnight could hear Octavia badmouthing him. As he turned around, though, all sense of anger was wiped away from his mind, welcoming fascination instead. "Whoa."
The bathroom was just as grandeur as the rest of their home. A cylindrical marble-carved shower and bathtub, closed by a translucent glass door and resting next to a baby blue porcelain toilet, which was placed in front of a wide-basin sink of the same colored porcelain. A large ovular mirror hung about the sink, the top lined with miniature incandescent lightbulbs. Next to the door was a laundry hamper, stuffed to the gills with dirty clothes. Towels hung on the shower door, fluffy, clean, and unused. Smooth light granite tiles made up the floor, walls, and ceiling.
'Hay, even the toilet paper holder is freakin' fancy.' Indeed, for aforementioned buttwipe dispenser appeared to be wrought from pure gold as it sat attached to the wall, between the toilet and the shower. Midnight paced back and forth in the spacious bathroom, waiting longer than usual for his breathing speed to return to normal.
"Say, Scorch," Midnight heard Vinyl start, "Does Midnight always wear that hat of his?"
"What? Oh, yeah."
"Why?"
"Geez, you ask a lot of questions. I honestly don't know. He's got a lot of trust issues. Either he had a really bad manecut or a dye job gone wrong."
"He doesn't look like the kind of pony to dye his mane."
"Either way, he never really takes that thing off in public. Weird, eh?" Midnight felt a thunderstorm of self-concern brew inside him, the lightning bolts of self-questioning banging into every iota of him.
"Have you tried talking to him about it?" Vinyl inquired.
"Not really: he's always around the library, with the Princesses on business, or locked up in his room. Pretty the only time he leaves is when he gets food from the mess hall." Scorch sighed. "Besides, he's really skeptical about somepony's loyalty, and he's very reserved, keeping to himself a lot. It's hard to keep up a conversation with him, since he goes silent whenever he thinks somepony's done talking to him."
"They don't know," Midnight mouthed as he slumped onto the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked like Tartarus, the dark shadows under his eyes heavily pronounced. Even his movements felt a little sluggish. "Good. They don't deserve to. At least… not yet."
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
"Midnight, you alright in there?" Vinyl questioned, worrying why he'd been in there for a while.
"Y-yeah, I'm okay," said the fidgety scribe. He had lost all track of time. He checked his watch: 10:21. He had been in the bathroom for over two minutes, unbeknownst to him. 'Gotta make it sound like I actually USED the pot.' He thought as he flushed the toilet, the sounds of several liters of water rushing through the pipes. Washing his hands and face thoroughly, Midnight patted them dry with one of the towels on the shower door before stepping out.
"Where's Scorch Shot?" The first class private was nowhere in sight.
"She went back to the castle," Octavia answered: she appeared to have returned the tea tray back to the kitchen, as it was not longer on the coffee table. "Important duties she had to attend to." She sat down next to Vinyl, who was giggling as she watched the last of the Saturday morning cartoons on the telly.
"So how do this community service gig work?" asked Midnight. "I just wait at your beck and call at all times for the next two months?"
"Correct." Octavia said. "I guess you're not as slow and stupid as I perceived you to be."
"Well, I did help you with your groceries and walk you home in the rain, so… yeah. There's not much you know about me at the moment."
"Well, that was awfully nice of a stranger!" Vinyl said, still focused on the program on the television.
"Perhaps, but I do know this: you're to be... what was it, Vinyl?" The alabaster pony whispered in Octavia's ear for a split second. The cellist nodded as she pointed at Midnight and announced with a menacing grin, "You're to be my female dog!"
Vinyl facepalmed, groaning with disappointment. "...Do you mean, 'bitch'?" Octavia nodded at the guess made by Midnight, who pinched the bridge of his nose. "Plus, I can't be female. I have the anatomical goods to prove it."
"That's debatable."
"...You piece of sh–"
Octavia clicked her tongue as Midnight thought of millions of ways to torture her for the insolent remark (unfortunately, not a single method of excruciation was legal). "I don't know... I would more or less call you a temporary slave, Sarosian."
"Slave, eh?" Vinyl grinned suspiciously. "He'll do anything… riiight~?"
"Wait, don't I get a say in the matter?" inquired Midnight, foreshadowing the demise that Vinyl and Octavia will unleash.
"No." The mares bluntly barked.
"Damn."
"Either way, it means more help around the place, right?" Vinyl said, smiling widely as she leaned back on the couch. "Octavia, what do you think?"
"Well… as long as he gets things done, and listens to my every command… I really cannot complain," answered Octavia honestly. "I just hope you're not useless, Sarosian."
"…I'll do my best," Midnight declared. "As long as these months goes by fast, I'll make sure I do the best I can." Those words were viper poison in his mouth, bitter and distasteful. But he had to swallow down his pride, and submit to the humility and loyalty of a common hound.
The Middle Eastern music of a sitar, hand drums, and tambourines rang out from Midnight's jacket. He withdrew the source of the sound from his jacket pocket: his ringing cell phone.
"Princess Twilight"
'What the–? When did I give her my number?'
"Excuse me, can I take this call? It's urgent." he asked. Vinyl's permission came in the form of a quick nod. Midnight pressed the answer icon on the smartphone and put it to his ear as he walked into the hallway again. "Hello, Your Majesty," he said in a hushed voice.
"Midnight, it's a conversation between two ponies," the princess of Magic deadpanned. "I want you to call me Twilight in private, just like you do with Celestia and Luna."
"Okay... er, with all due respect, Twilight, when did I give you my number?"
"You didn't: Luna gave it to me.
"Oh." Midnight felt that his privacy was ever-so-slightly invaded. 'Lovely, my number's getting passed around like some cheap skank at a frat party.' "You needed something, Twilight?"
"Actually, yes. There's a part two to your community service."
"If I have to call Octavia 'Master', I will have to shoot myself."
"…What? No. Me and the other princesses were talking about your consequence, and we figured out something that could benefit both us and you."
"…I don't do this community service and you act like I did?" Midnight sounded a bit too hopeful for his own good.
"Hmm... uh... nope." The sarcasm from Twilight was palpable enough for Midnight to practically taste it.
"Bollocks."
"What we figured out is that you can do the sentence laid out for you, and gain some friends."
Midnight perked up a bit at that last bit... The opportunity of having a companion other than a chimpanzee? He wouldn't give it up for the world! Oh, joy! Oh, Rapture!
But it was all but ephemeral, for he knew exactly what road Twilight was taking now. "You mean…"
"Yes. I want you to befriend Octavia."
Midnight froze, breath caught in his throat. He felt his eyes shrink astronomically, almost to the point of no existence. 'Befriend… Octavia?' The trio of words played over and over, a poorly-made record repeating itself as it spun pathetically on a malfunctioning phonograph known as Midnight's brain.
In his mind's eye, he could see two possible outcomes, two paths he could take that could affect the rest of his life. He saw him fulfilling his twelve months in the dungeon. Malnourished, dressed in shoddy clothes, his once-white hair a dull and lacklustre grey hue. He saw life after imprisonment. He saw himself losing his job, losing his home, his pet and only friend Jericho leaving him. Travelling from town to town, committing crime to get by, getting captured by the Guards he once held no grudge against after a foolish slip-up...and finally, death. By execution. No family or friends to comfort him, to children to carry on his name—he would leave this world all alone. This is what would happen if he said "no".
What he saw when he said "yes" was much, much different.
He saw himself keeping his job, his home, and his pet. He saw Octavia warming up to him, opening herself up to him like an oyster slowly losing its reticence to shelter its pearl from the world. He saw the two of them and Vinyl becoming the best of friends, doing everything together. He saw Octavia develop a crush on another stallion, announcing her love to him, and crying with joy when he reciprocated her feelings. He saw them at the altar reciting their vows, Vinyl with mascara and tears cascading down her face, Midnight holding the rings for them, overjoyed to witness his best friend be wedded. He saw the four of them, old and batshit crazy, acting maniacally in vain search of the nostalgia of youth as they drove around in golf carts, doing graffiti in public parking lots and destroying mailboxes with baseball bats and golf clubs.
Midnight wasn't clairvoyant: these things he saw may never happen. But he weighed down his options, took the good with the bad, and came to a conclusion.
"Hello? Midnight? You there?"
"Huh? Whah?" Midnight had almost forgotten that he was still on the line with Twilight. "Yeah, I'm still here."
"So, what is your answer?"
Midnight knew what he wanted.
"Okay... I'll do it."
~End of Chapter III~