//------------------------------// // The Other Equestrian. // Story: Where the Monsters Live. // by Hopefullygoodgrammar //------------------------------// The early sun had just begun to eat away at the cold darkness of night when Phillip Decker returned to his office. He was exhausted, but he managed to get into the building without incurring the many questions his fellow colleagues would have posed at they laid eyes on his disheveled hair, his wrinkled coat and his sweat-moistened brow. Decker was glad of their absence. He had built a respectable image, one as a cool, collected pillar of moral fortitude; A rock amidst a tempestuous sea. But he was shaken, oh yes, he- for all his stoicism-was shaken. Shaken by what he’s seen in the theater two hours previously. His night had started off as well as could be hoped: He had met a young woman at a dimly-lit dive bar, had selected her from amidst the usual assortment of greasy bikers with hollow heads and whores with fake shells to hide their hollow cores. Her name had been Sheryl Anne and she was, as he had suspected, a trashy and exasperating waste of his efforts. She was one of those women who never shut up about “Mr. Right” and clung tightly to the memories of failed trysts past as though they could protect her from future heartbreak. It took him no less than thirty minutes for him to convince her that he was “The One”. After that it was only a matter of finding the right location to begin his work. Luckily for him, the neighborhood had the dual benefit of having both a wide array of abandoned and dark places, and a populace who had become desensitized to the sounds of screaming. So, he had liquored her up, steered her into a dark alleyway behind an old theater, and had donned The Mask under the pretense of “ getting into shenanigans” with her. And once the Mask was on, the whole world opened up. He had always considered the face that he had been born with to be a mask, a facade to conceal what was truly beneath the surface. It had been a few years into his great work when he, after a particularly rewarding hunt, had first thought of designing the face that he knew to be truly his own. And so he had. Spending hours sewing the headform from the old linen, and attaching the zipper and the buttons. He hadn’t even needed to draw it or visualize it, the design seemed to come to him like a vision. And it that wasn’t some kind of sign, a sign that he should continue his work, then he didn’t know what was. He had dedicated decades to eradicating the breeders, him and the Mask. Warriors whose goal was to eradicate the filthy, worthless bottom-feeders who fed off of society like dogs at their mother’s teats. Fat ones, thin ones, gay ones, straight ones, blacks and whites and every other spectrum of skin color. They were all equally disgusting in his eyes, all equally worthy of extinction. And he had carried out his work as normal, settling into a rote. But then he had seen the thing in the theater. A creature with black legs that were riddled with bloodless holes, a torso that was bloated and twisted into a form much like the legs with no breasts or navel to speak of. It was atrocious, a freak unlike anything that he had ever seen before, not even in his texts on the rarest of birth deformities. But the face….the face had been familiar to him. He had seen those unnaturally bright green eyes, the thin, hard lips that seemed more at home in a cold smirk, the small nose and the paper-white skin. It was Chrissi. No, not Chrissi. He thought, Chrysalis. That’s what she had called herself when she was first brought here. When she went on those long rants about being a...a “changeling”, a shapeshifter from some magical land called “Equestria”. After checking her room and finding it empty, Decker made his way into his office, went to his desk and sat down heavily, his hand straying to the Mask, which rested in his pocket. “Equestria...E-kwest-ryah...Ee-Quest-Reah.” he said, drawing the word out and running it through his teeth. Had it been any other doctor who had been given Chrysalis’ case, they might have utterly dismissed her stories and would have, in fact, not allowed her ramblings to distract from their personal lives. But Decker had heard the name before. Several years before, in fact, when he had first come to the facility. He had heard of Equestria and its magic and the strange, equine inhabitants that peopled it before, from a man who had appeared from nowhere and who bore a similarly strange name, a name that had stuck with him ever since he had heard it from the man himself, refusing the usual title of John Doe to find a foothold. The man couldn’t have have recounted his stories to Chrysalis, for he had appeared several years earlier and, after he had stabbed a nurse to death with a pencil, had been rotting away in a far-off section of the facility amidst the rest of the babbling, homicidal freaks who were deemed too dangerous for the standard living conditions. And Chrysalis couldn’t have talked to him, even if she had bothered to explore her temporary home in her time there, she had been too closely watched to have gone within a few feet of the man. No, there was something altogether different happening and, after having witnessed what he had, he knew that their tales were much more than just the construction of a deranged psyche and he was curious now, to see how far the rabbit hole went. Decker stood up, opened a drawer on his desk and removed a large set of keys. Then, with a heart hammering with excitement, he made his way down into the depths of the facility, where the Man-Who-Was-Not-John-Doe waited. Decker looked at the thin, wasted man sitting in the cell. His long black hair hung like a curtain over his face and his skin was an unnatural shade of gray that most of the staff had chalked up as the result of some kind of nutrient deficiency, although the man had proven himself capable of incredible strength and speed when he wished, making most illnesses of that type unlikely. Most of Decker’s associates told him that it was this strength that kept them away, but Decker knew that they were lying. They were afraid of his teeth and the callously violent actions that he was capable of performing and the strange things that he said or mentioned in passing- And his eyes… Decker hadn’t ever seen another human with eyes like those of the man’s. Eyes which were venomous green and dark purple. Eyes with slitted pupils, like the eyes of a reptile. Eyes that, even now, probed Decker from under the long, greasy hair. “What do you want, human?” asked the Man-Who-Was-Not-John-Doe. Decker noted that the man’s voice was as deep and rich as it had been. The years had not rendered the voice tired and rusty as they did most other inmates, nor had it muted the undercurrent of menace that slithered behind his words. Decker inhaled through his nose and readies his tongue before saying, “Hello, Sombra.” Sombra regarded Decker with an air of regal boredom, one which seemed to enhance his gauntness, making him look hungry on top of everything. “And you are-?” “Phillip Decker, I’m a psychiatrist at this facility.” “I see.” said Sombra, half-closing his eyes and adopting a bored expression, “Then I suppose that you’re here to...analyze me, correct?” “No,” said Decker with a shake of his head, “I’m here because I met someone who shares your….belief in Equestria.” Sombra was silent for a moment, then he said, “Continue.” Decker’s eye twitched slightly in annoyance at the command, but he continued regardless. “This individual spoke of many of the same things that you did before you were transferred to this place-” “Ah yes, that obnoxious little mule who kept sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong; It was a genuine pleasure to see her bleed.” interrupted Sombra, smiling to show off the sharp points of his gleaming teeth. Decker felt his mouth curl upwards in a smile, it had been quite a pleasurable sight. Sombra seemed to notice the smile, for he frowned quickly, before a far more open sneer slithered across his thin lips. “I take it you were there to see my handiwork?” he asked slyly. Decker allowed himself a short chuckle before replying, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. It takes a certain type of mind to figure out how to spill the most blood, cause the most pain and prolong both for as long as possible. I applaud your expertise.” He gave a mock-bow and Sombra chuckled deep in his throat, “I thought I smelled blood on you, Doctor Decker. Am I to assume that you’re of a similar mindset to myself?” “It depends…” “Depends on what?” Decker smiled, “It depends on whether or not I’m feeling particularly disgusted with the world around me.” Sombra lifted his head and Decker could see the unnatural eyes glinting from behind the hair like silver coins. “This world is full of human refuse, walking cancer, Breeders, as I like to call them. They rip and they tear and they take from this world. They’re rapists of culture and of status, and they whine and moan and give excuses about poor health or poor upbringing. They all need-” “A guiding hand?” suggested Sombra. “Yes.” said Decker, then, making a connection, asked, “Aren’t you a king?” Sombra’s already dark features darkened more as he replied, “Yes, or rather, I was a king. I ruled the Crystal Empire with an iron hoof, buck it! And then those two princesses came and ended my reign!” Decker, seeing a potential opening, asked, “Were these princesses named Celestia and Luna, by chance?” Sombra nodded, “Aye, they were alicorn sisters who controlled the sun and moon. They ruled over their subjects fairly….maybe a bit too fairly. They waged war on me under the pretense of ‘saving their little ponies’. They even had the utter gall to call me a tyrant!” Decker nodded, “I see. So, if you’re from Equestria, then how did you end up here?” Sombra laughed bitterly, “The Crystal Heart was far more….cruel than the Elements of Harmony. Every single object that has been made by those two or any of their supporters tend to take actions that are not lethal. They turn livings beings into stone, or banish them to parts unknown….I suppose the Crystal Heart saw fit to send me here or all places, where the people are as smart as I, but where magic is a myth.” He ran a thin hand through his hair and sighed, “All the things which you humans have produced-” he motioned to a pile of mouldering books at the edge of his cot, “-bombs, guns, toxic gas, grenades. New ways to make war, ways that would leave those pathetic ponies at my mercy...and I cannot even bring any back because there’s no bucking magic!” His voice rose to a roar and Decker’s eyes widened as he watched Sombra’s eyes begin to glow from within. “I could tear their cities to pieces and leave them wallowing in their own fear as I took their thrones. I would slaughter those wretched Bearers and torture their friends- No! Even better, I would make their leader, Twilight Sparkle, watch as I skinned and ate the little reptile who dared to use that blasted heart on me!” Sombra rose to his feet, his eyes trailing faint wisps of smoke as he continued. “I was the Lord of Fear, the King of an empire, the master of dark magic and those little brats overthrew me and placed one of their princesses’ vile spawn upon my throne!” The cell that Sombra was in began to tremble, flecks of dust and plaster began to fall from the ceiling as the madman vented his wrath. “I AM King Sombra, the first and the only! I WILL return to Equestria if it takes me a lifetime and, when I do, the streets of every city and every town shall run red with blood! I will eat their children and drink from their skulls! I will-” Sombra opened his eyes, which were now glowing like twin suns, and looked at the still-shaking room with wonderment and almost childlike excitement. “Of course!” He crowed, “That’s what controls my magic here! My anger, of course it would be my anger, hahaha!” Sombra turned and began to advance towards the cell door. Decker backed away as the door handle was surrounded by a glowing purple light that flickered and sparked. As he watched, the handle dissolved like wax under a flame. The door opened and Sombra stepped out, his mouth sneering and his eyes burning. “Now-” said Sombra, taking several slow steps towards Decker, who was rooted to the spot, “What was it you wanted of me?” Decker, his mind buzzing with a thousand questions and teetering dangerously on the brink of a total psychotic break, asked in a trembling voice, “Wh-what? You...you mean you won’t kill me?” Sombra smiled toothily at the man, “No, I think you might be of use to me. You and I are very much alike. But I know that you didn’t come down here to have a little chat. So what did you want, hm?” Decker swallowed once, twice, then said, “D-did you know a woman named Chrysalis?” Sombra narrowed his eyes, the unholy light within flaring up, “Where did you hear that name?” Decker hastily explained to him about Chrysalis and the things which she had talked about, as well as what he had seen in the theater. Sombra was quiet throughout, never once interrupting, never once making a sound. When Decker had finished, he sighed and said, “I know Chrysalis, she committed a grave offence towards me long ago.” “I see.” said Decker, his composure slowly returning, “Can you find her? Is there any place that she might have gone?” Sombra shook his head, “As much as it pains me to say it, but I haven’t a clue. If she’s here alone, as you said, then that means that her hive has fallen apart in her absence, and a changeling ruler who allows her hive to descend into chaos as she has done will seek death as recompense for their actions, as is their law.” He looked at Decker and his gaze was cold, “You said that she was plagued by strange dreams a few weeks before she fled. What were they about? Did she tell you?” Decker nodded, “Yes, she told me. Her dreams were of a place called Midian. A place where her sins could be forgiven.” Sombra raised his brows, “I see. Then, if she believes this...’Midian’ to be real, then maybe there is a way to find her. Do you have anything that belonged to her? A brush, a piece of jewelry? Old clothes?” Decker thought a moment, then he nodded, “She left most of her things behind when she ran away. Most of it looks like she found it in the trash, so most of it has been thrown away, but some of her clothes and a hairbrush were kept on the off chance that someone brings her back.” Sombra nodded, “Take me to these things of hers and I’ll see what can be done.” Decker turned and began his trek to the other side of the building, where he had kept Chrysalis’ things. As they walked, Decker imagined all of the sights that Sombra would show him, all the carnage and the death. Sombra might just be the associate that I need if I am to continue the Hunt. He thought.With his help I can do far more than just chip away at their numbers, I can drag every filthy Breeder in this world, kicking and screaming, to the slaughter. Decker smiled and knew that the Mask was smiling with him.