Godzilla awoke with a start! Or was he awake? All he could see was dark, all he could feel was cold, and all he could hear was the sound that a draft makes in a cave.
At least it wasn't the searing light of the Hydrogen Bomb, or worse, the light of the Antimatter Bomb that would later be known as the Oxygen Destroyer, but the eternal black was worse than the dark depths he called home. This dark was so alien, and so empty, that he would never feel at home here. Was this death?
Can you hear me? a deep, powerful voice beckoned him.
Who are you? Godzilla telepathically responded.
I am the Destroyer of Worlds the sinister voice replied.
Did you make this place? Godzilla inquired?
Not directly. I'm certainly not in charge of it. A lot of the reason why it's here is because of me, but no, I didn't make it or have any control over it. the Dark being replied.
I don't understand Godzilla admitted.
Once, I was Death, I caused destruction. But then True Death found me, even Carnage comes to an end, hence I am here.
You're Death? Godzilla asked.
Not in the sense that you think: I was born in chaos and destruction, when all matter was conflicting with its opposite. And I too, brought chaos myself. They say that chaos is the substance of the Universe, and my own actions may have helped bring it about. I lived longer than any mortal being, yet even I am mortal.
There was a pause, and then a dull ache pierce Godzilla: This "Destroyer" was probing his mind and heart.
Fortunately, it was swift, and the Destroyer went back to his narcissistic monologuing: I understand that you want to assert yourself over those that would destroy you, yes? I wish something similar. There is a substance in the Universe that dominates it, that should not be the dominating substance. It should be as even as it was when I was born. Matter and its opposite, forever dueling in harmony, the state of the Universe I called home. We truly are kindred spirits, you and I. We both want our lives back, before the tragic changes that scarred us.
Godzilla did not rightfully understand all that talk of "matter and its opposite"; he figured it wasn't important. He did, however, understand the sensation of having his life taken away from him completely and unfairly. He was also relieved that the monologue was less histrionic than it was earlier. Then the dull ache hit him, and left quickly.
I take it you want to help me, or at least are toying with the thought the deep voice of the self-styled "Destroyer" purred. For us to fulfill our deal, you must take two steps: Walk forward, and no other direction. Never stop walking. It will seem like a path over the eternal dark, but eventually, a light shall appear. Approach it. Then you can see beyond the limits of your cells, that binds you to this place. But you won't be free. You will only meet other prisoners that know that there is more than the dark. To be free, speak to the leader of the prisoners, Izanami. She has a bargaining power with the wardens, the Guardians of Light. Perhaps you can make a deal or a gambit for freedom.
Godzilla knew nothing of gambits and wardens, cells and prisoners. He led a simple life, of feasting on iron-rich sea animals, and converting the iron into radioactive fuel. The only complicated concept he cared about was family, for he had a son once, but that was long ago; the son grew up and moved closer to the north. He sometimes thought about this son of his. He was certain his offspring would be alright, though he was beginning to comprehend the nature of this Universe, and realized that he likely wouldn't see him again. But what was with that ridiculous dance of his?
Why should I help you? Godzilla responded, I actually find comfort in the eternal dark. And I can't leave.
Ah, but you can, and so can I- with your help. You have some privileges I do not. And would you not like to continue to aid my most worthy of causes? Better to venture out, and take a chance, than to rest in the eternal dark, doing nothing. The Destroyer explained.
Godzilla thought about it: Now that made sense. Maybe he would see his son again. But which way would he turn? Before Godzilla would concentrate his thoughts to asking the voice for guidance him, the voice surprised him by booming out:
Just go forward. You'll find it.
Spike was annoyed: That Twilight, always fussing over him!
"Spike, you just have a little bit of smudge...right over here!" She added, wiping him quickly with her hoof. "There! Now, have a good day, sweetie!" she added, before giving him a little kiss on the cheek.
"Ugh, guh-ross!" Spike spat, wiping his face before leaving the door.
Twilight hated that remarks like that were always his last words before going out.
What she hated more was that Spike was almost certainly going to see Rarity. Twilight liked Rarity, but she was certain that Rarity didn't care for Spike as much as Spike cared for her. Spike was a lovesick puppy, every day, pining away for something he could never, ever achieve. He knew this deep down, and cried himself to sleep every night; nothing could hurt Twilight more than to know someone who she viewed as her own son was in so much pain. What was worse was that Spike tended to forget his manners around hot mares, and he was sure to do something that would offend Rarity: Rarity was equally sure to overreact to Spike's crude attention, the moment she learned of it.
But what was more troubling was that Rarity was older than Twilight, and it made Twilight uneasy to think about it, because she knew something Spike didn't, and she knew she had to tell him everything.
Everything, before it was too late.
Scootaloo rushed to an open clearing over which a cloud on which Rainbow Dash was resting on hovered. "Wake up wake up wake up!!!"
"Rainbow Dash, Rainbow Dash!! It's coming it's coming! The second awesomest Pony besides you!"
"Huh? Who, Spitfire?"
"No! My dad!"
"Oh, well that's nice. Anyway, I'm getting some shut-eye-"
"No! You gotta hear me out!"
With a yawn, Rainbow said "later Scoots"
"Aw, but c'mon!"
Rainbow rolled her eyes and turned herself, now peeking from over her cloud.
"All, right, tell me."
Scootaloo grinned broadly and used her mouth to take off her backpack before unzipping it and then she pulled out a letter from her back back. Rainbow Dash lazily glided down and landed softly in front of Scootaloo, ready to read the letter.
миний бэлэг, Скуталу
How I have missed you! I saw the photo of you, and you have grown! I have good news for you (and I am overjoyed to write this): The next reserve meeting is in Ponyville, and I shall be there to see you!
I shall be in Ponyville this Friday, at dawn. I am coming early, so we can spend some time together, just the two of us. Give your aunt my love (enclosed is a photo of me! For the both of you!).
With all my love,
таны аав, Сүхбаатар
Rainbow Dash put down the letter, and then saw the photo: The writer of the letter was apparently a Przewalski's Horse, with darling eyes and legs, and a pale, thick muzzle. He was also a Pegasus, and he was in a military uniform. Rainbow has to admit, she liked stallions in Uniform. And those almost black eyes and that muzzle were sho adowabul!
"Any questiosns?" Scootaloo asked with a grin.
"Yeah, what do these squiggles mean?"
Spike spent the whole day at the Carousel Boutique, just watch Rarity at work. Or rather, her body. He liked the way it moved, and seeing the muscle shift as she worked. Rarity paid no attention, and was just going on with her hyperactivity. "And so I said to her, 'No Darling, I don't always say "Darling"', and then she said 'You did it again! You just called me "Darling!"', and I said 'I don't know what you're talking about, Darling'..." Spike was admiring how her horn shimmered in the sunlight, and how well-built she was. "Really, Darling, I don't say Darling in every sentence, do I Darling? Oh, the nerve of some Ponies, Darling..." Spike was now beginning to observe how her teats bounced off one another, while Rarity was oblivious to just how closely he examined her. While searching for something, she threw out many clothes in search, one of them being a thong that landed on Spike's head. That did it. He could no longer resist. He had to now look at her plot.
...Unfortunately for him, Rarity was now stealing a glance at where he was looking at the same time...