//------------------------------// // 03 - Cornered // Story: Outsider's Game: Night King // by Bluecho //------------------------------// Ch. 3 - Cornered August 1950 “Good work today, Dougal. We couldn't have done it without you.” Dougal Dempsey craned his neck back, looking to the horizon and the approaching dusk. A smile crept to his face, soaking the warm rays of the sun. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson. Lovely day, isn't it?” “It sure is, my boy,” said Johnson, shading his eyes. A glint of light bounced off his naked scalp. He carried his briefcase out the door, the two men walking to the office parking lot. “Think I'll catch a drink with a few buddies of mine. Care to join me?” “Love to, Mr. Johnson,” Dougal said, his own briefcase swinging along, “but I'm meeting my girl for dinner.” “Ooh! What's the lucky lady's name?” Johnson said, grinning. “Rebecca. We're eating at that new Greek restaurant.” “Oh, I've seen that place. Say, have your parents met her yet?” “My mother has,” Dougal said. He sighed, “Dad's not with use anymore.” “I'm sorry, son, I didn't know.” Mr. Johnson frowned. “It's alright.” “If you don't mind me asking, how did he go? The war?” “No,” Dougal said, “cancer. Lung cancer.” “Well...” Mr. Johnson stopped walking, turning to face his young employee. “I'm sure your dad would be proud to see you now. You've made good for yourself, and stand to go a lot farther still.” “Thank you, Mr. Johnson. That really means a lot.” He reached out and shook his boss's hand. “See you on Monday?” “Bright and early!” the boss said, inclining his head. Disengaging, Dougal found his parked Crosley station wagon, and entered. As he combed his raven hair back, he was watched from afar by a man in a gray suit and hat. The man noted the man's license plate, scrawling it under the name “Dougal Dempsey” on a featureless notepad. He further jotted “new Greek restaurant – dinner with girlfriend” beneath it. As Dougal sped away, the figure was nowhere to be seen. Present “Hey Princess! So glad you could make it!” Bounding to the door, Cheese Sandwich – clad in a military uniform as a costume – grabbed Princess Luna's forehooves and shook them vigorously. His curly locks bounced up and down in time with his shakes. His smile broader than a battleaxe. “He he...yes, thank you for having me,” Luna said, grinning. “...you...are the host?” “Well no, but I organized the shindig,” Cheese said, shrugging. “The mayor is...somewhere around here. I'll try to find him.” “Before you do, good sir, are there...party games?” “Are there!” Cheese cheered, face lighting up even more. He pointed inward, towards a crowd of ponies assembled to one side. “Over here, we've got everything! Spider throw, pin the tail on the manticore, bobbing for apples. We've got-” “Vampire!” “Well, I don't think we have any vampires,” Cheese Sandwich said, rubbing his chin. “Except your assistant there, Princess. Am I right, Jeeves?” “Quite,” said Kibitz, rolling his eyes. “I don't know if we have any vampire themed games, though,” Cheese continued, tapping his head. He pulled out a rubber chicken, clad in army fatigues. “Boneless 2, you know if I came up with any...” “VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE!” The crowd of disguised ponies parted hard, allowing an earth pony mare run through. Her short mane of messy hair was matted with sweat. She wore a black and blue jacket, and sported a pair of red framed glasses. “Please help! Vampire!” She fell to the ground before Princess Luna, tears running down her face. Luna stepped forward, leaning down. “What's wrong, child? What's this about a vampire?” “Oh, I'm sure it's some kind of prank, your highness,” said Kibitz. “It IS Nightmare Night. One cannot take such things ser-” “Silence, Kibitz!” Luna commanded, put a hoof softly on the frightened mare's back. “A vampire? Are you sure, miss?” The mare nodded, runny eyeliner trailing down her face. “I saw it. In the bathroom. It was feeding off my friends!” She sat up, pointing towards the back of the room. “Over there!” Through the parted crowd, across the floor of town hall, under a wreath of bat decorations, Luna spotted it. A bipedal creature, clad in black, with a purple shirt. Hair of pitch. With red running from its mouth. Upon noticing all the eyes upon it, the figure scrambled back, retreating back into the secluded hallway. The diarch of the moon scowled. “Everypony remain calm. I will deal with this myself.” “Your highness!” cried Kibitz in confusion. Luna's wings unfurled. “Not now, Kibitz!” She took to the air, flying forward. Shit! Dougal Dempsey bolted down the hall, dashing past a pair of amorous ponies. Their lips so locked, they attention so devoted to each other. It was easy to sneak past them the first time, and they remained completely oblivious even as Dougal ran by. If only the rest of the ponies were as inattentive. He skidded at the door and rushed back into the bathroom. Took two steps before he tripped over the prone body of the fat pegasus. “Damnit!” he choked, scrambling to his feet. Looking down, Dougal took a precious second to debate whether he should – or even could – lick closed the fat one's neck wounds before he left. He shook his head, running towards the window. He planted a foot on the toilet seat before he heard the noise. “THOU SHALT NOT ESCAPE ME, MONSTER!” Jaw agape, the vampire yanked the window open. Glass shattered against the wall from the force, shards clattering to the floor. He ducked his head through, then both arms. He had most of his upper body through the opening before he felt some force tugging on his leg. “WE SAID-” “Gah!” Dougal cried, legs flying out from under him and pulling. “THOU SHALT NOT-” Wrenching backwards, the back of Dougal's head hit the window frame. “Ack! Hiiiiisssss ah! AH!” “ESCAPE!” Dougal flew legs first back into the bathroom, then flew into the opposite wall. He slammed into the mirror, smashing it. “Gah!” He flopped hard to the ground, a web of cracks radiating from where he struck the mirror. He scrambled to his hands and feet. Dougal looked up. “Thou shalt pay for thy...a human?” Luna said, hesitating a moment. A confused expression played over her face. She studied him wearily. Dougal stared back, taking her in. A pony greater and grander than any he'd seen to that moment. More a horse indeed, though sporting a navy blue mane. Gifted with both wings – unfurled and bearing her aloft – and a horn – glowing with an aura so strong as to be visible with Dougal's unmodified sight. Her mane was glorious, like the twinkling of the night sky. It flowed with unnatural beauty. It was so...nostalgic. Familiar. Upon the pony's head was a dark crown. The Night Royal herself, Princess Luna. It then occurred to Dougal: does she know of humans? The mare regained her resolve, her horn glowing larger. “It matters not!” A great sword materialized in the air, glowing blue. It pulled back and up, high above her head. No time for mysteries, Dougal thought. He jumped to the side, feeling the vibrations in the ground and the rush of wind in the air when the sword sliced down behind him. Scrambling quickly, he reached the prone form of the pegasus and lifted her bodily into his arms. With barely a pause, Dougal tossed the pony at the Princess. “Hey!” Luna said, her forelegs catching the pegasus. She sank to the ground under the new weight, taking care as not to drop her. “Come back!” Dougal was already out the door, running full tilt back to the main room. Stray strands of raven hair flopped over his face, and he brushed them aside. He passed the pair of kissing ponies, undisturbed from their congress. “GET BACK HERE!” The cainite continued running, sparing nary a glance to the voice following behind. He had to get out, and the main hall was the only way. Assuming no ponies were foolish enough to get in his way, it would be a simple manner of rushing out the front door. Dougal would be known by very many witnesses – a deplorable lapse in secrecy no self-respecting kindred would abide – but he could escape to the outside. From there, it would be a matter of finding a dark place to hide. If he had to, he might be able to run all the way back to the cave for shelter. ...but to what end? Certainly he could get away, but if he lost the locals, what then? November 1950 “Hand over your wallet!” Sweat broke out on Dougal's face. His eyes roved over the gleaming metal of the revolver. He raised his hands, briefcase hanging from one hand. “Alright, alright. Easy,” he said, gulping. Slowly, he patted his trousers, fishing out the wallet. Dougal looked to the mugger. The man had an aged cap pushed low, a salt-and-pepper five o'clock shadow on his chin. Perhaps it was the setting sun, or some trick of the buildings surrounding him, but Dougal couldn't get a good look at the man's face. The shadows fell too deeply over his features. Dougal held up his wallet, offering it. “I don't want any trouble.” The mugger snatched the wallet with his free hand, then looked down to the briefcase at Dougal's side. “I'll be having that case too, if you don't mind.” Dougal blinked. “What?” “Did I stutter, pal?” said the man, scowling. “I said hand over the briefcase.” The muzzle of the firearm rose, pointing toward the space between Dougal's eyes. “Now.” He really couldn't do that. “W-what? Why?” “Now.” The mugger drew back the revolver hammer. Six months of work. Important reports – detailed notes. All that was needed the next day; the culmination of all that work. Gleaming sweat rolled down Dougal's brow. He extended the briefcase. The mugger pocketed Dougal's wallet, then extended his hand to take the case. Dougal lunged for the gun, seizing the man's wrist and pushing it up. “Raaah!” he growled, drawing his other arm back and swinging with the briefcase. Crack! Birds scattered in the distance, smoke billowing from the upturned muzzle. The briefcase slammed over the mugger's head. “Gaah!” the man said, gritting his teeth. “Son of a-” He batted the briefcase away, his free hand balled into a fist. Dougal drew back again, then swung his case down on the man's gun arm. The revolver fell from sweat fingers and clattered to the ground. Dougal Dempsey wasn't going to let all his work go to waste. Not by some punk with a gun. Not... A fist smacked Dougal in the eye. His vision swam. He staggered back, both hands lost their grip. “Rrrrraaaagh!” The mugger pounced Dougal, seizing him by the shirt with both hands. With one eye, Dougal saw the man's face: fierce, eyes alight with burning fire. The shadows fell away, revealing a snarling animal. A frayed wire, set to sparking. Dougal was half pushed, half carried several feet back, slammed against a brick wall. “Aaagh!” Dougal yelped for the force of the rough treatment. Powerful fists pressed against his chest. Hot, foul breath cascaded over his neck. It smelled like blood. The mugger pulled back, skin grown tight on his bright red face. “Gragh!” he roared, pushing Dougal again against the masonry. Dougal thought, so strong! Who is this guy? Not content with rough treatment, the mugger pulled a tight fist back. His face grimaced, hand shaking. Then, perhaps he thought better of it, and the mugger let his fist drop. His teeth retreated behind his lips, which formed into a deep frown. “Gah!” He threw Dougal away, letting him tumble to the ground. “Oof! Ach!” Dougal cried, rolling over to his stomach. The mugger stepped away, leaning down and snatching up his firearm and the briefcase. “Bastard,” he said, muttering under his breath. “Ought 'ta kill you...” He cast one sidelong glance at Dougal. Dougal looked up, squinting past one black eye. Face once again cast in shadow, the mugger began walking away. “Idiot.” He dashed, rounding a corner out of sight. The dejected businessman groaned, hand outstretched towards the retreating figure. “...ugh...” he said, hauling himself to his knees. “...d-damn...dammit...” Dougal planted his hand on a knee and pushed to a standing position. Swaying, he rubbed his sore face. “Damn...” He looked towards the parking lot nearby, spotting his car. He took two weary steps before stopping. He looked to the office building. Not giving up. He wasn't going to let it end like that. Wasn't going to come into work tomorrow empty handed. Dougal trudged back to the office. Despite the janitorial staff's objections, he worked all night. Present “So are doing something this weeken- HEY!” Dougal burst from the hallway, knocking over party guests with a casual shove. His eyes darted back and forth. He saw progressively more large eyes turn back towards him, but he ignored them. Tables were assembled throughout the crowded town hall, strewn with half-supped beverages or crumb-covered plates. Tablecloths stood out in alternating black and orange, better to match the decorations tacked to walls or hanging between support beams. A glittering disco ball spun lazily from the ceiling, casting little dots of light over the dimly lit crowd. There. Gloomy as it was, Dougal could see it perfectly: the front door. “CEASE THY RUNNING! THOU SHALT NOT ESCAPE!” Dougal bolted for the door, ducking and squeezing around clumps of ponies. He kept low, and many ponies not already aware of his presence only noted his strangeness as he passed. Have to get away, he thought, jumping over one pony like the track hurdles from his youth. It's so close. I'm so close. “Sweet Celestia what is that!?” cried someone from the crowd. “It's the vampire! It's here!” Damnation, Dougal thought, stopping in front of a particularly large wall of meat. He swayed back and forth, trying to find an opening. Beyond the throng, the way cleared out to the entrance. Get out of the way! “WHERE IS THE BEAST!?” came a booming voice from behind. “Hrrrr!” Dougal growled. Thrusting his hands into the mass of ponies, he swung his arms wide. He pushed the costumed creatures forcefully from his path, eliciting cries of confusion. “What the- HEY!” “Watch it buddy, or I'll...I'll...oh dear...” Dougal forced his way through, leaving gasping party guests in his wake. Some shuddered terribly at the touch of his hands. “Eeeeek!” The vampire's lips turned up into a grin. He dashed towards the double doors, one slightly ajar. Twing! Fwoosh! The floor tiles twinkled briefly. Then an enormous wall of sapphire flames erupted in front of the door, barring the way. “Haah!” Dougal cried, screeching to a halt. His arms flailed wide, trying to stop himself tipping over. He staggered back, falling on his bottom. “Aaaaash!” he hissed, turning over and scrambling back on all fours. His eyes stared into that inferno. Muscles shook all over. “THE PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT SHALT NOT ALLOW THEE TO ESCAPE!” Luna said, flying above the crowd and hovering above her quarry. Her great wings flapped heavily, creating gusts of wind with every beat. “That's it!” A shaking mare – the one who escaped earlier, Dougal noticed – pointed a hoof towards him. She stood safely surrounded by burlier, concerned stallions, including a mustached gentlepony(?) in an insulting Dracula cape. “That's the v-vampire! The one who h-hurt m-my friends!” “GUARDS!” Luna bellowed, “FALL ON ME!” In the periphery of Dougal's view, he could see scattered uniformed ponies converge on him. Two flanked the front door. Looking over his shoulder, he saw another two jump in front of the entrance to the hallway he entered from, casually herding frightened guests into it. All were dark like the night he loved so, with identical yellow eyes and bat-like armor. The vampire crouched low, eyes darting fretfully around. The noose was forming around his neck. March 1951 “Honey, I'm ho-” “How dare you!” A book flew into Dougal's face, smacking spine-first against his forehead. “Ah! What was that for?” he cried, clutching his head. Rebecca strode forward, hand clutching a bright red telephone. “I got a call today, Dougal,” she said, holding up the Bakelite receiver. “It was some woman named Cynthia. Ring any bells?” She paused, studying his face. “No? Well, she knew you. Said she had a 'really fun night' last week.” Rebecca scowled, fingers clutching the receiver. “Care to explain yourself?” “Cynthia? I don't...Rebecca, honey, I don't know any-” “Have you been cheating on me, Dougal? Have you been seeing some...floozy behind my back!?” Rebecca spat the words out. A golden strand of hair fell over her face. “N-no!” Dougal said, throwing his hands up. “I'm not! Baby, it's a lie! I would never-” “Save it, mister!” she barked, jabbing the phone receiver at him. In a fit of anger, she grimaced and threw the phone to the ground. Marooned plastic shattered against the hardwood floor, a terrible crash ringing out. Pieces flew in every direction. The woman grasped at her finger, wrenching off her engagement ring. This too she let drop, clattering noisily on the ground. She walked right past Dougal, who stared gobsmacked at the bouncing jewelry. “...it's...it's not...I didn't...” he mumbled quietly to himself. Dougal kept his eyes on the floor, seeing the ring settled in the shadow cast by the sun behind his stooped back. Present Windows? Too small, and off the ground. Couldn't squeeze through without being caught and dragged back inside. Back through the hallway? Guards would slow him down. Enough to make him a sitting duck. Burst through the wall? No idea what these creatures consider proper municipal building material. Either way, it would take too much time. Out the front door? And brave the fire? It would take him precious seconds to work up the courage, if he could at all. Just the thought sent chills up his spine. Plus, the fire was probably magical. Didn't even need aura vision to see that. Disciplines? “SURRENDER, FOUL BEAST!” Dougal looked around frantically. The party guests, sensing his predatory nature if nothing else, backed away heavily. Vast swaths of the dance floor were yielded by the shivering wretches. All save one oblivious mare in the middle. “Hey guys...where are you going?” the mare said, a drink in her hoof, a faraway look in her eyes, slowly gaining focus. She looked at the retreating herd. “What are you all staring...at...” She turned around. Her eyes met Dougal's. Her pupils shrank. “...uh...” Dougal dashed at her. “AAAAAGH!” the mare screamed, a long arm coiling around her neck. Her hooves left the floor, being carried bodily into the room. Cold hands seized her, sapping the heat from her skin. “No no no no no!” “STOP!” Luna cried, her ferocious expression giving way to fear. “LEAVE THAT INNOCENT PONY ALONE!” She flapped forward, ready to follow. “Raargh!” Dougal growled, swinging his free arm wide at the approaching royal. He bore his fangs, his face scrunched with animal fury. “Ge-” “WAIT!” Dougal wanted to tell them to get back, but was pelted in the face with...something. Something...squeaky. Everyone stopped. The princess touched down, sliding to a halt. The guards, advanced now, also halted. The frantic crowd had hushed. The frightened hostage in the vampire's arms merely whimpered. Dougal blinked, then looked down. Flopping on the floor, squeaking as it bounced, was a yellow rubber chicken. “Good job, Boneless 2!” Cheese Sandwich – garbed in a mock military uniform – hopped from the quaking crowd and stood tall in front of the toy, just to Dougal's side. He stared intently at the vampire. Luna started, “...I...buh...citizen!” She extended a hoof. “It is too dangerous for-” “Now listen here, you...you...weirdo!” said Cheese. Dougal blinked. “I don't know who you are, where you're from, what you need,” Cheese continued, sternly, “as long as you...understand...one...thing.” He punctuated his point by jabbing a hoof at Dougal. His eyebrows curled down. “I'm the super party pony, here. My name is Cheese Sandwich. And I won't let any of these guests be roughly handled by some blood junkie!” Dougal raised a single eyebrow. He...he didn't rightly know how to feel at that moment. Cheese stepped even closer, rearing up so he could be as eye level with Dougal. He narrowed his peepers. “If you want a hostage...” He slapped his chest. “...take me, instead.” Blink. ...Dougal shrugged, then pushed the mare away. “Hey!” the mare said, stumbling away, to be caught by a bystander. Pouncing, Dougal wrapped his arms around the new pony's neck, holding him in front like a shield. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cheese Sandwich said, hooves clutching at the strong, cloth-covered arms that held him in a chin lock. “Ack! A little...a little tight, don't you think?” Dougal gave Cheese one look, then started backing away again, approaching a wall. Ponies behind him rushed to give the vampire room. Until finally his bottom bumped against the raised stage area. With his free hand, Dougal hauled them both up, backing up more. The band jumped – long having stopped playing their “tunes” - fearfully fled the stage, carrying their instruments with them. He didn't have proper claws – in retrospect learning such a basic trick would have been both easy and worth the time – but Dougal nonetheless pointed his bared nails at the hostage's throat. With luck they wouldn't know the difference. Cheese Sandwhich gulped. “Easy now, friend. Don't want to do anything...gulp...rash, right?” Sweat poured down his brow. He smelt of diary products. Dougal found it mildly disconcerting. Even if he could also smell the blood underneath. Could feel it pumping under the skin. “Give up, monster!” Luna said, taking to the air and hovering just beyond the lip of the stage. Her eyes were fixed upon Dougal. “There is nowhere left to run. Do not touch one hair upon that stallion's head...” Her eyes narrowed. “...or I swear upon all the stars in the sky I will reduce you to less than nothing.” Look hard left. Look hard right. Unfortunately the stage had no exits. No back stage. Really, it was just a raised area. A small speaking place for a small town. Dougal wasn't getting out here. “Is there a doctor in the house!?” Dougal looked over the crowd. From the hallway, a couple burly stallions hauled the limp forms of Dougal's victims. Their friend, tears running mascara streams down her face, crying out to anyone who would listen. “We need a doctor! Somepony help! My friends need medical attention!” A random unicorn pony dabbed a piece of fabric – torn from his costume it would seem – on the overweight pegasi's neck, trying to staunch the bleeding. A stray lock of black hair fell over Dougal's face. He swallowed. His sight wandered elsewhere. Weeping in the corner, his former hostage shook like a leaf, held by her friends. She choked out frightful sobs. Dougal's dead heart sank. He looked to the crowd. Dozens of fearful, staring eyes. How they cowered. How they trembled. It was in Dougal's nature – the nature of the animal pretending to be a man – to fight. To go kicking and clawing and biting, if it meant even the slightest chance to survival. To employ all the unholy powers vitae afforded him. He could do it. But...why? Cheese Sandwich sighed, though it came out more a muffled choke. “I...sure hope Boneless 2 will get along without me.” “A doctor! We need a doctor over here!” “Unhand that pony now, monster!” Dougal felt...very tired. He sighed. “Whup!” Cheese cried, falling to the ground. He rubbed his neck. As he scrambled away, he looked in confusion at the vampire. Dougal raised his hands over his head. “I surrender.” … Luna blinked. She looked down at the retreating Cheese Sandwich, who merely shrugged. She looked to the vampire. “...you what?” “I surrender,” Dougal said. With one hand, he brushed a lock of hair out of his face. Then, thinking on it, he used his hand to slick his hair entirely back again, to limited results. His hands returned to their upright position. “...you...I...” Luna said. Her mystical sword was raised above her head, ready to strike, but it wavered. Her eye...twitched. “...I don't...never before...I'm sorry.” She shook her head. “Thou are capable of speech?” “Yes.” “...I...see...” she said. “I have never met a blood drinker that could speak, and I have slain many.” At that, she considered the point silently, then grew grave. “Now you listen here.” “I'm listening,” said Dougal, neutrally. Her sword swung through the air. Tip came to rest against Dougal's throat. Dougal noted the blade. Felt it against his skin. He gulped, mildly concerned. “I am listening intently.” “I ought to kill you right now,” Luna said, her voice threatening to go full Royal Canterlot again. She forced herself to maintain her indoor voice. That product of many weeks of hard work. She was very proud of it. “Ought to smote you, and rid Equestria of your blight forever.” “Alright. Go ahead.” “What?” Luna cocked an eyebrow. Dougal sighed. “If you want to destroy me, then do so,” he said wearily. “...you...do not fear death?” “I have surrendered, knowing full well your opinion of the undead,” Dougal said, shaking his head. “If execution is what you crave, I'm not going to argue.” Luna's sword went slack, dipping slightly. Not too slack, of course. She tilted her head. “...why?” “...hmm...” Dougal shut his eyes, pondering. Then he sighed again. “...I'm just...tired. I don't feel like running anymore.” He held out his hands. “Gah!” Luna said, readying her sword. “What are you doing?” He smiled meekly. “Letting you arrest me.” He joined his wrists together, hands limp in front of him. “And what makes you think I'll arrest a vampire? And after your crimes against my subjects?” “I don't know...” Dougal said. “That's up to you.” “...this is a trick. You are plotting something.” “Maybe.” Dougal cocked his head. “Would you rather just kill me now?” Princess Luna stared into the vampire's eyes. They were...unusually dark. As light passed over them, it reflected off the whites, but dropped off completely in the black pits of his pupils. They were eerie eyes. Yet they appraised her casually, rather than with focused intent. Luna looked at his cheeks: coagulating blood from his victims running down his chin from the corners of his mouth. His was a...curious expression. Though buoyed not by continual breathing, the stench of blood wafted over to her from his lips. She shuddered. With renewed resolve, she pressed the sword harder against the vampire's neck. It threatened to draw blood...if it could. If there was enough blood in it to shed. It would be so easy. Her instincts cried out to destroy the beast, whatever it was. To cut off its head and piece its heart. To stake it for the sun so dear sister could destroy it at her leisure. Like Luna had done to a score of vampires before. ...but this was not like the vampires from one thousand years ago. Not quite like anything she'd ever seen. It had precedent, bits and pieces of it. But nothing of such a combination. In all her experience, Luna had yet to meet something as...singularly unique. “Soldier!” A guardspony trudged up. “Your Majesty?” “Manacles,” Luna said dryly, eyes locked on that creature. Not straying for an instant. Still wary of tricks. No matter what, vampires were always tricky. Dougal Dempsey simply smiled.