//------------------------------// // Prologue: Black Tapestries // Story: Grey Hat // by Journeyman //------------------------------// Prologue: Black Tapestries Darkness. One would not expect so much darkness in the middle of a populated city. The room wasn’t exposed to the city streets, however. It was just a barren, concrete room in some random, unremarkable building, yet no light from the comforting sun ever touched a single corner. By some unspoken command, light blazed through the room and splayed the silhouette of a figure in a chair on the far wall. A set of eight high fidelity monitors projected the same word: REMEMBER Given that the shockingly bright monitors hid the figure’s features in a dark silhouette, even something as simple as the figure’s species proved difficult to discern. The shadows and the light tugged the figure between them both, hiding it from either one’s grasp. “Marvelous, isn’t it?” The figure’s voice was a high and whimsical tenor, and easily discernable as male. One by one, each monitor, upon recognizing the vocal pattern, displayed some new information. The first displayed a set of monetary transactions but the exact details were still encoded. Another flashed a series of pictures in a never-ending loop: a human in an immaculate white suit and blood-red tie, a sow of a man sitting in a decadently decorated office, a fair-coated pony in a stetson with a trio of apples on its recognizably feminine hindquarters, an amalgamous creature posing with a statue that defied gravity, a man wearing a doctor’s garb with an expression devoid of any emotion, and a quietly demure pegasus—hiding her face behind a lengthy cascade of bubblegum-pink hair—proved to be only a few in the lengthy cycle. “Do you know the universe’s most dangerous killer? Its most prolific weapon?” the figure spoke to the room. Raising a pair of limbs, a holographic keyboard display manifested in front of him. He entered a flurry of commands and monitors flashed again and again with walls of data and text. Each one was quickly replaced by a new screen of data after he was finished. Despite the speed, everything seemed to be absorbed and understood by the figure. The setup was quite advanced for one working alone. Servers, wires, metal framework, and screen displays all shined with constant upkeep and state-of-the-art design. No commoner could possibly own or even use such advanced gear. Dozens of hard drives glowed white as their owner actively used what was in their confines, perhaps brimming with intelligence and research data, or storage for later. Various instruments littered the floor, some of them obvious devices and tools used for repairs, while others appeared no more than a dirty hodgepodge of wires and oily metal. Repaired or refurbished computer hardware stood on the far wall. Dozens if not hundreds of paper clippings and printouts littered the wall to his right, yet he paid them no mind. It was a shocking contrast to the otherwise spartan room that housed the figure’s workplace. Save for the computer setup and the wall of photographs and clippings, the room was completely bare.  “Throughout the ages, throughout the vastness of time and space, you’ll receive the usual array of small-minded, self-deluded guesses. The stone. The spear.” He continued to speak, despite him being hauntingly alone. The noise and bustle of the outside world was reduced to less than a quiet hum. Beside the steady rumble of his machinery, everything was as silent as the grave. Each screen was composed of a hollow gray frame. Rather than have a solid screen, light projected from each corner of the frame to create a solid set of images. The first displayed a starship manifest from a corporation, one the figure was certainly not legally allowed to see or possess. OrC. Op. - Organic Corporate Operations “We don’t build, we grow.” Designation: S.S. Starjammer Passengers: 50 Date of Arrival: Today Port of Departure: Zenith Inc. North Atlantic Staryard, Earth Two thousand (2,000) kilograms of enriched hydrocarbons Five hundred (500) kilograms of phosphorus Four hundred fifty (450) kilograms of Gamma-Aminobutyric acid solution Four hundred (400) kilograms of OrC Op. seed treatment Four hundred (400) kilograms of synthetic proteins Three hundred (300) kilograms of Octasulfur Two hundred fifty (250) kilograms of potassium monopersulfate Two hundred fifty (250) kilograms of potash Two hundred (200) kilograms of five (5) kilogram copper ingots A light load, considering it was a medium-sized starship. As there were ports far closer capable of delivering the same materials and thus expending less fuel, it was an oddity that gained the figure’s attention. “The flame. The sword.” A few graceful and practiced arcs across his motion-sensitive interface revealed the ship’s own internal sensors and schematics, but it was still not enough to reveal anything of note. A little deeper search into ship records was in order. Specifically, a stolen security clearance to hack into secure ship records. CCV1 «» SECURITY AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED GREAR, BORIS «» PRIORITY ALPHA PROCESSING CCV1 5555*0000*X1 // 5894 »... »... »...PROCESSING... GREAR, BORIS «» PRIORITY ALPHA »... »... »PENDING... PENDING... PENDING... »... »... «» ALERT «» ALERT «» ALERT «» UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED POTENTIAL LEVEL 4 SECURITY BREACH Red lights flashed across the selected screen as his own security software detected a backhack. A few more quick arcs across the keyboard and both the message and the warning lights vanished in a flash of holographic pixels; the Starjammer’s records were now no more than an open book. Apparently the ship now dwelled in the Magnasanti docks for engine repairs. Digging a little deeper into the ship’s own internal records, the figure discovered the Starjammer had recently undergone a full system overhaul. It was very unusual and unlikely that engine faults could have been overlooked, unless the ship was currently carrying a much heavier load than what was on the manifest, which in turn forced a stronger burden on the engines. Naughty naughty. Someone was hiding a dirty secret. “The plague. The land.” The figure gazed at a different monitor. After a few clicks and strokes, another hack into a secure database with a password recently earned after a respectful bribe, a police report from none other than the Magnasanti megacity police commissioner, George Clemmins, flashed on screen. It outlined a few facts, including several officers that were now under investigation for criminal corruption. Bribery, racketeering, racial discrimination, sexual harassment, the usual. Nothing unique in Magnasanti, the city of sin. Except for those rumored new Magnasanti arrivals coming in a few weeks. Sapient equines. Magic users. Applejack and Fluttershy. A pair of creatures as absolutely absurd as they were discomfortingly real. “The musket. The rifle. The rocket. Magic.” The figure chuckled merrily. Ponies. In his wildest dreams, he would have never guessed, let alone pondered the idea, that ponies would be coming into his domain. “Ourselves.” The figure opened up a tab on one of his many monitors. White text flashed across the screen. Securing network crosscom: 08% Securing network crosscom: 18% Securing network crosscom: 22% Securing network crosscom: 25% Securing network crosscom: 39% Securing network crosscom: 45% Securing network crosscom: 56% Securing network crosscom: 67% Securing network crosscom: 74% Securing network crosscom: 79% Securing network crosscom: 82% Securing network crosscom: 96% Securing network crosscom: 100% Retrieving contacts... Handshaking... Contact established with user: King Kludge A chat window opened. The blank blue background was momentarily empty, but a single line of white text appeared before the figure could do anything. King Kludge: Shit, friend. U’ve been quiet for months. I was beginning 2 think you got iced. After a few more clicks, the figure replied with his own text. DaemonJack: I’m like a cockroach; hard to kill, gets everywhere. Heard anything on OrC. Op.? King Kludge: Nothing of note. Should I have? DaemonJack: Not sure. Working on a hunch. Thinking there might be some dirty laundry worth snooping around for. King Kludge: Kinda busy with the NOMAD guys. I’ll look when I can. Anyway, heard about the OrC. Op passengers coming in a few weeks? It was “DaemonJack’s” turn to be surprised. DaemonJack: Not a peep. King Kludge: A booked landing craft will have a small armada of security escorting it to Magnasanti. I don’t know what white collar jerkass, snot-nosed ambassador, or tightass is heading that way in such force, but they’ve tripled security on the ship alone and that’s not counting the CSS security personnel escorting them. The underworld is whispering some of those ponies are coming. Something about them being national heroes or some shit. No idea why they want to go to your hellhole of a city. That got his attention and he shoved the potential OrC Op. contraband aside for later. Was it possible this Applejack and Fluttershy were coming to Magnasanti on board an OrC Op. jumpship? Why a corporate ship that specialized in agrarian development and research? If they were heroes, why not a diplomatic luxury cruiser? DaemonJack: I’ll look into it. Later, Kludge. King Kludge: See ya later, hode. --King Kludge has disconnected-- DaemonJack: The fuck does hode mean? The window shut down. For a moment, everything was quiet. What work the figure had been performing so vigorously was cast aside as he delved into his own thoughts. “But they’re all wrong,” he continued to say to the empty room. “It’s knowledge. The one thing that everyone always seeks, and of which they can never get enough. Money talks and power destroys, but nothing rivals the strength of information. Perhaps some little civilian shit wants to obtain a leg-up on his perceived enemies, or maybe a military spy has been bought by the enemy, or some random asshole just wants to get ahead in life at the price of his companions. Everyone needs to know something. It’s just a matter of finding out what it is. “I am the purveyor of knowledge. I am its collector, its keeper until its time to be shared comes.” The figure rose from his languor and moved from keyboard to keyboard, motion-sensitive interface to interface, hunting for more information. A virtual newspaper clipping showed a picture above the heading: SOVEREIGN MAGIC USERS JOIN ALLIANCE RANKS The picture was that of a man bearing the rank of vice admiral bowing in respect to a trio of horses. One possessed fur not unlike snow reflecting sunlight across the Siberian taiga. Perhaps the most startling aspect about her was a mane that seemed to billow in some nonexistent wind, as the marshal seemed unruffled by any such gusts. Or maybe it was due to her being at least a foot taller than the human, or her slender, compact form that hinted at the fairer sex and graceful facial features that declared a shrewd mind hid behind those eyes. The remaining pair were similar to, if shorter than, the mare. One had fur of a deep cobalt blue and a mane not dissimilar to that of a field of stars. It too seemed to dance in a false wind. The third companion lacked the ephemeral mane, but her perfectly groomed gold and violet locks hugged her youthful face. “So now the keeper of the keys finds himself capable of being at the heart of it all, at the very core of discovery and knowledge. You want to get into bed with me? You’re not the first to clamor for my attention. You will certainly not be the last, but, admittedly, none have one-upped the competition as well as you. It makes me wonder if you truly know what you are getting yourself into by asking for my help. Most don’t, but I can’t help but entertain the idea you do. Maybe, just maybe, I can stop being so fucking bored.” The figure pulled up yet another set of images, this one focused primarily around a single lavender unicorn. The first was the unicorn as a child alongside a light gray mare and blue stallion, likely her parents. The next was of some graduate class about the same mare. The figure continued to cycle through the images, his mind lost in his own contemplations and strange soliloquy. “Out of all the vices I could have obtained, all the faults, my greatest heel happens to be myself. I have access to untold secrets, I have information that can bring killers and kings to their knees, yet despite how amusing the prospects can be, despite how fun it is to fuck with the masses and misguided retards, it’s just... a distraction. A treatment, not a cure.” The figure clicked on a small envelope in the corner with a glowing red notification. A short message popped up on screen, a status report for his eyes only. Jack, Observation of Attis and Narcissus is ongoing. Continuing with starting mission. Initial suspicions about Narcissus are in question, but not dismissed. Possibly wears the Mask of Janus. Attis is inconsequential. It is not advised to separate them. As anticipated, Alice will venture down the rabbit hole. It is up to the Mad Hatter if he wishes to join her. The March Hare and Dormouse will accompany her. No word as to the thoughts of the Queen of Hearts or Caterpillar. Cheshire Cat is still a wild card and unpredictable. Awaiting orders. Awaiting payment. ~Tinman No matter how skilled a hacker may be, an information network pays the real dividends when a little simple legwork from hired help is involved. The figure sighed, closed the message, and pulled up several financial reports, including bank transactions. His personal bank balance, even in the single account he currently had open on screen, held more zeroes than most would ever see in their entire life. A far from insignificant amount drained itself and added onto one representing that of the so called “Tinman”. “And now the siren comes to me and sings her silly song. What does this sinner desire, my dear? An escape. I am good, devilishly good, at what I do, but my skill counts for nothing if it is never tested, never pushed to its limits. All these cocksuckers want me to do their dirty work, which I am all too happy to do with the proper payment. Hack this, provide support for that, turn off the alarm here, tell me this piece of information, all of that crap. I’m happy to do so, but I can't help but want... more. Something new. “I am stagnating. I hold all the weapons and power one could ever ask for, and it means nothing to me. I suppose that’s the trick, the grand universal prank only achieved when the wheel of time turns and we finally reach our end. We are all worthless in the grand scheme of things. There is no god to pray to, no people that you can forever trust, no comfort to find within weapons, each other, or even immortal alien horses with wings and horns. Nothing is permanent, not even the thrones in heaven or hell. “‘What is my purpose?’ It’s the ultimate prank. The answer to the ultimate question is that there was never a question to begin with.” The figure halted his lament before bringing up a final still picture on screen. Six mares hugged each other as they posed for a photo. Six friends, bound together in one of the strongest and most misguided bonds one could possess. They all looked so happy, so carefree. “It makes me wonder how they did it, how they managed to delude themselves so far. Applejack. Fluttershy. Pinkie. Rarity. Rainbow. Twilight. Friendship harder than stone, stronger than steel. We’ll see how far they can bend before they break. It’s not safe out here in the real world, unshielded from Eden. I suppose they will regress into their basic and primal instincts, just like everyone else. Lucifer fell from grace. They will be no different.” He sighed, thinking deeply on what he said and what still needed to be spoken. “I suppose only time will tell how far they will fall. Still, that doesn’t discount how important a role these six will play in events to come. Important to be sure, but as to how, not even my eyes can see. I suppose that does not matter; I have the opportunity to see for myself. How much will they alter our way of life? How far will they destabilize the natural order of things? “And I get to be at the center of it all,” he cooed softly. “Finally, someone gets to stir up shit across the board. The politicians jockeying for power, penthouse corporate execs dancing in the clouds, the gutter scum working in the shadows, and those like me. We’re not going to be the same after this. Our way of life is going to burn, and be rebuilt only for the fires of hell to come rolling in again. Take everything, my little ponies. Take it all. Meet us, greet us, work with us, work against us... No matter what, nothing will be the same after this. “I can’t wait to see it.” The figure turned away from the monitors with a squeak of unoiled chair hinges. The dark room was invisible to his eyes after looking at the bright screens for so long. The room was still empty of life, and the red light above the door told him it was still securely closed and the green light of an undetonated explosive charge told him no one tried to hack the door’s maglock. The figure smiled, a maniacal toothy grin that seemed to glow in the pale light against his black, impossible-to-describe silhouette. “I take it you want an answer, Miss Turmoil?” A quartet of knocks reverberated from the other side of the door. “I will give you one. The deal? I accept.” For chapter commentary and my ramblings, visit my page HERE Chapter Commentary: LINK Edited by: Genesis1212, Reader Review, Midnight Spark, Prereader: Softy8088, The Synn Lofsvard