“I think we should sneak in the room,” you state, placing your hoof on the handle. You give him a frown as you glance at him. “Unless you have a better idea?”
“No.” He shrugs. “After you.”
You tentatively place you hoof on the handle. It’s ice cold under your hoof, and the sound of your ragged breathing suddenly blocks out all other sounds. This is it: time for answers.
Slowly, ever so slowly, you press down on the lever until it clicks, sending a sharp crack through the halls.
Glancing over your shoulder, you find nothing out of of place; it appears you are alone with your companions.
Returning your attention to the door, you cautiously push it open. It creaks open, revealing darkness beyond.
Silently, you tip-toe into the room, holding your breath. Once inside, the Beast clicks the door shut behind you, sealing you in the room. You begin lighting up your horn, but all you see is what looks like a normal office—at least, half of an office: parts of the room disappear into darkness.
Looking around, you see an entire wall of filing cabinets on your right. Grinning, you take a few steps closer, the Beast on your heels. You reach out your hoof and reverently pull on the handle, revealing . . .
. . . nothing.
The drawer is bare.
You hear a pony clopping his hooves together from behind you. “Bravo, bravo, I’m impressed,” purrs a feminine voice, silky venom dripping from every word.
You and the Beast quickly spin around as the bright lights come on, causing you to blink and cover your eyes. When you open them, you seen an unassuming mare standing by a small control panel: demure, dainty, and delicate are words you could use to describe her. One thing is for certain, though, she is absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Her flowing golden locks spill over her amber coat, and her ocean blue eyes are half hidden by her mane, yet all the more endearing because of that. She has a horn peeking out of her mane and, curiously enough, you can see she has a pair of wings.
Flanking her on either side are weirdly familiar beasts trapped in large glass tanks. The first has a spear through it midsection—it completely skewered. And half of its head is simply a hole: you can see right through it.
The second is clearly a Giggler, but somehow . . . fresh-looking. Small bit of flesh still cling to it, and blood-soaked meat of unknown origin is dangling from its mouth.
And the third form is merely a lifeless husk, it’s chest cavity nonexistent, and you’re not even sure what’s left of its “head” even qualifies.
Other abominations line the walls. Some barely alive, most of them not. And for some, you’re not even sure. There are too many to describe. Large and small—relatively unchanged and horrendously mutated—one thing remains the same.
They all look familiar.
“Who are you?” asks the Beast, glancing at the unphased mare. She doesn’t even seem remotely surprised to see either of you. Blinking, you glance down at yourself and the Beast. Still monsters.
“Why, I’m the director of this lovely place. Have you enjoyed your stay?” she purrs sweetly, grinning up at you—even the Beast’s smile would look friendlier than hers.
You take an unconscious step backwards. Then, shaking your head, you bare your teeth. “No. We didn’t. And we want answers.”
She groans. “You always want answers. It’s starting to get old. Can’t you just . . . not?”
“What do you mean ‘always’? Explain yourself!”
Rolling her eyes, the mare sighs. “Fine. Take a seat.”
Neither you nor the Beast so much as twitch.
“All right, don’t.” She smiles, unphased. “But until you sit, I won’t say another word.
“Do you want to beat some straight answers out of her?” growls the Beast, taking a quick step forward.
“You would never hurt a pretty mare, would you?” The mare’s horn glows with a warm light as she smiles.
Red mist clouds your vision, and a scream rips its way out of your throat. Fire fills your veins, driving you to your knees. Every part of you is burning up and dying in a torrent of magma. Your throat swells, constricting your breath, and blackness slowly creeps into the red of your vision. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but pain.
You’re going to die.
Just as suddenly as it came, it left. You feel fine.
You regain your senses and find yourself lying facedown on the floor. Lifting up your head, you see the Beast in a similar state of confusion.
The mare lets out a sadistic chuckle. “You thought I would leave myself defenseless? You’re even stupider than your predecessors! Now, are you ready to sit and listen?”
Staring at her the entire time, you get off your stomach and take a seat, the Beast following in suit.
“I see you are a quick learner. Good. Maybe I can use you after all.”
“Use us?”
“If you will just stop asking questions, we can get this over with. You have proven to respond well to explanations.”
The Beast opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the Director’s horn glows; he quickly shuts his mouth.
“That’s better. Now where was I . . . ? Right. Explaining your existence. You were born here with five hundred of your brothers approximately a year ago. Yesterday, we took you and your four podmates out of cryogenic stasis for conditioning.”
“Wha . . . ? Five hundred brothers!”
“That’s not entirely accurate. Clones, actually. The original ‘you’ is long dead. He had . . . complications.” She smiles innocently.
Mind reeling, you would have fallen if you hadn’t been sitting. “Then . . who am I?”
“You’re a nopony. A nothing. A glob of DNA we restructured into the form of a pony to suit my needs. You don’t even have a soul. Neither of you.”
The breath leaves your lungs slowly. “Why?” the Beast rasps. “Why would you do this?”
“I need an army. What better way to train an army than have them learn how to survive in the harshest place I could create. You overcame each obstacle differently, depending on numerous factors. You triumphed a different pony each time, but one factor remained: you were to be feared. Each of my soldiers is a self-sustained killing machine; even without orders, you can wreak havoc. And each will serve me until the very end, till death and beyond. Their loyalty to me is absolute: I can order them to kill each other, and they will obey without hesitation. I personally saved them when their lives were all but gone. When the darkness was closing in, I was their angel; I nursed the strong back to health while the weak suffered and died.” The mare flicks her mane out of her eyes and frowns. “But something went wrong this time.”
“What?” you ask.
“A glitch in the system. He got out of his sector and into yours,” the Director points her hoof at the Beast. “And the little—” She looks around. “Where is she?”
You look over your shoulder to see that Wisp has disappeared.
“No matter. She will either die or find her way back to testing.”
Tensing your muscles, you growl, but the threat of her magic keeps you from further action.
“As I was saying, once he and whatever you call the filly reached out to you, you changed. The system is designed to be a hellhole for one pony. Once two ponies affected you, you started becoming something far different from the rest. Dare I say, you might have even gained a conscious. I can’t have that when we storm Canterlot.” A devious smile slowly spreads across her face. “So what am I going to do with soldiers I can’t trust? Do you have a suggestion?”
Neither of you respond.
“I could always use more live targets. And the added bonus of intelligence will make you a perfect fighting partner, until you start breaking. Or maybe I should kill you right here.” Her grin resembles the look the Gigglers gave you.
>Attack the Director.
>Gain her trust by attacking the Beast.
>Play submissive, for now.
>Try to stall for more time.
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